#raspberry!reader

[nightsteps]

MORE DAD¡RAFE PLEASE

alright let me give you a rundown on the family

so we all know raspberry she’s our kook queen. they got engaged when she was 24, married at 25, and had their first kid as 26.

their first baby was a girl and they named her allison marjorie cameron after raspberry’s mom. they honestly didn’t care about the gender at all they just wanted a kid. she looks exactly like raspberry.

their second baby was also a girl and rafe was a little let down by this because he wanted a son. they had her when allison was 4, so the girls are pretty close in age. she’s a little brat though she inherited rafes temper. they named her cassandra marie cameron.

they finally got their boy on baby number three and that’s their last one. they had him when alice was 7 and cassie was 3. they named him sebastian ward, after rafes dad obviously.

believe it or not sebastian is not rafes favorite it’s actually alice. she’s just very responsible and a very hard worker. cassie is his least favorite she reminds him too much of himself. don’t get me wrong though he loves all his kids. he’s grooming sebastian and allison to take over the family business, not cassie she wants to be model.

he taught sebastian how to play football and cassandra how to ride a bike. he works a lot and does occasionally miss tennis matches, dance recitals, and football games but he tries to be there as much as he can.

let me know if you want to hear about any of the other guys or any more dad!rafe

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, corruption kink, size kink, talks you through it, spanking.

The fever broke the next day.

You ran hot and cold all night and into the morning, sweating and shivering until the sun came up, pushed him away when your skin was slick with sweat, pulled him back when your fingers turned to ice. 

His poor baby girl. He did everything he could to ease you, settle you, keep you comfortable. You were barely conscious when he gave you water and more meds, hardly aware as he stripped you bare and wrapped you in your duvet, giving up on keeping your shirt dry and clean. 

Dawn came, and he called you out of work for the rest of the week, assured Mara you were fine, promised you’d text her when you were feeling up to it. You need a break, he explained, and she agreed, said she’d handle it. 

He’d take care of the rest. 

Your feet slap against the hard wood floor towards the living room where he’s settled on your couch, laptop open, last email responded to, headache blooming behind his eyes. John mentioned there was a lot of admin work when it came to being a captain, but he undersold it. By a lot. 

Doesn’t matter right now, he has more important things to focus on. “Hi sweet girl.” 

“I- you’re- did you… did you call me out of work?” Your color is healthy, along with your voice, and overall you look a lot better, back to normal, even with your shoulders high and tight, coiled with anxiety. 

“You’re not going back until Monday.” A string is pulled, releasing the tension of your uncertainty, confidence in his decisions, in him, growing a bit more day by day. “Come here baby.” You settle between some cushions and his side, but before you can lay your head on his arm, he shifts to face you. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better.” You’re still only in a shirt and panties, legs exposed from where you slump into the couch. “Thank you,” you whisper, giving him your eyes, a long look, dripping with trust, “for being here… for taking care of me.” He cups your cheek.

“I’m always going to take care of you, sweetheart. I’m always going to be here.” Building the belief you can depend on him or anything, go to him for everything, takes time. Just because he tells you, doesn’t mean it’s automatically instinctive, but the other side of the coin needs to be addressed. “We need to discuss a few things.” You watch him apprehensively.  

“Okay.” 

“You had multiple opportunities to tell you weren’t feeling well on Tuesday, but chose not to. Do you want to tell me why?” Your breath catches, stutters your diaphragm in quick succession. 

“I didn’t want to bother you. I thought… I figured I’d just go home and sleep it off and then I’d feel fine and there’d be no reason to even give it a second thought, I didn't... I wasn't sure if you were busy at work and I didn’t want to be an inconvenience, I-” His hand curves around your skull, fingers at your nape, thumb pressed to your lips, stopping the stream of worry before it builds into a rollercoaster.

“You’re not an inconvenience, you’re mine. You’re mine to take care of, and you don’t make the decisions about what’s bothersome to me. There isn’t a single thing about you that could ever bother me. Do you understand?” You nod, lips warm beneath the pad of his thumb. “Words, baby girl.” 

“Yes daddy, I understand.” 

“I know this is a big transition and a lot to learn, you’re going to make mistakes, and so will I. I’ve already made one by not introducing your rules sooner, and we’re going to fix that now.” A rod of steel supports his words, and you straighten. His little solider at attention.

“Rules…” you trail off, a little perplexed, a little curious, too fucking cute. 

“Rules. You’re my priority, and it’s important you’re safe, happy, and healthy. The rules are easy to follow, but if they’re broken, there will be consequences. Are you ready to hear them?” You nod nervously, and he takes your hand, squeezes it. “You’ll always listen to daddy. You’ll be in bed, at bedtime, unless you’re told otherwise. You’ll eat three meals a day, which includes an actual breakfast and instead of your usual half gallon of coffee, you'll drink water instead.” 

“B-but-” He raises an eyebrow, and you press your lips together. “Sorry daddy.” 

“That’s okay, but you’re just listening now, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

“Good girl. You can have two cups, but no more. When you’re at work, you’ll check in after each meal, even if you don’t get a response. I don't always have my phone, but the rules still apply. If I’m away,” it's acid in his throat, squeezing his windpipe, trying to choke him, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it, “you’ll still send your messages. You will always consider your safety before doing anything, like walking ten blocks home with a fever.” Your face twists up with guilt. “You’ll tell me whenever you're scared, or anxious, or overwhelmed, whether it’s face to face, or through a text or phone call." He gives you a second, waits and watches, analyzes all the flickers and flutters in your expression. The moment it hits, your relief, your realization, a weight lifts from his shoulders. "That’s all we have for now, sweet girl. We're starting pretty basic and will adjust as things change. I’ll write them down so it’s easier to keep track of, but these are your rules, and I’m very serious about them, because I’m very serious about you.” He pulls you into his arms, settles you against his chest and rubs your back. Now for the hard part. "Okay?"

"Okay."

"And if you had known them, would you have walked home on Tuesday?"

"No, I wouldn't have."

“It’s okay baby,” he skims his nose across the top of your head, dots a kiss at your hairline. “You didn’t know, but we’re going to use it as a learning opportunity.” 

“We are?” He tightens his hold. 

“I’m going to give you a punishment, so you have an idea what to expect for the future. Stand up.” You untangle yourself from his arms, rising in front of him, trembling. You're standing on the edge of a cliff, the roof of a building, and the only thing below is him, waiting to catch you. It's a test of trust, of progress, one he believes you won't fail. “It’s okay to be nervous. New things can be scary and there will a lot of them. D'you trust me to take care of you?” 

“Yes daddy.” It eases an ache in his heart, the one that hates seeing you unsettled, and he shifts his legs into a ninety degree angle, patting his thigh. “What… what are we doing?” 

“Daddy’s going to spank you.” Your eyes go wider than saucers. 

“Y-you’re going to spank me?” You squeak, taking a half step away towards the coffee table as he pulls your wrists together and then holds them with one hand, pushing you down over his knees. 

“You’re only getting five spanks, and if you’re very good, you’ll get a reward.” 

“I d-don’t know, can’t I um…” Your shirt comes up over your bottom, but he leaves your underwear in place. “I c-can do something else. Maybe… make my bed? Or do the dishes?” He laughs, enjoying the way you shiver as he rubs his palm over your cheeks, warming the flesh. 

“You’re getting a spanking, little girl. I want you to count after each one, and when we get to five, we’ll stop. Ready?” Five. It's nothing, but not to you. It's alien, it's scary, it's an unknown world you're brand new to.

This place was made for you, this home he built in his heart, this world he crafted with his bare hands, all of it, is for you. Only for you, forever.

But it's still new.

He gives you some time, your needed space, and when your lungs expand with a deep breath, he draws back- 

And swings. 

The sound of his palm making contact with your flesh is music, your little shocked howl combined with the ripple of your cheek, all of it coming together in perfect harmony-

but something is missing. "Are you going to count, or do I need to start over?"

"O-one," you warble, sucking in a big breath.

"Good girl." The second is the same and you clench, even though these are the softest slaps he’s ever dealt. “Relax your bottom baby girl, that’s it.” You groan out your third with your feet kicking, pant your fourth, and on the fifth, you shiver and shriek. 

But you don’t cry. You don’t break.

He didn’t think you would. You have a soft strength to you, one that comes from navigating a world that doesn't understand you.

He kisses your trembling lower lip as he hauls you up, evaluates your expression, checking for true fear, panic, satisfied when he doesn’t find it. 

“My brave girl, I'm so proud of you.” he murmurs, urging you onto your back beside him on the couch, thighs slung over his. You grunt at the contact, raw ass meeting the cushion, but don’t complain. “You took that so well.” 

“I d-did?” 

“You did.” He’s good at this now, giving enough but not too much, honoring your need for slower steps. They’re the only way the mission will result in success. He rubs your feet, presses his thumbs into an arch as you whimper. You’re still slightly tense so he keeps going until you turn boneless, limp, taking his time, indulging in the quiet passing of time, a long moment spent with you. “Feel good?” 

“Mmm, yeah…” 

“Do you remember when I said you’d get a reward?” He keeps going, up your calves to your knees, working slow patterns around to the backside of your thighs before revisiting your feet, up and down, again and again until your relaxation starts to become something else, something that has you squirming. 

“Y-yeah,” your exhale is shaky. You’re so responsive, already on edge just by some simple pressure, a light massage, and there’s a wet spot darkening your light blue panties. 

“Are you a little sensitive?” He skates up toward your hip and across, dragging his fingertips under your shirt across your belly. You giggle. “Ticklish?” 

“Um, y-yes.” He keeps going, squeezing, stroking your skin, dipping below the hem of your underwear carefully, testing your resistance. When there’s none, he goes further, and you buck into his touch, inadvertently sliding his fingers down to your pussy. “Oh.” Slick is seeping out between your folds, sticking to your underwear. You’re not just wet, you’re soaked, to the point where if he spanked your little cunt it’d splash. 

“Oh baby, you’ve made a mess,” he grazes your seam and you grab his wrist, holding on tight, mouth moving with no sound coming out. He wants to see, wants to inspect, wants to memorize every inch of you, but he’s not sure if you’re ready, and you’ve never said it outright, but he knows you’re self conscious. 

Still- 

He splays his hand across your stomach. “Daddy wants to see your pussy sweet girl, can I look?” You shift nervously, but stare up into his eyes with so much trust it nearly kills him, finally nodding with your fingers gripping the couch cushions. “Words, sweetheart.” 

“Yes daddy.” 

“Such a good girl.” He rolls your underwear down to mid-thigh, mouth watering when dewy drops of slick web from the your lips to the cotton, curly hair soaking wet. Christ. Like this, he can’t spread you open, but just the smell of you alone has him leaking in his pants. “You’re so pretty baby, what a perfect, precious pussy.” He could tell you all the things you have to look forward to right now, break your brain a bit if he wanted. How he’s going to inspect you, train you, shave you, stretch you out, fill you up, plug you up, teach you about toys and edging and forced orgasms. Show you how perfect, how beautiful you are every single day, make sure you know it, all the way to your soul. 

He can’t do any of that now, but he needs to go farther, a fiend for a fix. You’re already half laid over his lap, so it’s easy to grab your calves. “I’m going to fold your legs up a bit. Be still for me, there we go,” he bends you at the waist, flexing your knees outward to expose you, your hole, your bottom, cheeks glossy all the way to the couch. “Doin’ so well. Do you touch yourself?” 

“Sometimes b-but I can’t always… finish.” Poor baby. He’s sure you get caught up in your head over it, trip yourself into losing the edge. 

“That’s okay, daddy’s going to make sure you have plenty of orgasms from now on. Can you clench for me? Show daddy what your little hole looks like when it squeezes?” You choke on a breath but your pussy pulses. You’re tight enough he could hurt you, and even with all the prep, he knows the first time won’t be easy. “Has anyone ever been inside you?” 

“Fingers. I’ve h-had two boyfriends, and they’ve… fingered me. And gone down but I didn’t really like it.” You whisper, and the possessive, obsessed monster in his heart comes alive. Fuck. You lock up. “Is that… is that bad?” 

“No, baby, no.” He let the silence linger for too long and it ate at you, twisted your thoughts until they turned sour. His mistake. “I’m just thinking about how my cock is going to be the first one you ever take, and that makes daddy really happy.” First… and last. You suck in a sharp breath.

“Oh.” If he doesn’t put a pin in this immediately, he’s going to end up fucking you right here on the couch, far before you’re ready for him. 

“You’ve been so good for me, are you ready for your reward?” You nod enthusiastically. So fucking cute. “That sounds good, doesn’t it?” He drags your panties back up to your hips and then sits you up as you blink, confused. 

“What-” 

“It’s okay, c’mere.” He leads you over his thigh, planting your knees on either side, encouraging you down until you’re sitting directly on his leg, vibrating. His little leaf in the wind. 

“I d-don’t know… what to do.” He gently places his hands on your hips. 

“I know, but you don’t have to worry, I'm going to teach you. I’m going to take away all that stuff in your head that makes it hard for you to orgasm sometimes.” You jerk, eyes rivaling a full moon, lips parted and panting already. “You’re wet, which means,” he slides you forward and you moan, “your little clit is swollen, your pussy wants to come.” You twitch in his hold, seeking friction. “When you touch yourself at home, do you feel how hard it is?” You nod, sinking down, looking for the relief. “That’s your clit poking its head out from its hood, looking for something to touch it, rub it, but you don’t always have to use your hands.” He leads you into a rhythm, grazing your neck with his teeth at the same time. “All you need to do is ride.” You follow his guidance, gliding against his jeans, wide eyes turning half lidded, picking up speed as sparks fly between your legs. You’re a drug, you’re his drug, a precious, rare, one in a million thing he’d burn the earth for. “Good girl, look at you, rubbing your pussy all over daddy’s thigh. Does it feel good?” 

“Yes- ah,” you whimper, and he shakes his head. 

“Yes who, baby.” 

“Yes d-daddy, it feels so good, fu-” you bump the wide crown of his cock, hard and leaking down his pant leg, and screech to a stop. “I-is that…” He can’t resist taking your hand and spreading your palm over the length, soaking up your shocked expression. 

“Yeah sweet girl. That’s daddy’s cock.” You’re still his little fawn, exploring on trembling legs, staring at him with your mouth hanging open, and he chuckles as he sticks his thumb in it. “Don’t worry. We’ll build up to it.” He pulls out of your mouth and slips his hand under your shirt, pinching your nipple. You hiss. 

“Ow-” Leaning back with an arm behind his head, leg shoving upward, throwing you off balance just enough you have to hold onto his shoulders. 

“Want me to show you what it’ll be like when I bounce you on my cock?” 

“Um, uh... I’ll... I'll fall?” your brow furrows as you try to find a rhythm again.

“I’d never let you fall baby, I promise.” It’s a solemn vow. Wouldn’t let you fall here, or anywhere, ever, something you’ll learn in time. 

He stabilizes you, hands back on your hips, and then picks up a steady pace, your fingernails digging into his forearms, clinging to him for dear life. 

Just the way he likes it. 

It doesn’t take long for your eyes to glaze over, the effort of frantically trying to keep up with being bounced on his leg slowly turning into clumsy, desperate movements, shoving yourself down against him again and again, trying to find that sweet spot, the release you need. 

The only correction you need is when your lashes flutter. “Keep your eyes open when you come for me. Always on me.” You nod, looking up at the last second as you go rigid, thighs trying to snap shut around his, and he keeps you in place as chase your orgasm. “There it is, what a good girl, coming on daddy,” your breath hitches, half moan, half twisted scream and he pets you soothingly, “That's it, ride it baby, ride it out for me.” You do until you’re in tatters, shuddering in his hold, wet cheeks pressed to his neck as he rocks you. “My perfect, sweet girl.” He lays you down, kisses the inside of your wrist when you refuse to let go. Tears are still flowing down your temples and into your hair, but he shoves away the side of him that wants to spread you wide and fuck you until there’s more. 

You need something else now. He suspects this is the first time you've experienced something like this, an emotional release after an orgasm, emotions, tension, all of those things in your head, cut free and running rampant, spilling out of you to him, and it's his job to take them, carry them, life them from your shoulders.

He never gave aftercare a second thought when he was younger. Fuck and leave, that’s all it ever was until he realized how fulfilling it was to take something apart and put it back together, to give someone everything they need, control every aspect to ensure they were safe and happy and warm, comfortable all the way to their bones. He’s glad he discovered it before, all the trial and error long over, a methodical approach and understanding left in its place, just so he can give it all to you. 

There’s a wet spot on his jeans from where you soaked all the way through, and he grabs a blanket over the back of the couch, tucking it in around your sides. When he tries to stand, you track him without breaking focus, still clinging to his shirt. "Shhh, easy. You're alright." he curls around you, blocks out the light, holds you tight to him and murmurs in your ear gently. "My sweet little berry girl, daddy's got you. I'm here."

You settle after a while, your cheeks drying, muscles relaxing, and he's finally able pull away. "I’m going to get you some water, and then when you’re ready, we’ll go get you in a bath and into some clean clothes.” He kisses your temple, breathing in the sex and sweat, tasting your tears. “Stay still, I'll be right back.” You nod sleepily. He’ll need to feed you too, and get some cream on your ass, but it’s one step at a time right now. 

And he’s going to enjoy every single second of it. 

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[yeosin-n]

Omg ur so wonderful!!! I was wondering if we could give horror some chocolate? (And if he's up for it maybe even a hug... Or a kiss) please? I love ur stuff btw!!!!

I ALMOST FORGOT HOW HOT HORROR IS he’s so fun to draw

[raspberryandechinacea]

*taps mic* the category i-oh wait, not that.

Soooo, i was eating chicken wings in a restaurant and i got a silly idea, hope you like it.

Ghost enjoyed this place. Good cheap food, not too busy, low music, plenty of tvs with various sport matches and most important, people minding their own business. A good place to just chill and take a break.

And now he has found another reason to stay when he spots you, cute thing, just eating your chicken wings polished, leaving only clean bones on the plate, without a care in the world. It was the hottest thing he has ever seen.

Hell, he might even run to you and propose.

Well, thank @theorist-fox for enabling me and thanks chicken wings my beloved for the inspiration.

[djljpanda]

Same anon from https://www.tumblr.com/djljpanda/729765849772228608/hi-just-discovered-your-tumblr-and-thought-id-say

May I be snow anon plz? Also...can't help but imagine one funny senario with all cookies, you can involve beasts or not if you want:

Imagine if y/n was naive and innocent and can get easily distracted....like two cookies could be duking it out for their attention only to discover y/n got distracted and was now watching a butterfly on a flower...like if the cookies took their eyes off y/n for too long or something, y/n wanders off lmao! Also can imagine y/n being confused why cookies are fighting eachother, not realizing it's for their attention.

Bonus if you want...if you want a playful naive fighter y/n senario too: imagine if y/n sees two cookies fighting, thinks they are sparring or play fighting...and just runs up and joins in!

Y/n, seeing two cookies duking it out for y/n's attention but y/n doesn't understand that: oooh that looks fun!

Cookie 1: their eyes should be on me!

Cookie 2: no, they should be on-huh?

The two cookies, turning to see y/n running straight at them with fire in their eyes: WAIT Y/N NOOOO!

*both end up punched in the face by y/n who thought they were sparring or having some sort of fun fight and wanting to join in!*

Y/n: did I win? 😃

Fallen Hero’s/Beast x Reader

I remember you snow anon.

This all happens before their fall from grace.

Now Reader cookie has been traveling with the hero’s for quite awhile now as she was encouraged by the five to join them. But along the way all of them had developed feelings for the cookie.

Innocent Reader, always sees these cookies as friends and would be confused on why they scrabbled allot with each other, just to hold your hand? Now you hate to say that the butterfly flying around was the reason you got lost. But not for long as you saw Eternal sugar cookie come flying down, “oh I was so worried about you how could you get lost like that”. Eternal sugar cookie was always the first to find you and he sit did upset the others.

But at times while you were out doing something’s the rest might start fighting. Let’s say you were leaving to go collect some wood for the town you and the hero’s were helping with. Burning spice cookie, shadow milk cookie, and silent salt cookie had joined you while eternal sugar cookie and mystic flour cookie stayed behind in case if any other cookies may need their help.

But as time went by the two cookies had started to argue as both thought that they will treat you better which led to them about to physically start fight till they heard you and the others returned. When you questioned the two cookies they just pushed off the question while they helped you with the wood you collected.

Fighter reader, here you went with eternal sugar cookie, burning spice cookie, and mystic flour cookie to help some cookies with food. As you four left silent salt cookie and shadow milk cookie decided to spat together but as it continued they truly did started to fight as the topic of you came up. But both were token off guard as they were both knocked to the ground as all confusion went away they look up to see you smiling with the other cookies looking along. “You should have told you two were going to spar I would have stayed back”, you smiled helping the two up as you all got ready to go and help other cookies civilizations.

Other cookies that can fit your scenario-

Affogato cookie and Caramel Arrow cookie

Raspberry mousse cookie and Raspberry cookie

Lilac cookie and Scorpion cookie

Lotus dragon cookie and Longan dragon cookie

Red velvet cookie and Dark choco cookie

Linzer cookie and Crème brlee cookie

[becca-e-barnes]

I’m literally drooling over the thought of sensitive Bucky whimpering and whining while fucking your tits and thighs he’s so pathetic and needy all he wants is to make you feel good and to fill you with his cum even if it overstimulates him

Okay, tit fucking is great and all but thigh fucking is SO underrated in my humble opinion. Could just be the fact I've got a small chest though lmao

It's so fun when you're already really into it and the insides of your thighs are all slick. I feel like Bucky would lose it, getting to see your face and look in your eyes and enjoy your body.

It's a nice one to do while laid on your side, facing each other. Although the angle isn't quite right for him to slip inside you, it's fun to explore the other ways your bodies can steal pleasure from one another.

"This isn't going to work, sweetheart." You can't help but laugh, having already tried everything you can think of to make the height difference work. There's no way to keep this romantic and intimate in that position because there's just no chance of aligning your bodies properly to allow him to press inside you.

"Maybe not. But it feels nice anyway." His eyes flutter shut, gliding his dick over the smooth, soft, warm insides of your thighs, encouraged by how slick and easy your arousal makes the movement.

You adjust yourself to bring your other thigh on top of his length, closing him in on both sides.

You're wet enough that friction doesn't impede his movement too much and there's something oddly romantic about it. Maybe it's his hand smoothing the back of your head or his other hand up your back, pulling your body closer to his.

It's so intimate, watching his face as he whines your name, rutting senselessly against your thighs. The little flush to his cheeks is beautiful and you can't resist kissing the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The thick duvet on top of you both, coupled with your combined body heat means the room is far hotter than you'd planned.

You take a second to reach between your bodies, spreading your wet folds and readjusting his length, letting him drag his cock against your neglected clit with each stroke and oh, that's pretty mind-blowing.

"O-oh my God." He whines, desperately fucking himself against your wet cunt, rather than into it. It's a different kind of pleasure to being inside you and while they're not comparable sensations, it doesn't stop this from feeling fantastic.

"Fuck, that's good." You groan, rolling your hips to meet his. Your fingers dip between you once more, gathering some of your slick arousal, using it to glide your fingertips over the underside of his shaft and over his balls.

"Holy shit, that's - fuck." Bucky's hardly got a coherent thought left in his head. He's closed in on both sides by your wet, soft thighs and now your fingers are giving him a different sensation underneath while pressing him against your soaked sex.

"I know, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" Your fingertips trail lightly back and forth over the underside of his shaft, focusing on the inch or so beneath the tip.

"I can't... I need to cum." He groans, thrusting frantically, clinging to your body to keep you close. Within a few seconds, you feel his dick pulse under your fingertips, his cum coating the inside of your thighs in hot, thick, messy spurts.

He doesn't waste a second, kissing your forehead before kissing your neck and whispering "Good girl. Now let me watch you get yourself off with my cum on your fingertips."

[mumblingsage]

Product Recommendation: Surviving the Respiratory Crud Edition

Various unpleasant viruses and stuff are going around, and I think I got the mild version - it's not COVID and in my case didn't even include a fever, just a ton of congestion and a nagging cough. It's been a week and I'm on the recovery upswing but still not there yet. The good news is I can forget, for hours at a time, that I'm ill, thanks to taking these products on the scheduled doses. And Robitussin wasn't lying when they said their raspberry is 'better tasting': it still tastes like cold medicine, but is strikingly palatable and minimally cloying (identical taste in both this and the longer-lasting nighttime formula). I can also attest it got me through my bought of COVID last year.

The Throat Coat sweet ginger fennel, meanwhile, is like candy. Naturally mentholated candy, which might feel a bit weird but in a very good way when it's simultaneous numbing your throat and cold-steaming open your sinuses (that's how it feels to me, anyway). Throat Coat does a tea that I'm enjoying, too, which doesn't taste like medicine at all but just a soothing, not-too-sweet but not-at-all-bitter herbal tea.

Anyway, this is a recommendation if you have the time and means to stock up before the crud gets you, and because it was a nice surprise to find cold medicine that's not only quickly effective but also tastes fine.

[brittle-doughie]

Sooo, knowing this from the recent CROB storyline (I didn't play CROB anymore because I quitted) but I would think that it might be possible for a polyship of Raspberry Mousse, Rose and Y/N Cookie to happen or would there be a slight rivarly between the two?

It would be interesting if it was a one sided rivalry between Mousse and Y/N, all because Y/N was friendly around Rose Cookie, who fancied them.

“You... Dance with me, now.”

“Shall we dance?”

“I must dance only with you at this party.”

While Raspberry Mousse sees you as a rival for getting Rose Cookie’s attention, you always saw it as a sort of friendly competition, unable to see that Mousse wanted to win against you for Rose Cookie’s attention, leading to hesitation on his part as he accused you of using cursed magic on him. Why was he feeling weird when he duels you in the competition?!

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ Oh Lady, My Lady — Raspberry Cookie x GN Reader ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

On the grounds of the Hollyberry Kingdom and in the gardens of Chateau Raspberry, the fragrant flowers surrounded by greenery shone brilliantly in the sun. Elegantly glazed hot pink hair was illuminated by the rays, a confident smirk in your vision as a candy cane striped blade crossed with your own. You grunted, trying to stand your ground against the heir to House Raspberry, clutching the hilt of your blade tightly.

Raspberry Cookie gave a well placed push. You dug your feet into cobblestone, briefly glancing behind you. The second you did, you felt your legs being sweeped, quickly sending you to the ground. You couldn't help but frown when hearing loud laughter from above. "That feels like a cheap shot" you mumbled to the heiress. "You know not to look behind you by now, I've taught you much better than that" Raspberry Cookie responded.

You looked up with a playful glare, but your dough heated up on the cheeks when seeing the Cookie above you. She was illuminated by golden hues, painted in a rose gold ring around her form. She was smiling confidently, looking down at you with eyes upturned in enjoyment. She chuckled good naturedly, extending a hand to you "Come on, let's get you cleaned up". You felt your thought process stutter, reaching your hand out and letting her help you stand.

She dusted off your outfit for you, fixing up the collar of your shirt. She wiped a bit of dirt off of your face as well. She began leading you to the Chateau, bringing you into the wide doors all dipped in deep pink. It was polished and clean within, exactly what you'd come to expect from House Raspberry. "Do you think a bath will help?" Raspberry Cookie asked you "You worked up a sweat out there". "That sounds nice" you grinned back.

Raspberry confidently led you past whoever was around, and you had to pick up the pace a little to keep up. She stopped when getting to the stairs, and you felt a twinge in your leg. You hissed a little in pain, rubbing the area. She turned around, frowning in concern. "Are you alright?" She asked, tilting her head to look "Did I hurt you?". "I think I'm okay" you mumbled, but Raspberry Cookie shook her head "No no, I'm sure this was a result of our last round. You hit the ground rather hard"

Before you could brush it off, you felt yourself being swept off of your feet. Raspberry had scooped you into her arms, holding you in a bridal-style carry against her chest. You felt yourself blush even more, feeling your cheek squished against the white puffy cravat she wore. You glanced up, meeting her kind burgundy eyes. "There we go, all set!" She said, starting up the winding stairs. "B-But my lady, I'm sure I-" you began, Raspberry cutting you off "I'm the one who did this, it's only fair that I make up for it!"

You let it go with a little nod, nervously leaning into the strong arms that were holding you up. Within moments you were in Raspberry's chambers, and she was gently setting you on the plush comfort of the mattress. She leaned down, analyzing your leg with a gentle grip. After a little prodding and rubbing, she leaned back "It's not broken, but you should stay off it for a while" she explained. She then went to the side of the bed, fixing a drink from a clean basin "I'll be your guard until then!". You chuckled at her resilience, accepting the cup and sipping from it "thank you, my lady"

"No problem at all, my knight" Raspberry replied, giving a deep bow. She began making her way to the bathroom, flitting in and out to set up towels, a new set of clothes, and turning on the bathtub faucet. You felt relaxed at the brought on pampering, smiling as the fencer came back into the room. "Your bath is ready, my knight" she said, stepping back up to try and lift you once more. You sat yourself up, sliding into her arms in a big embrace. You then stood straighter, pressing your foreheads together "Thank you, Raspberry" you said gently "Today was fun"

"I'm glad" Raspberry responded, gently pecking your cheek "We can resume when you're healed. For now, I order you to rest". "Of course, of course" you nodded, leaning back. Once she picked you back up again, you nestled to her more easily. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad, it was nice to have some help. And if it meant spending time with your lady, then that was all the better.

[nightsteps]

What kind of father do you think Rafe would be, like, I need that in detail

so when they’re younger he’s significantly less involved. raspberry does most of the toddler stuff like potty training, ect. once their kids he starts doing more, like teaching them to ride their bikes and play football.

they’re those families that always look perfect, kind of like bree from desperate housewives. always dressed up, either for photos for rafes new construction project, dinner for their sons football game, or their daughters dance recital.

he’s more work focused then parent focused though, so if he needs to skip a football game to close a big deal he will. in his mind it’s worth it because the deal means more for his family in the long run.

he’s also one of those dads who thinks his kids can do no wrong, like he refuses to believe his kids are ever bad. if his kid failed a test, the teacher isn’t good at their job. if his kid got caught sneaking out, they just forgot to ask.

there’s no disrespect in his house, especially towards his wife. she does too much for people to disrespect her. he also doesn’t tolerate his kids fighting, which is hard since the girls bicker everyday.

he’s kinda like those 1950’s working husbands who want dinner on the table when they’re home, but with a little modern twist.

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ daddy kink, sickfic, SFW, requested.

Mara is surprised to see him. "Hey Captain Riley."

He nods. “She in the back?” The knit between her eyebrows is quizzical, and she shakes her head.

“What? No… she went home. Hours ago. Said she didn’t feel well.” He doesn’t bother to school his expression into neutrality, and she turns sheepish, like somehow she’s the one in trouble now. “I told her to call you. She was nearly falling asleep back there. Almost face planted in the batter of these cookies.” She points to an artfully arranged tower of chocolate chip cookies, their little placard labeling them as ‘brown butter’. What that means, he’s not sure. 

“How long ago did she leave?” He had no idea you were sick. Worse, you didn’t say anything. You lied by omission, sending your usual morning text messages, your before lunch check in with zero mention of feeling unwell. 

He’s not angry with you, because he understands you. This is uneven footing, new territory, a lot to learn for his little fawn. You’re finding your way in this new life, and he has plenty of time.

 A learning experience, that’s all this is. 

“Like… an hour ago? Maybe two?” A frown tugs his lips towards his chin. 

“Her car is still in the lot.” 

“Oh yeah��� she walked.” Walked? You walked? 

Your ass is going to be sore for a week. 

There’s a queue forming behind him, so he steps back, gives her a parting glance before turning to leave. “Thanks Mara.” 

“Tell her I hope she feels better!” 

You live on the fourth floor. The elevator in your building is busted, along with the front door’s lock, and there are no cameras, no security, nothing stopping anyone from walking inside. 

Just his baby in a fourth floor apartment with a measly deadbolt and chain. 

You’ll be so much happier at home with him.

It takes three tries for you to come to the door, and when you find him on the other side, your expression splits in two, one side saturated with relief, the other, buzzing with nerves, but somehow still half asleep. 

“H-hi.” You croak, sweating and shivering, standing there in only a t-shirt. 

Miserable. You look miserable. 

“Sweet girl,” he breathes, stepping inside, immediately placing the back of his hand to your forehead, trailing down your chin to find your pulse fluttering beneath your jaw. It’s elevated, and you’re burning up, tears gathering on your waterline, threatening to fall.

"D-daddy," you hiccup, trembling, reaching for him just as he pulls you into his chest with a palm against your neck, rubbing circles at your nape as he takes a quick look around. He’s never been inside your apartment before, though he’s been tempted multiple times, made the trip to your building often, ensuring you’re home safe, watching the comings and goings of others who live here, looking for any red flags or reasons for immediate concern. He’s inspected empty units, tested the standard locks, checked for mold and mildew. It’s adequate, but your own flat is too cramped, and he knows you feel boxed in. 

"I'm here baby, I'm here. Let me look at you." He tips your chin up and moves into your line of sight, glassy, glazed eyes tracking him the whole way. "Have you seen a doctor?”

“No,” you sniffle, immediately planting your face back into his sternum, “’s just a cold.” 

“You don’t get a fever with a cold sweetheart. Have you taken anything?” He doesn't panic. It's not in his programming, not a part of his reality but seeing you like this, in distress, suffering, is starting to rewire long dormant standards.

“Don’t have a fever.” There’s a short hallway across the living room, two doors on either end, one he assumes is your bedroom, and he starts moving that way, keeping you tucked against him. “I took some naproxen.” You’re floating along with his direction without a single peep, barely recognizing where you are when he sits you down on the edge of your bed. 

First things first. He has to get you out of these clothes and into something dry. “This has to come off baby girl, it’s wet.” 

“Wet?” You’re barely holding yourself up, and he probably only has a few minutes before you’re out. 

“Your body is trying to regulate it's temperature, so you've been sweating.” He finds pajamas in the top drawer of your dresser, lips rolling into a smile as he unfurls the t-shirt. “Gremlins?” You throw him a squinty glare. 

“It’s a good movie.” He brushes his lips across your forehead, tasting the slick of salt before pulling away and tapping your shoulders. 

“Arms up.” You oblige without question, the trust that sometimes gets lost in this newfound dance shining through brilliantly. His hands brush against your ribs, your belly as he slides them beneath the hem of your shirt and tries not to wince at the scorching temperature of your skin. “Good girl. Don’t want you going back to sleep all sweaty do we?” He quickly pats the sheets, relieved to find them dry. 

“No daddy.” Such a sweet girl. You roll instinctively, burrowing in the mound of things in your bed, knees curling up towards your belly. There are at least three different colored fuzzy blankets in your bed, six pillows, and a stuffed cat of some kind, something about it vaguely familiar but difficult to place. A crumpled notebook with loopy handwriting and small drawings adorning the pages is wedged beneath your hip, and there’s a kindle sitting on the other side along with an empty water bottle. The frame itself has a shelf at the head of the bed, and it’s lined with stuff… a small lamp, a ceramic cupcake, a collection of seashells, chapstick, lotion, an empty mug, a glowing mushroom, along with two pairs of glasses and a few candles. It’s clear this is your space, where you’re safe and comfortable, a nest of your own making, a place just for you, and it’s fitting, all of it. Each little piece is perfect just like you. 

He lets you sleep while he cleans and refills your water bottle, finds the naproxen and your towels, pulling a washcloth out so he can run it under cold water for your head. You definitely have a fever, but if you can break it on your own there’s no reason to take you to a doctor. Time will tell, but if it gets worse, you’ll have to go immediately. 

Tally marks for today’s transgressions sit quietly on a slate in the back of his mind for far later, satisfying realization settling in against his soul. You’ve earned a spanking, and stricter rules. 

It’s a fine line. He doesn’t punish for the sake of punishing, there’s nothing good in it for him, or you, but he will punish you for things like this, things that put you in harms way, things like not telling him you’re sick and in need of help. Things like fucking walking ten blocks home. He’ll punish you for stepping outside a boundary, or failing to follow a rule, all of it a double edged sword, one he wields delicately, because often, punishments come with their own rewards, whether they be emotional or physical.

You rouse a bit when he comes back, making little sounds as he props you up to take more medicine, dabs the cold washcloth around your face, cooling you down and wiping some of the stale sweat away. He smooths a palm over your forehead. “We’re going to have a long talk about rules when you’re feeling better.” 

“Mmkay.” You press your nose into his neck. “Are you going to lay with me?” He kisses your temple. 

“In a little bit, I have some work to take care of. Close your eyes for now.” You nuzzle down into the mattress against his thigh and he can’t resist placing his hand atop your head, holding you there, your cheek bleeding heat through his pants, warm, wet breath building a damp spot. 

“But you’ll be here?” You mumble it, and like you’re afraid the answer will be no, you wrap an arm around the width of his thigh. He chuckles. 

“I’ll be right here.” 

[hellshire-harlot]

Everytime a COD x Reader Author writes the Reader as explicitly neurodivergent an angel gets its wings

[imagination-phantom]

Day 25! That Gomez and Morticia love~

“ When we are together, darling every night is Halloween~” then he blows a raspberry on your neck because Stan can’t take anything seriously for more than point five seconds xD

@nyx-universe thank you so much for the ask! I had so much fun with this!

I’m new to making gifs/animations be nice! lol

[ticklishraspberries]

Tell Him (George O'Malley x Reader)

Summary: You’re dating George O’Malley. You tell him about a certain liking of yours, and although he’s initially confused, he tries to understand. (This is incredibly self-indulgent and the reader is essentially just me. If anyone actually reads this, it’ll be a miracle, lmfao. Mentions of sex and tickling as a kink, but overall this fic is more fluff than smut.)

“I can’t.”

George sighed, but he had an amused expression on his face. “Whatever you’re gonna tell me, I won’t freak out. You know that, right?”

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s embarrassing. It’s not bad, but it's embarrassing.”

He took your chin, making you meet his eye. “Well, I’m not gonna pressure you. Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Go save some lives, Dr. O’Malley.”

He kissed you quickly before heading out, and you sighed, resting your head in your hands. It was silly, really, and you were getting him worked up over nothing. If only your embarrassment, your shame didn’t run so deep, if only you had the guts to spit out a simple confession.

And it was over something so stupid.

Cuddling in bed with George last night had been nice. He was warm, and groggy after a day of interning at the hospital, but present enough to rub your back sweetly, muttering sweet words. And then his fingers had strayed near your side, soft and it had startled you and made you twitch.

“You alright?” he asked.

You had nodded. “All good.”

And then, he’d done it again. By accident, still. And you had twitched again, a puff of air resembling a soft laugh leaving your nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I tickling you?” he’d asked.

You chuckled nervously. “A little.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s fine.”

And that had been it. What you hadn’t said was that it was completely fine if he tickled you, and that it would be fine to continue, because you enjoyed it.

You just couldn’t spit that out. And George deserved to know, because he would clearly do anything in his power to make you happy, and yet, you were afraid that something as simple as a little tickling would be the thing to scare him off.

His shift was long. Long enough for you to think it over. To plan out everything you would want to say, to prepare for a worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t be so bad. George was sweet. He was an angel, honestly, and the chances of him reacting poorly were slim to none. But that fear still lingered. The fear of rejection, ridicule, or just plain old misunderstanding.

But George would understand. He had to.

So after a long, long shift, George was back in your bed. Warm, sleepy, and hopefully ready to listen to your words.

“You ready to tell me what you wanted to say this morning?” he asked.

“Yes. No. Maybe?” you replied. “It’s…I really need to stress to you that it’s not a big deal. It really isn’t, but I’m embarrassed and this is really hard for me to talk about.”

He pulled you close. “I’m here to listen. What’s going on?”

“So, last night…You were rubbing my back, and you…Well, you…”

“Is this about me tickling you?” he interrupted. “Because it was an accident, and I won’t do it—”

“No, no, that’s…I wanna tell you that it’s okay. That I…I liked it. I mean, I would like it if you did it…Intentionally, next time.”

George blinked at you, mouth opening and closing. “I’m sorry…You liked it?”

There it was. The twinge of judgement in his voice. It made you deflate, cheeks turning red.

He sensed the shift in your attitude and immediately shook his head. “No, no, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just…Surprised, that’s all! Because, well, my brothers used to tickle me all the time and I always hated it. I mean, they were rough, and it hurt, and they used to make me cry…So, I mean, the idea of someone liking it is just sort of weird to me. Not weird in a bad way, God, that came out wrong…Weird as in uncommon—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” you said. “I’m sorry your brothers did that to you. But, it’s just…I’ve always liked it, and I can’t help it, it’s just wired into my brain for some reason, and it’s embarrassing and I’ve had partners react badly to it in the past, so if you’re weirded out, it’s fine, I just…I wanted to tell you because it makes me happy, and you make me happy.”

George smiled. “Okay. If you like it, that’s fine. I can…I can do it, more, if that makes you happy. Is it…Is it like, a sex thing or a cuddly thing?”

You gave another nervous laugh. “Both? It’s not inherently sexual, but it can be hot. We can talk about the sex part later, though. This is all too embarrassing for me.”

George laughed, too. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s fine,” he said, kissing your temple. “We can talk about it another time.”

You assumed that was the end of the conversation, but his hands found your sides and squeezed, making you squeal.

“So, you like this?” he asked. “Or do you like it better…here?” His hands moved upwards towards your ribs, his fingers prodding into the spaces between your bones with his surgical precision. It only made you giggle harder, feet kicking.

“You’re giggling too hard to answer me, baby,” he cooed.

“Shut up,” you whined. “You’re being mean!”

“How am I being mean? I’m doing what you asked! I think that’s pretty nice of me, actually.”

You had nothing to say in response, just laughing. You were so happy. So loved.

That night, you fell asleep wrapped in George’s arms, the phantom sensation of his tickly fingers still on your abdomen.

***

“Tickling you is really fun,” George said. “I mean, it’s cute. You smile and you laugh and it’s adorable, and I know it makes you happy.”

You flushed, biting your lip. “But…?”

“No, no but. Well, maybe? I think…If you did it to me, I don’t know if I would hate it or not, but…I know you’ve mentioned that you like it either way…If you wanted to try, I mean, I’d be open to it.”

He was blushing, too. How fucking cute could he be?

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, if you’re open to it, I would love to try. Only if you’re sure, though. I know your brothers were pretty harsh, so I don’t wanna push.”

“No, I’m…I want you to try it. You always look like you’re having so much fun. And, it might take my mind off of the three surgeries I scrubbed in on today.”

You grinned. “It is a pretty good distraction.”

He laid back against the mattress, looking up at you with those doe eyes. You grinned, sitting up beside his body and using one hand to stroke his hair. “Where should I start, hm?”

George squirmed. “Well, when I was younger, my stomach was really bad. And, and my sides. But I’m pretty much ticklish everywhere, as you’ve discovered during other activities, which, if I had known you liked it, I wouldn’t have apologized so many times when I laughed—”

You interrupted his rambling by using one hand to lightly tickle his stomach, feeling his muscles jump beneath your fingertips, listening to the loud, squeaky laugh that burst from his lips.

“Still bad?” you asked.

“Still ticklish, but it doesn’t suck,” he giggled in response. He was clearly fighting to keep still, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You grinned. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” he cried. “I’m a strong, masculine—Ah!”

His laughter took on a new octave as you introduced your other hand to his belly.

“Too much?”

He shook his head. Then, after another minute, he shook it again. “Wait, no, actually, too much!”

You stopped immediately. “Are you okay?”

George wrapped his arms around his middle, protecting his middle although your onslaught had already stopped. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just…still a lot.”

“No worries. I know, it can be really overwhelming sometimes.”

He smiled. “A little. But I didn’t hate it,” he said. “We can try it again, another time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. For now, cuddle me.”

And, well, how could you say no to that?

[amphibiahawks321]

[Raspberry cookie takes Y/N cookie's hand gently, pressing a kiss to the back of the hand]

Raspberry : A lovely and crispy cookie such as yourself deserves the finest treatment, allow me to escort you through the garden, I wouldn't want you to be tired do i?~

[Y/N cookie immediately starts blushing from raspberry cookie's charm, him letting out a cough]

M!Reader cookie blushing : Ahem... My, you don't need to y'know—

Raspberry : Nonsense, it is my duty to ensure your utmost comfort, A true knight never lets their beloved feel unsafe

M!Reader cookie : .....

[Y/N let out a flattered laugh]

M!Reader cookie : It'll take a long time for me to decline such an offer huh?

Raspberry : Oh? I see that my offer has made you interested~

M!Reader cookie : Pftt! Fine, you may escort me through the garden my knight