#thank you for the ask!! i got a little carried away with this one but it was really fun!

[blackknight-kai]

Any headcanons for Sun Wukong and the Destined One [separate] catching female reader masturbating while crying out their name?

GOING BRAINROT FERAL HERE!

Ahem….

Thank you for feeding us with your delicious posts;)

Sending you lots of love and blessings, sincere and heartfelt health wishes too🩷🩷🩷

Okay okay I’ll give this a shot 😏 I personally feel like it might depend on the mood and where they are in the relationship. BUT I’ll give a crack at this one! This will be a specific scenario as I work better like that - in this you are in a relationship with them but haven’t progressed to the next level yet and you are a bit pent up. There will be a little rushed snippet and then the bullet point notes :) WARNING: I went more NSFW in this than previous asks. This is Fem reader! MINOR DNI

(Note after finishing: I got carried away…..after writing this I realized I kinda made two fics so….its a bit long sorry not sorry :))))))))))) (I’ll be turning these into mini fics I think on AO3 since i basically wrote them already 💀)

(Read under the cut 😘)

Destined One

He’d left you alone to scout the area around your near and camp as he does every night for any possible danger or trouble that might happen upon you while resting. You’d decided to take a little personal time while he was away, something you wouldn’t normally do but you guys had found a little cozy cave to rest in for the night. Knowing it would be a while before he came back you set about quickly setting up your furs and bed rolls, your body already revving up in anticipation for what youre going to do. You’re happy being with him, finally having confessed mutually and sneaking a few kisses here or there between your travels but watching him day in and day out fight with such focus and strength has culminated in a prominent need.

A need to have his hands on you for more than just guiding you or helping you stand, to feel his fur brush against your naked skin, to deepen those tantalizing kisses. You just WANT. And he hasn’t made any moves to show you that he wants more besides maybe what you think is a disappointed look in his eye when you both pull back from your kisses and go about your day or whatever task is at hand. He’s not very expressive as it is, you were lucky to manage getting a slight flush on his cheeks and a firm head nod when you guys decided to be a couple. He’s good at masking his emotions and so while you want him, youre a bit nervous to tell him what you need. You have no doubts he’d fulfill it especially if it’s something he wants too. But getting the courage up to ask is another thing entirely, part of you wishes he would just DO something.

So instead of communicating your need you decide to take advantage of this prime opportunity while he is away, its been too long since you had any real privacy and you can already feel yourself pulse as you finish setting up for the night

Just in case you listen closely for a moment to see if there is anyone close by but hearing nothing you settle down on to your back on your bed roll. Your breath picks up as excitement washes over you and against your better judgment you slip your clothes off. Goose bumps ripple over your skin as the warm breeze gently flows through the cave. Your heart races and as you skim your fingers across your breasts and nipples you sigh as you close your eyes and imagine familiar claw tipped hands replacing your own. You picture him above you, his determined frown focused on you as he explores your skin. As your imagination takes hold you continue your perusal of your body sliding your fingers down trying not to rush too much in your need as you spread your thighs.

- [ ] His patrol doesnt take quite as long as it usually does tonight

- [ ] At first he takes his time heading back just enjoying not having to be in a rush for once

- [ ] But as his too sharp hearing picks up the distant sound of your voice, what sounds like a pained cry, he immediately goes tense and is off running back towards your cave his staff gripped tightly in hand

- [ ] As he quickly grows closer he notes a distinct difference in your voice, something about it makes him slow down

- [ ] Your sounds are not what he usually associates with your fear or pain

- [ ] Instead as the next sound carries through the forest for his expert hearing, the breathy tone of your voice instantly sends a ripple through him and makes his fur feel like its standing on end

- [ ] He’d heard these sounds before, just not from you. The other monkey’s from home would occasionally sneak off with each other and he’d have the pleasure of hearing their activities even being quite a ways away.

- [ ] This though doesnt give him the same grossed out feeling

- [ ] Oh no. It sends a tidal wave of heat straight to gut

- [ ] You are being pleasured and by the sounds of it youre enjoying yourself

- [ ] A flash of possessive anger rushes through him wondering who could be touching you in such a way that wasnt him

- [ ] But as he stalks closer and steps between the trees he freezes

- [ ] Relief washes over him, youre alone

- [ ] But thats quickly replaced by instant hot desire as his mouth goes dry and his length starts to harden just from that first glimpse

- [ ] You’re in the shallow cave NAKED and on your back, knees up and thighs spread.

- [ ] His mouth slowly falls open as his expression goes slack as it becomes very clear what you’re doing by the wet slick sound coming from between your legs where your hand disappears from his view

- [ ] He cant even blink nor look away completely and utterly locked on to your flushed skin and the needy pinch of your brow as you pant making soft little moans

- [ ] As you arch your back, a louder cry leaving your mouth as you shift your hips desperately, he feels his cock throb painfully bringing him back to reality for a moment

- [ ] Shame courses through him, he should NOT be watching this, you obviously waited until hed been gone to take your pleasure he should definitely grant you your privacy. While you are a couple he wasnt one to push past your boundaries not wanting to make you do something youre not ready for no matter how much he struggles to not touch you every damn day

- [ ] But he cant seem to move, not as your breasts jiggle softly from your body’s movements your peaked nipples drawing his attention.

- [ ] He licks his lips, tail twitching with jerky movements behind him as he feels his cock leak and wet the front of his pants from your display, fuck does he want you

- [ ] Clenching his fists hard, digging his claws into his skin he tries to come back to himself and just as he’s about to turn away from you your fingers seem to speed up and then he hears it

- [ ] It being HIS name being ripped out of your mouth in the most breathy needy tone he has ever heard, the name youd given him.

- [ ] He has to grip himself HARD to stop himself from cumming on the spot and he shudders as the wet sounds your fingers are making is driving him fucking insane

- [ ] He forgets himself completely and unable to help it steps towards you as his own desire to be the one to make you cry for him like that over takes him

- [ ] He practically pants, his breath coming in short bursts as he takes in your sweat slick skin and the red flush

- [ ] His body thrums with heat as the sounds of your moans and the wet easy slide of your fingers is all he can focus on as he steps onto your bedroll, his dick is hard as hell and twitches with every sound you make.

- [ ] And your scent, fuck he can smell your ecstasy and need. It makes his knees weak and his mouth water

- [ ] You dont seem to notice him right away, not until he’s dropping to his knees hard right beside you fully taking in how wet your thighs are and how slick your fingers look as they disappear inside you

- [ ] As you register his sudden presence though your eyes fly open and your movements freeze, he cant help but track the movement of your breasts as you lie there panting and surprised

- [ ] He doesnt give you even a moment to freak out or whatever it is you might do

- [ ] No, instead he places a shaky hand on your arm, the one you stretched down between your thighs as you took your gorgeous pleasure

- [ ] “Can I?” He asks lowly, voice rough with disuse and filled with thick desire. “Please?”

- [ ] You seem to still at his request your eyes widening and he holds his own breath waiting to see what you’d do. He hopes with every fiber of his being you say yes

- [ ] When you nod shyly and begin to retract your hand he slides his gently down your arm and shivers as his claw tipped fingers meet with your slick warm ones. His eyes never leave yours as much as he wants to look down, he doesnt want to miss the expression on your face.

- [ ] He doesnt hold your hand though, instead he continues his gently descent until he meets your soaked warm pussy lips

- [ ] It’s then that he finally lets out the breath shaky he was holding as you arch up into his touch pushing his fingers to slide further against your slick core

- [ ] His cock jerks painfully at how hot and wet you feel as his fingers tenderly explore. As you close your eyes reaching up to grip his shirt with your still slick fingers he lets his own gaze slide down your body watching as you shyly shift your hips against his long fingers

- [ ] When you let out a little breathy sound as he brushes against your little nub he knows hes a fucking goner

- [ ] “You’re so beautiful,” He’d mumble raspy and heated

- [ ] And when he finally slides a finger in you another immediately follows. with you so slick and ready for him causing him to groan deeply

- [ ] He has made it his mission from here on, this is how you will spend every night from now on. You wont need to take things into your own hands, not if he can help it.

Wukong

He is away doing whatever it is that Wukong does every day. Be it fighting something, pissing someone off, or just getting into something he probably definitely absolutely should not get into. You’d been hurt, twisted your ankle of all things, so you were stuck back at camp. You’d found a little shallow cave two days ago to recover at, not wanting Wukong to carry you everywhere. On the surface that sounds nice and he would definitely do it as you either fed his ego or told him he was too weak to do it. He’s easy like that. But what isnt easy to deal with is how much fun he has tossing you up and down or making you almost sick as he bounces you as he walks just because he thinks its funny to make you squawk with annoyance at him. So it’s easier to just rest and enjoy a little peace while he gallivants off to cause whatever mischief that doesnt have to do with you for once as you are his usual victim. Apparently having mutual feelings and being mates does not quell his need for chaos. In fact it amplifies it you think.

The only downside to having his attention on you even more now is that the mischievous little (he’s taller than you but thats besides the point) asshole doesnt seem to have a horny bone in his body. It’s been months of simple hand holding, if you can get him to sit still long enough, and literal stolen kisses. He apparently enjoys his little surprise attacks as they fluster you but not because youre too shy or because it scares you, no. It’s because you need more than a simple kiss or his soft fuzzy tail wrapping around your waist or arm keeping you close to him as you walk. You’d even tried once to time changing your clothes so they were partly off when he would be arriving back to camp after doing a quick patrol only for him to immediately start ranting and raving about some slippery little creature he’d happened across as he poked at the fire and began cooking that nights dinner over the flames. He didn’t even spare you a glance and his posture was relaxed as can be. Not even as the sound of your clothes rustling seemed to catch his attention as he drooled over the cooking food.

And so, your frustration escalated. You know at some point you’ll have to talk to him but thats a problem for future you because you just KNOW it’s going to be an ordeal. Nothing can ever be easy with him especially when it comes to his damn ego which no doubt will be stroked heavily knowing you want him, that is unless he doesnt have an inclination towards such intimacies.

Today he had been especially restless and so had you. You had decided that while he was gone you were going to pamper yourself a little and relieve the sexual tension you’d built up inside yourself. Watching his ever present shows of strength and that cocky attitude of his always sends a stirring in you and it doesnt help when he walks around sometimes with his shirt off showing his rippling muscles under all that soft looking fur. When he finally grew too impatient with sitting around, he didn’t like having to wait for you to heal but agreed to it nonetheless knowing you aren’t built like him, he stood abruptly and told you he was going on an adventure. You waved him off trying to be nonchalant as excitement tickled down your back knowing what you had planned for yourself for the day.

And so as his furry tail flicked out of view you waited a handful of minutes giving him time to get some distance away before you couldnt take it anymore. You’d gotten a nice body oil from a village youd passed by a week or so ago, it smelled lovely and reminded you of peaches. You hadn’t used it yet, but figured if it had a fragrance Wukong’s sensitive nose wouldn’t be too disturbed if it smelled like his favorite snack. Acting quickly you hurry to wash your skin and body in a near by spring. You might have taken your time normally but you didn’t want to put this off any longer. After youre done you make your way to back to the shallow cave and sit on your bed roll and fur blankets that Wukong had gifted you. Your skin is still a little damp and the afternoon breeze makes goosebumps ripple across your naked skin. With a small content hum you grab your sweet scented oil and being applying it to your skin slowly, gently, enjoying the sensation as your body starts to warm up from your ministrations.

As your breath starts to quicken you lie back on the furs and using both hands you glide your hands across your soft oil slick skin sensually. It’s not long before you close your eyes and start to lose yourself in a fantasy, imagining a hard but softly furred body rolling against yours and curious fingers possessively mapping out your skin as teasing fangs nip from your neck to your breasts.

- [ ] Wukong had grown bored VERY quickly after he left you at camp. There was NOTHING around for him to do no one to fight and no distractions from his ever growing need to be closer to you - which he will NEVER show.

- [ ] He doesnt know if youre doing it on purpose, probably not, but the way you sometimes look at him makes him twitchy and hot. He’s not some impulsive boy unable to control his more primal urges but you test his control daily

- [ ] He’s not sure if you’ve been using a new scented lotion or perfume but the scent coming off of you at random times the last several weeks has been making him need to grind his teeth to keep from reaching out and pulling your body tightly against his

- [ ] Thankfully he’s learned self discipline and finds it relatively easy to keep an air of innocence around you, not wanting to scare you off with his ever present and growing desire to lick you from your cute little toes to your sweet sweet mouth.

- [ ] Sitting around camp with you today was testing his patience. He’d noticed that slight flush on your cheeks assumed you may just be a bit warm as the day was a little hotter than usual. Unfortunately the sight of your reddened cheeks did nothing but fuel his imagination.

- [ ] If hes honest with himself desires like this were new, not in regards to you, but in general. So getting away from you for a while was always the best bet, he keeps an ear out in case you need him of course but fighting something always helps relieve the tension he builds up being in your presence

- [ ] Unfortunately the area surrounding your little temporary home was quiet. Too damn quiet. He almost thinks about going a little further out but quickly decides against it, not wanting to get too far from you in case something DID happen

- [ ] Which is why, as he’s hopping through the large forest trees, he ends up circling back towards the shallow cave

- [ ] His pace is fairly lax, enjoying the warm air and the calm familiar sounds of the woods

- [ ] Wukongs mind wanders a little to what lies ahead on your little journey as he makes his way back. He’s quite lost in thought so it takes him a moment to realize that something is amiss as he gets closer

- [ ] His sharp ears pick up the sound of your voice but it’s not something he’s heard before, or well he has, kind of. Only when youd eaten something really really good and you make a happy little noise that always makes his old heart skip a beat

- [ ] Well now he’s just curious, what did you find to eat? Were you hiding it from him to keep it all to yourself? How had he not known? Or smelled it?

- [ ] With a huff he picks up his pace racing through the trees determined to give you shit for trying to hide some wonderful little treat from him

- [ ] He can hear you better now that he’s close and just before he breaks through the trees he stops with a smirk deciding to sneak up on you as punishment

- [ ] But in his haste he missed a crucial detail - one he now is acutely aware of as he pauses just as the little camp comes into view

- [ ] He freezes, going completely still as he takes in the sight before him and the very obvious soft squelching sound echoing a little in the shallow cave. His keen hearing amplifying the sound.

- [ ] Hot HOT desire ripples through his strong frame causing every single hair on his body to stand on end like he’d been hit by lightning as he takes in your naked body, hips shifting just so as your hand is going to work between your thighs as you moan

- [ ] His simian nostrils flare as your scent hits him like a boulder almost knocking him off his feet, well at least now he knows where that heady scent you sometimes carry comes from. He salivates at the thought of tasting your nectar. There’s another scent mixed with your pleasure, faintly it smells almost like peaches but not quite.

- [ ] Your soft sounds wash over him causing a full on shudder to go through him. His cock hardening in an instant as you then whine HIS fucking name

- [ ] Something inside him almost snaps - later youd tell him it was his arrogance and ego swelling to the size of 5 mountains

- [ ] You are touching yourself wanting HIM, Wukong, and that sends a possessive growl rumbling through his chest, his claw tipped fingers flexing with the need to reach out and grab you, to touch you, to run his claws gently down your skin and watch you shiver and squirm

- [ ] You dont hear it of course too lost in stuffing your needy hole but by the sounds of it, its not quite enough for you

- [ ] Wukong keeps himself in place for a moment longer as he watches you tend to yourself, one of your hands slides up the side of your breast and pinches a nipple and he licks his lips at the sight, wanting to know what they taste like

- [ ] His tail flicks with pent up energy behind him as he finally stalks forward, a predator about to pounce on his prey

- [ ] But he has no intentions of helping you as he strips himself of his shirt letting it fall to the ground not caring where

- [ ] His furry chest is rapidly expanding with his quickened breaths, he breathes purposely through his nose wanting to capture every moment of your scent and commit it to memory

- [ ] Finally sensing you’re not alone you open your eyes and still with a sharp shocked breath. He watches as your cheeks redden further with surprise and embarrassment

- [ ] Quick as a whip before you can even pull your fingers away from your soaked pussy he’s between your knees bullying his way through with one hand holding you open by his grip on your thigh and his tail wrapping around the other. Spreading you open for his heated gaze

- [ ] He has ahold of your wrist preventing you from pulling back and before you can even think of protesting he pulls on your wrist, gently but firmly, you gasp as your fingers slip out of your pussy, the wet sound sending a tingle of embarrassment through you

- [ ] Instantly he has your dripping fingers pressed against his nose and mouth as he huffs in your scent before licking at them

- [ ] Feeling you tremble in his strong hold and your little shocked gasp he locks eyes with you and smirks as he licks your fingers completely clean as though he was starving for the taste

- [ ] He can tell you dont know what to do, that your torn between embarrassment and want. But he doesnt mind, he’s made the decision for you

- [ ] Wukong nips your fingers teasingly before he lowers your hand and places it back against your pussy, he uses his fingers to press yours pointedly against your slick lower lips and the little wet sound that accompanies the movement makes you both shiver.

- [ ] He slips his fingers in between yours, teasingly touching you for a moment as his fingers glide through your slick

- [ ] A light growl/groan rumbles through his chest as he looks at you with half lidded eyes filled with naked desire

- [ ] Slowly and deliberately he lets go of your hand, pleased when you keep your hand right where he’d placed it, and begins undoing his pants

- [ ] His puffs his furry chest out a little and chuckles, the sound husky as he watches your expression turn needy as he dips his hand into his pants and brings his throbbing dick out, enjoying how heavily your breathing gets and how your eyes seem to be unable to look away as he spreads your juices over his cock

- [ ] Scooting forward so that his cock presses against the back of your knuckles he smirks down at you

- [ ] “Since you decided to take your pleasure for yourself, give us a show my sweet peach.” He demands like the king he is with no room for arguments, wanting you to resume touching yourself while he watches and takes himself in hand. Punishing you a little for taking a special privilege away from him

[laurentidal]

Sitter TV

“So the money is on the bar, and we’ll be back around midnight.”

Mr. Thompson was a nice guy. Always paid well to watch his kid when he and his wife went out. Karli never felt weird around him. Never felt like he was going to creep on her or anything. Just a genuinely nice guy. His wife was a little uppity, but otherwise also bearable. She was never outright mean, just a little bit condescending. When Karli had dyed her hair, she’d heard Mrs. Thompson ask her husband if they still wanted me to watch their daughter. He’d stood up for her, which felt nice.

“Oh and the TV is new,” he said. “It’s a smart TV and it’s got all these… I dunno… Channels? Apps? Watch whatever. You’ll probably know how to work it better than we do by the end of the night.”

Karli chuckled. She probably would.

“There’s one we added today for you,” Mrs. Thompson added. “It’s called Sitter TV. Don’t know if it’s to entertain kids or if its for the babysitters.”

“I’ll check it out, thanks.”

“In bed by nine,” he called as they closed the door.

“You got it!”

The night was uneventful for the most part. The little girl was quite shy, but Karli could get her to play. She’d put on the girl’s cat ear headband and they’d pretend to be cat princesses in a magical far away kingdom. Finally, around eight, Karli sat down and turned on Sitter TV to see what it was.

It sure looked like cartoons, though she’d never seen these before.

“You wanna watch for an hour before bed?”

She nodded.

So the two sat on the couch and watched the cartoons. An hour passed, and they were both, kind of tired. Play will do that to you, so Karli took her upstairs and laid her in bed, watching her drift off quickly. She wandered back downstairs and noticed the TV was still on. Still playing Sitter TV. She sat back down in front of it, not wanting to turn it off just yet. What had they been watching? She couldn’t remember.

She sat there on the couch, cartoon after cartoon playing. Each one was a little weirder. Maybe late at night, the programming changed. Karli was transfixed. She couldn’t wait to see what was going to be on next. Hours passed. At a certain point, she stopped even being aware of the plot of what she was watching. To her mind, they were just lights and sounds on the screen. A small trickle of drool ran down over her lip.

“Sitter TV,” a voice said from behind her. She hadn’t ever heard Mrs. Thompson enter. Even now, she didn’t turn to look at the woman. “As advertised.”

Hands came down and stroked Karli’s cheek. A finger ran up, wiping the drool as it went. The other hand dropped lower, pinching Karli’s nipple through her shirt and bra. She inhaled sharply, but never blinked. Never took her eyes from the TV.

“Listen to me, girl,” Mrs. Thompson said harshly. “You belong to me now. You are my slave.”

“I am your slave,” she heard a familiar voice say.

“I am your Mistress.”

“You are my Mistress.”

“You will obey me.”

“I will obey you.”

“Good. Now act natural for my husband. Wake, but remain enslaved.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Karli blinked. Once. Twice. Then stood smiling as Mr. Thompson entered the room carrying bags from some late night store they’d stopped at.

“I’m going to take Karli home, dear,” Mistress Thompson said sweetly.

“Okay!” her husband called from the kitchen.

“In the car.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

The drive home was uneventful for the most part. Mistress Thompson was so nice. Karli licked her pussy the whole drive and at the end, she was even allowed to cum herself. Karli was so lucky to belong to her.

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[intheholler]

just wanted to share my worthless piece on the "if i count" dynamic

lived in appalachia all my life, traveled the south a ways. i think, no matter where you're from, there's a marked difference in those of us who were spend/spent time in rural areas, tiny quiet towns, etc. and those who were raised in big cities - even big cities in the south.

all the rural areas have something in common - sure, the specific cultures and types of people who settled the land may be different, but our ancestors (and even us in modern times) had to come much more to terms with living with the land, making the most out of a little, than those who have only ever known the city, and especially those who look down on rural folks

and once you've gotten a taste of that rural life, and even the types of poverty that come with it... once you've been raised by people who lived with that, it doesn't shake out of you, no matter where you end up finding yourself. it ingrains itself in your soul, to where sometimes personally i feel like an entirely different species to those who have only ever known the concrete jungle, who have never been around anyone who trekked through the holler or hiked the plains or climbed those big mountains.

that type of living, that type of history that gets leeched into you even if you feel you didn't get the full experience of living there, puts that spirit into your soul, and you carry it. whether you got it from a life of personal experience, or you were raised by a country man or woman, or anything between.

even if you find yourself in a metropolis, you're not lookin' at it the same way that people who have always lived there do... even if it seems like them ol' hollers and hills, or plains, or valleys, or mountains are light years away.

you can't abandon it. it can't abandon you. you can try to tamper your accent, you can try to remove all signs of the "negative" stereotypes, but it's the soil that fed your roots. once you've been touched by it, you're as much the holler as the holler itself is, in a way

that's my two cents, anyway

you can't abandon it. it can't abandon you. you can try to tamper your accent, you can try to remove all signs of the "negative" stereotypes, but it's the soil that fed your roots. once you've been touched by it, you're as much the holler as the holler itself is, in a way

THIS is what i have tried n tried to say over the course of dozens of such posts, and you managed to condense it into one neat, poignant paragraph. thank you. i have nothing to add.

this whole ask is beautiful and exactly what i always want to say, actually. i'd wanna pin it to my blog but atp, i simply cannot part with The Sign

thanks so much for this. was definitely not worthless <33

[thatdammchickennugget]

hello my lovely flower can I request a cozy fluffy request with the mauraders and a reader cow animagus 🐮🥹🌸 about how they fall asleep in the meadows and the they subtly watches over to make sure no harm comes to her - lmfao this is so random so spin it how you want 💛

Full Moos and Quiet Fields

pairing -remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings - animagus!reader, can be read as romantic or platonic, fluff

wordcount - 656

a/n - omg I completely forgot about this and got reminded how this idea happened in the first place 💀 thanks for the request, this was so cute and fun to write. did it for remmy, hope that's okay 💕I love you my favourite flower💕absolutely love that moodboard btw I am obsessed with little highland cows!!

The wind rustled gently through the tall grass, and the meadow seemed to hum with the quiet comfort of early afternoon. Remus walked beside you, his shoulders hunched, the full moon just days away and already pressing down on him like a weight. His face, usually marked by a quiet indifference or a sarcastic smirk, now bore only the signs of exhaustion. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his hands trembled slightly as he held his robe tighter around his thin frame.

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered, his voice a little rough, a little tired. “You don’t have to keep doing this. I’ll be fine.”

You turned to him, a soft smile playing on your lips, though you knew he wasn’t looking at you, too wrapped in his own haze of fatigue. "You're never a bother, Rem. Besides, we both know you sleep better out here. I like it too."

His tired eyes flickered with something close to gratitude, though he didn’t say anything more. The meadow lay just ahead, its rolling hills and soft patches of wildflowers bathed in golden sunlight. It was hidden away on the far edge of the Hogwarts grounds, a place you had stumbled upon together months ago, and since then, it had become your little sanctuary.

As you reached the heart of the meadow, you kicked off your shoes and stretched your arms toward the sky, the warmth of the sun sinking into your skin. Remus stopped beside you, leaning heavily against a tree, watching as you took a few steps forward into the tall grass.

“Ready?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

He gave a weary nod, and with that, you closed your eyes, feeling the familiar warmth and pull of your Animagus transformation. There was always something peaceful about shifting into your other form—your small highland cow body was soft and sturdy, a contrast to the fragile human shape you left behind. As your hooves touched the earth, a sense of calm spread through you.

You lowered yourself into the grass, the blades tickling your fur as you lay down, your large, gentle eyes flicking over to where Remus stood. For a moment, he hesitated, his lips pulling into a rueful smile. But then, as he had so many times before, he walked toward you and collapsed into your side, his head resting against your thick, woolly neck.

The tension in his body seemed to melt away as soon as he touched you. You felt him sigh, deeply, a sound that carried with it days' worth of worry and pain. His hand came up to rest in your fur, his fingers weakly gripping at the thick coat, grounding him as he pressed closer, seeking your warmth.

You shifted slightly, making sure he was comfortable, and then settled in, your own body soaking in the sunlight. The warmth seeped into both of you, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing in time with his slowing one. Remus drifted off to sleep almost immediately, his exhaustion so deep it pulled him under within minutes.

Your ears flicked lazily as you stared out over the meadow, watching the wind play with the tall grass, the birds darting through the sky above. Peace settled around you like a blanket, the world narrowed down to just the two of you in this little patch of serenity. You could feel Remus’s breath, steady now, against your side, his body entirely at ease in a way it rarely was.

Here, in your animagus form, you could watch over him without the worry of breaking the fragile moment. You were his silent protector, a sturdy presence in the quiet moments before the storm of the full moon came crashing in. He needed this—this stillness, this safety. And as you lay there in the grass, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun, you couldn’t think of anywhere else you'd rather be.

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[buwheal]

I wanna give him a blanket. Can it maybe just materialize outta nowhere?

(I know fabric wrinkles suck to draw. You don't gotta 😵)

[hourcat]

piarles + bow!! for me!! 🎀

It's never been weird between them, Pierre swears, not once: they've been friends since they were small, growing up together on the same street, playing in the same parks as they'd agreed to be paleontologists or astronauts or footballers, and it'd never mattered once to him that Charles was a girl in all that time--even when they'd gotten shipped off to different high schools across town, it hadn't changed their relationship.

But now...now, as Pierre stands out in front of Charles' house waiting with his shitty Honda parked out front, all but trembling in this oddly-tailored suit for prom, he thinks the line of weird may have finally been crossed after all these years.

It's finally been crossed because Charles in her dress looks beautiful--not covered in dirt or wearing ragged clothes she'd stolen from her older brother, or even in her usual baggy jeans look, but really elegant in a way that Pierre had never even imagined her in before; red fabric that has to be satin spilling down her legs, tapering off at her ankles, a bunched up flower nestled in the perfect center of her chest. Her hair is curled intentionally and not just from humidity--ringlets spilling over her shoulders, a stunning red bow peeking out from behind her head to tie some of it back, and oh.

"What are you looking at," she deadpans, but her mouth is curved up in that usual smirk she gives him, and Pierre realizes that her lipstick matches her dress; he clutches the corsage case tighter and shakes his head, trying to play it off, but it's no use--she's caught him red-handed as she starts making her way towards the car, and when her smirk stretches into a full-on grin, he knows he's doomed.

[new-eyes-extra-colors]

Character Design Asks: stillness, night, arms, alternate

Stillness: How does your OC act while still?

Nora is very fidgety; she has trouble sitting still. She plays with her jewelry or her hair a lot, and drums her fingers on whatever's nearby. She does dissociate sometimes, and tends to sit very still then.

Ace generally sits very still except for bouncing their leg. They're a pretty big person so it tends to shake whatever they're sitting on. They also hum or sing to themselves, or play their harmonica.

Night: What does your OC wear to sleep?

Nora wears a tank top and underwear, and adds leggings if it's cold.

Ace is a boxers-only sort of person.

Arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they’re not fighting?

Nora carries Danse's laser rifle Righteous Authority and a 10 mm pistol. Later, she switches the pistol out for Deliverer and the rifle out for a gauss rifle found in a DIA cache. She carries the pistols in a shoulder holster on her left side, and the rifles slung over her shoulder with the barrel pointed down and to the right, so she can pull them into firing position quickly.

Ace's main weapon is a .357 magnum revolver, Lucky. When they get to New Vegas, they purchase a shiskebab called Gehenna. They carry Lucky on their left hip, and Gehenna on their back with the hilt positioned over their right shoulder.

Alternate: What would your OC’s alternate universe look be?

Here they both are as Elder Scrolls characters:

Nora would be a Cyrodiilic ranger; top skills would be archery, stealth, illusion magic, and alchemy. She'd live in the wilderness, tend her garden, and give helpful potions to travelling adventurers.

Ace would be a Redguard mercenary; top skills would be long bladed weapons, destruction magic, alteration magic, and armor/weapon repair. They'd still do courier work--they like bringing people things.

[in-class-daydreams]

Imagine yours and ex-husband Gojo's son possessing both the six-eyes and limitless, just like his father.

You'd ask him how was school and he'd beam while toeing off his shoes.

"Sensei and I spent hours perfecting my domain." Sen stretched out his shoulder. "I'm so tired!"

Sukuna may have been rough around the edges (to say the least) but surprisingly his teaching style worked like a charm with your son.

Even more surprising is that Sen and Sukuna seem to actually like each other. They're Kyoto Jujutsu High's strongest mentor-mentee duo. That little detail is best kept away from Satoru.

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo dropping off some flowers to you ("as friends!") and when you head to the kitchen find a nice vase, his eyes lock on another bouquet sitting on your dining table.

"You got another admirer, sweetheart?" he'd say jokingly, assuming they were from Sen or you bought them yourself. Your silence suggests otherwise.

He'd walk up behind you and put his big hands on your hips. Whispering in your ear, "Who're they from, baby? Does he make you feel the way I do?"

Tired of his tendency to get in your business, you turn around and push him off you. "It's none of your business. Stay in your lane before Sen puts you through a wall again!"

~

Imagine ex-husband Gojo coming over again with Sen's (tentative) permission.

Gojo would drape himself all across your couch and say, "Y'know, there's still time to transfer him to Tokyo High. There's no rules against it and I'm literally the only one who can properly teach him how to use our cursed techniques."

"It would be nice to have him learn with another six-eyes user, but he's doing very well at his current school," you'd tell your ex. "He and Sukuna work very well together."

"And how well do you and him work together?" he'd ask casually.

"Excuse me?"

"Mom, I'm back!" Sen would burst through the front door and wrap you in a giant bear hug. He only spares his father a fleeting glance. "Don't you have anything better to do other than bothering my mom?"

Satoru would ignore the comment. "Hey, kiddo, what do you think about transferring schools and learning from me? I could teach you a lot about your abilities! What do you say?"

Sen's face would contort with disgust. "No thanks. I actually want to learn how to fight, not just rely on limitless and the six-eyes to carry me."

The evening would end with Satoru storming out the house, Sen locking himself in his room, and you taking a few pills for your growing headache.

~

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[cumikering]

Ghost x plus-sized reader

2.1k | fluff, drink spiking Did you just call Simon weak? The rest of the 141 didn’t like that

“Can I carry you?”

At the pub table, you almost spat the last gulp of your drink at the question. You turned to the source of the gruff voice, meeting the man’s chest before craning your neck up to his eyes. He had to be over 6 ft tall.

You set your glass down. “I’m sorry?”

“My mates are betting I can’t get anyone to piggyback.”

“And you picked me?”

He nodded at your top. “Skulls are sort of my lucky charm.”

You scoffed, looking past him at the other ladies in the room. “Are you serious? There are plenty who weigh far less.”

His brow rose. “Are you calling me weak?”

You took in the width of his shoulders, how his loose black shirt couldn’t hide the thickness of his biceps – the left one inked. He was handsome, rugged with the scar across his cheek, his short blond hair and light scruff, but his stare and bluntness made him beyond intimidating.

How could you get out of this situation with the least fuss?

“N- no.”

His eyes softened a touch. “May I? Please?”

Playing along and getting it over with should be the safest bet. “Okay... But-”

He turned his back and squatted slightly. “Hop on.”

“Wait- are you sure you can?”

“Hop on,” he repeated.

At that point, it was not your fault anymore if he ended up embarrassing himself. So you gripped his hard shoulders and did as told before he swiftly hooked his large hands under your jean-clad thighs. He didn’t grunt or strain when he bounced you to position and straightened up. As if you weighed nothing, which was a feeling you never thought you’d experience.

You had to give it to him - his strength was impressive. You chuckled to yourself, seeing the top of everyone’s head amused you. Across the pub, the table of three men grinned at the massive stranger. The one with the mohawk was very much entertained as he gave him thumbs up.

It was then that Simon groaned, because his team was embarrassing the hell out of him. That, and he finally got to feel how soft and warm you were pressed up against him. A little creepy, but a man was allowed to fantasise about a birdie he’d been eyeing, right?

“That’s all, yeah? You just have to carry-”

He stepped towards the bar, making you latch onto him.

“Oh! Where are you going?

“I’m getting you a drink.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, I insist.” When he flagged the barman down, you held on tighter. “It’s the least I can offer for getting you involved.”

You laughed, your breath warm against his ear. “Are you going to set me down or am I having my drink on your back?”

“Don’t give me ideas.” He chuckled as he lowered you to your feet.

He leaned against the bar, arm folded as he stared at you on the stool, downing your shot before looking at yourself on your selfie cam.

“Would you… like something as well?” you asked after you tucked your phone back in your pocket.

He shook his head.

“Okay. Well, thanks for he drink. You could get back to your mates if you want.”

“I’m Simon,” he mustered instead.

“Hi.” You shifted in your seat. “Is something the matter?”

“No.” He frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just you’ve been staring, and there’s nothing on my face. I checked.”

Bloody hell, could he be any more awkward? He just wanted to ask why you were alone without being weird about it.

He looked away. “I didn’t mean to.” You make me stupid. It didn’t help that your previous drink had tinted your lips, looking even more kissable up close.

“I think your mates want you back though.” You chuckled, nodding at his table.

When he turned to them, they immediately busied themselves with their drinks, averting their gazes.

“They’re a nosy bunch, they are.” He inched closer to you. “The one in the beanie, that’s our captain. The other two are my sergeants.”

“You’re the lieutenant?”

He hummed. “The one with the mohawk is the prankster. He’s a bad influence. He’ll talk you into doing anything.”

“He put you up to this then?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

As if on cue, Soap looked up with an uncontained grin, only to look back down when he realised eyes were on him.

”Seems like he can’t wait to say hi.” He swiftly picked you up off your seat, bridal-style. “Is this enough to show you weigh nothin’?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab a handful of your soft thigh and waist.

“Oh- oh dear!” You laughed, arm wrapping around his neck, pretty fingers grasping his bicep. “Wait, wait, put me down!”

When you were back on your feet, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Sorry, I’m actually meeting someone. He’s almost here.”

So that was why you were alone. You were waiting for someone. Disappointment anchored at the bottom of his chest.

“Right. Okay.”

You smiled. “Thanks for the drink, Simon. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He grunted and you headed to the end of the bar. He stood umoving for another second before retreating to his table like a kicked puppy.

“L.T., wha’ happened? She was havin’ so much fun!” Soap shot as soon as Simon took his seat next to him.

“She’s meetin’ someone,” he said quietly.

“Aww… Sorry, Ghost,” Gaz said. “But hey, she let you carry her!”

With your back to him, you looked at your phone whenever a man walked in.

Huh, first date?

You flagged down some other blond man who walked over to you with a smile. The barman took your order before you chatted with him with a polite smile, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Simon was in no place to watch and invade your privacy – he really should look away. But what was it that simmered in him when the bloke scooted closer, his arm along the back of your chair?

He laughed, pointing at something on the TV. You looked up, and your hand deftly covered your drink, like an instinct.

He smirked. Smart girl.

“I know she’s with someone, but I can tell she likes you more,” Price said, and Simon finally tore his gaze away from you.

“Ye should fight ‘im, L.T. He dinnae stand a fuckin’ chance.”

“You can knock him out with a slap,” Gaz quipped.

He chuckled, blatantly looking over Price to you again. “Rather just look.” While it wasn’t for him, at least he could watch your pretty smile from here and quench his thirst a bit.

With the bloke’s drink in hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand inching to your covered drink now. He tipped his glass over you, causing you to jump and grab serviettes to dab yourself with. Just as fast, his fisted hand opened over your drink before helping you.

“No fucking way,” Simon said out loud.

“What?” Gaz followed his line of sight.

He marched over, yanking the man around by the shoulder. “What the bloody hell did you just do?”

He stumbled off his seat from the force, making the lieutenant tower over him even more. “What? Who- Do you know him?” He turned to you.

His finger jabbed the man’s chest. “What. The. Fuck. Did you put in her drink?”

“Nothing! What are you accusing me of?”

Simon didn’t miss the crack in the man’s voice. He raised your drink to the man’s face, a tiny white tablet swaying at the bottom of the glass. “Empty your pockets.”

“Simon, what’s…”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

The man fished out his phone, wallet and keys with trembling hands.

“That’s not all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing else, mate!” he said exasperatedly.

Simon’s patience ran dry. He patted his front pocket, hand bumping over something. “You need to see this,” he said quietly to you.

You hesitantly stuck your hand in the man’s left pocket, coming up with a bag of white tablets.

The man smacked the bag out of your hand. “You planted that, you slag!”

“If you didn’t do anything, drink it.” He spat, holding out your drink to him, now cloudy and fizzing.

He stared at the glass. “Fuck you,” he said, pushing it onto Simon’s chest before dashing out of the pub.

“Did he…”

“The fuck was that, Simon?” Price questioned from behind him.

“Fucking piece of shit spiked her drink.”

Price turned to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You got his name and number, love?”

“Yes.” You blinked. ”Yes, his number and dating profile.”

“I’m sending the coppas his way.” He picked up the evidence on the ground with a serviette. “Simon, get the details and make sure she gets home safe,” he said before approaching the barman.

You dried his ruined shirt with a wad of serviette. “I can’t even begin to thank you for your help, Simon. Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have-”

“You did good.” He squeezed your hand over his chest. “You covered your glass when you weren’t looking, but spilling his drink on you was something else.”

When you looked up at him with wide eyes, he dropped your hand.

“Would you like me to send you home?”

“I don’t want to trouble you. I don’t even live nearby.”

“Would you let me, if I want to?”

There was a pause before you smiled. “I think I’d like that, actually.”

When he grabbed his jacket from the table, Soap patted him on the back.

“Good catch, L.T. What a fuckin’ disgrace, the lad.”

“Have fun, Ghost,” Gaz teased.

Outside the pub where the streets were quieter, you forwarded the profile and chat screenshots of the man from your group chat to Simon.

“Can’t be too cautious. I’m not surprised if that’s not even his name honestly.” You shrugged, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “I knew it was dodgy he insisted on meeting here when I said I’d rather somewhere in the middle, in broad daylight. That, and he was half an hour late too!”

It was disheartening to know this was the reality of dating, that all sorts of people lurked online, sometimes not with the best intentions. He’d show you his ID just to prove he wasn’t a creep, just someone smitten with a staring problem if any.

“If it was me, I’d have taken you anywhere you wanted.”

You chuckled.

“On my back too, if you prefer. I think you quite enjoyed that.”

“I did, actually,” you teased. “Is it a bad time to tell you I’m starving?”

“Yeah? That’s good news, because I’m always hungry. A kebab sounds about right at this hour.”

“Extra chips?”

“Extra chips,” he affirmed.

“You know what, I think this is my sign.” You pulled out your phone again, deleting an app. “Don’t think online dating was ever my thing.”

Is a stranger at a pub who shamelessly stares at you more your thing?

“Going out with someone who offers to carry me around is more like it.”

He bit back a smile. “So? Another ride on my back?”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you said, taking his arm instead.

As much as he enjoyed your touch, he couldn’t do with your fingers over his jacket. He needed to feel you. When he held your hand in his, you smiled up at him.

Simon had to thank his team for painstakingly convincing the stubborn lieutenant to approach the lady he’d been staring at. You didn’t have to know there was no bet, that asking to carry you was his own idea, an outrageous excuse to talk to you. But he wouldn’t complain if he ended up helping you, taking you for a little supper and even got to send you home.

“When’s next time?” he asked at your door, squeezing your hand.

You really shouldn’t have said it, because he was going to make sure there would be one. It had become a goal to show you how you deserved to be treated on a date.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Right now isn’t even too soon.”

You laughed, pulling him down by the shoulder to meet your lips.

For @glitterypirateduck ‘s Ghost Challenge :D check out her page for fic recs!

Neighbour Ghost AU if he still had his family

Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

[syluss-littlecrow]

better than the devil

<sylus x fem!reader>

where you find out if Sylus really has horns, and why he avoids letting you touch them

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, size kink (i mean bro is PACKING), breeding kink, sylus’s horns are ✨sensitive✨, dirty talk, sexual tension, missionary, a fuck ton of horn play, horny horns, cumming untouched, orgams galore!, so much cum♡

w/c: 2.9K

a/n: gotta thank the loml @bro-atz for helping me with this a little ehehehe >:) I hope this destroyed yall as much as this destroyed me to write it!!🥹

They say he takes the form of some dragon-like creature—with large black horns and wings. 

The first time you witnessed it with your own two eyes was when he choked out a serpent wanderer ten times his size before it got to you. You were semi-conscious at that point of time, the fatigue threatening to take over, but you had caught a glimpse of his silhouette—two thick appendages that curled proudly past his dirty silver hair, and large wings that hung off his back—before you blacked out. 

“Staring at me isn’t going to get any of your curiosities satisfied”, Sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. Your gaze flickers to his face, but Sylus has his eyes on his phone. 

Then his gaze shifts to you. 

“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”

Of course, you couldn’t just tell him outright that you wanted to see him magically grow his horns out of his head. You doubt even Luke and Kieran have seen it themselves. 

“Your horns.”

Sylus lowers his phone onto his lap, then he cocks an eyebrow, which turns to a furrow in seconds. 

“What gave you the idea that I grew horns?” He asks, his tone laced with mock and caution. His attention is fully on you now. 

Yeah, maybe that was not a good question to ask. Then again, being around someone as direct as Sylus had made you pick up his mannerisms quite a fair bit. 

“Nothing really”, you brush off, attempting to derail the conversation before something goes wrong. “I’m just curious.”

“Talk”, Sylus demands, albeit in a soft tone. “I’m listening.” 

His crimson eyes burn a hole into your head, and you now only realise the way he has you cornered on his couch, his large frame looming over yours. 

You sigh, realising he’s not about to let it go anytime soon. 

“A few weeks ago, during one of the battles we had, where I almost died-“

“Get to the point, sweetie”, Sylus cuts, seeing through your guise. 

You pout. “Right. Before I blacked out, I saw you appear right in front of me, with horns.”

Sylus raises his eyebrows, seemingly in amusement. “You sure you weren’t hallucinating?”

He earns a smack on his chest. You’re ready to let him disprove you further or whatever, but your body jolts when you feel Sylus snake his arms around your waist before he carries you effortlessly off the corner of the couch and onto his lap. 

You watch his eyes grow soft when he locks his gaze with yours. His expression is unreadable.

Your eyes widen in amazement when the thick pair of horns curl past his locks, the black a stark contrast with his white hair. He looks like he’s wearing bows in a funny, demonic type of way. Not that he has to know that. 

You continue to stare at his horns, visually taking in the rough yet smooth texture and patterns that run downwards as the horns grow thicker towards the base. 

“What are you really?” You wonder aloud, your fingers reaching out to feel the interesting texture of his horns, only for him to pull away quickly.

“It’s not the right time for you to know”, he replies curtly. You notice the glint of concern in his eyes, shrouded under the indifferent expression he wears. 

So you decide to leave it for now, at least. 

Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop you from annoying the ever-loving shit out of Sylus about his horns once you found out about it.

He would stare at you with his eyebrows furrowed, muttering that he should have never told you about his horns, only for you to bat your eyelashes at him, much to his annoyance. 

“At least let me touch them if you’re not gonna tell me more about them”, you would whine. With a frown, he would push your forehead with a finger, giving you his standard answer.

"No."

“Then could you at least tell me why you won’t let me touch your horns?”

He would rest his thumb and index finger on his chin, feigning a thinking stance before his expression drops deadpan and then the curt answer leaves his lips.

“No.”

You’re putting this right next to when you were fighting for your life to get that fucking brooch months ago. 

While the thought continues to eat into your curiosity, you mostly let Sylus off the hook after a while. For some reason, you’ve been noticing that Sylus has been walking around his mansion with his horns freely out. Maybe because he’s shown you his full horns once that’s why?

Or he’s just straight-up taunting you. 

You feign nonchalance, only stealing glances at the thick appendage that stood out against his pale locks from time to time, but never really bringing it up to him, for now at least.

You hear the raindrops patter against the large windows of Sylus's room one afternoon. At least the heavy clouds are hiding the sun on top of the dark curtains drawn, and it makes Sylus's rest a little more comfortable. 

He's sound asleep beside you on his bed, but you're seated up on your phone, the sound of the rain also slowly luring you to grow sleepy. You stretch a little, careful not to wake the male beside you. Sylus grunts softly, and you feel his hair tickle your thighs.

Through your peripherals, something catches your attention. The black on white is undoubtedly hard to miss.

Now that Sylus seems dead asleep, you're considering taking a chance to take a closer look at his horns, and maybe even touch them. 

Carefully, you shift your weight closer to Sylus, monitoring his expressions and movements. When the coast is clear, you lean closer, staring at his horns with much amazement. It's a lot different now that you're this up close to admire them. 

His horns aren't simply a simple shade of jet black–at different angles, you notice how the scales of his horns shimmer like an oil spill under the soft light. Close up, the base of his horns are thick, and as it extends, it curls, almost fully wrapping around his head. 

“So pretty”, you mutter to yourself. Your fingers are reached out as if by instinct, barely inches away from touching his pretty crown. 

You pause, weighing the risks of attempting to touch his horns. How fucked would you be if you actually did? 

Your eyes scan Sylus’s calm sleeping face. He doesn't seem to have even noticed his horns have grown out. 

“It’s just a little touch, he won't feel it anyways”, you convince yourself softly, your resolve firming as your curiosity begins to bubble over your rationale.

You let your fingers brush his horn, feeling the cold and scaly texture beneath your fingertips. Your eyes are sparkling in amazement even more, now that your curiosity has been satisfied. You press your fingertips onto the appendage, enjoying how nice and cool it feels to the touch.

Just then, you hear Sylus groan slightly. Your hand immediately retracts before you fully freeze, watching the way he presses his head against your leg, his eyebrows slightly scrunched before it returns back to relaxed. 

Close call. 

You obviously don’t learn your lesson, because your fingers are on his horns almost immediately once more. You grow more curious about the feeling of running your palm across his horns this round. 

So you do.

Your hand starts from the thick base, and you stroke it, following the horn's curl, enjoying the way the texture of the scales run smooth under your palm.

And then Sylus makes a sound beneath you. You squint in curiosity, wondering if you heard it right.

So you run your hand from his tip to the base this time. 

And this time, Sylus lets out another moan. You definitely did not hear wrong. 

Your cheeks are slowly flushing when you realise what you're doing to him. But for some reason, it makes you want to do it more.

So this is why he doesn't want you touching his horns? 

With a cheeky smile, you run your fingers along his horns in various ways and places, eliciting more pretty and erotic reactions from Sylus. 

You giggle to yourself, trying to ignore how he's making you aroused with all the noises he's making with every stroke you give his horns. 

You want to go for the next round, wondering how far you can take this.

Obviously not very far, because the next time you do, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist before you're about to touch his horns again.

He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, pink dusted on his cheeks and his breathing shallow.

“Are you having fun, kitten?” He asks with a frown.

Fuck.

You feign a smile, trying to wave your hand from his grip, of course, your attempts futile. 

Sylus’s other arm curls around your thighs, locking you from leaving the bed while Sylus lets his sleep leave his body from the rude interruption. 

“Denying me of satisfying my curiosity only makes it worse”, you shrug. Well, if only Sylus had just let you have a little touch…

The corner of Sylus’s lips pull up to a half smirk. 

“Right”, Sylus replies, a hint of annoyance and something else laced in his tone before he shifts above you in one swift motion, trapping you underneath him on his bed. 

“Then, I'm sure you don't have to be reminded that actions have consequences?”

You swallow hard. 

His hand that grabbed yours is placed on his chest, and he forces you to trail down his body, feeling his thick chest, then his abs under your touch, all the way down until he stops you right on his thick erection.

“You should take responsibility, don't you think?” Sylus asks with a raised eyebrow. 

You know it's pointless even attempt to escape when he’s devouring your lips like he hasn't eaten in days. It's so intoxicating. You would never admit your greed, but Sylus knows you well enough to feed you so good. You want to pull him so impossibly close.

In between breathless kisses, your warm hands trail from his biceps to his shoulders, to his neck, and right to his hair.

You test waters–letting your fingers rake through his hair, grazing the base of his horns. You get his green light when he doesn't swat you off, on the contrary, it makes Sylus grow more desperate in the kiss.

You confidently stroke his horn, from base to tip once more, and the moans that leave Sylus’s lips sound like fucking heaven. 

His crimson eyes finally meet yours, and he almost looks like he's in pain. 

“If you keep doing that–ngh–” Sylus trails off with another strained moan when the sensation of you stroking his horn buzzes right to his cock that he has shut his eyes to hold back. 

“This?” you tease, sliding your palm down to his base once more, rubbing the scaly appendage, watching him failing at trying to keep his composure. 

“Fuck”, he hisses, diving into your lips once more, eating you up. 

He pulls away briefly, pressing his lips just below your ear.

“You’re gonna be taking responsibility, kitten.”

He presses himself close onto you, so close that you feel his cock just pulsing against your pelvis, only separated by his black sweats. Sylus takes your chin in his fingers and steals your breath away once more, uncontrollably grunting with every stroke your hands play with his horns. You feel his cock twitch, then pulse before the feeling of warmth spreads across your skin, accompanied by a long, drawn out moan in your mouth.

It makes you dizzy with bliss, realising what you've done to him. 

Sylus pulls away once more, catching his breath, his eyes reflecting something more feral when you met his. 

But all you do is flash a cheeky smile at him, letting your fingers caress his cheek. 

His fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and he yanks them off, almost growing feral for the second time when his eyes meet the sight of the way your pussy is glistening so much that a wet and thin string of arousal sticks itself in between your pussy and your soaked panties. 

Well, Sylus is holding the short end of the stick anyway, because when he tugs his sweats down, your heartbeat accelerates as your eyes land on his cock–thick, red and completely covered in white and thick cum, some staining his underwear, twitching slightly with dribbles of cum seeping past his cockhead when the fabric brushes past his balls. 

He looks so fucking delicious when he's messy like that. Shit.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, staring at me like that”, he teases. He doesn't even look embarrassed.

“Maybe I should play with your horns more often”, you reply with a smile. Sylus narrows his eyes at you, his expression mixed with annoyance and affection. His fingers press against your soaking clit, enjoying the way the smile on your face gets wiped, replaced with a contorted expression of pleasure when he rubs it in slow circles. 

“I’m strongly against that idea, sweetie”, Sylus responds, leaning in to take in the expression of your mind slowly growing dumb and blank just from his slender fingers rubbing you out. “It’ll give you a little too much leverage over me.”

Through the hazy and building pleasure, you still manage to reply, “that's the whole point.”

Sylus only smiles at your reply, his fingers leaving your clit. You're about to protest, that is, until he grabs you by your hips, dragging you closer to him, then pressing your knees to your chest, before his wet cock slowly enters you from below. He watches your face contort in pleasure–your eyes rolling back and your eyebrows furrowed–while soaking in the fucking delicious feeling of your cunt warm and wrapped around his cock. 

“S-so good”, you whimper, his fullness knocking out any ounce of breath and sense out of you at a dangerous pace the his cock inches even deeper into you.

“Such a nice and warm pussy hole”, Sylus grits, pushing himself even deeper, his control slipping when he's buried himself all the way in. “Fuck, you're so good for me, kitten.”

You're clawing his pillows when Sylus starts fucking you, and you're looking at Sylus with such a glazed out expression–and you know it drives him fucking crazy. His palm rests on the bulge that his cock is pushing every time he enters you, and it makes your thighs shake. Your moans grow in pitch and tone on top of the sounds of lewd wet skin slapping. 

He lets you wrap your legs around his waist in return for letting him scatter love bites across your neck.

So you decide that it’s the perfect time to aim for his sensitive spots once more.

Your fingers tug against his scalp, then alternating to stroking his horns once more, throwing Sylus into another round of pleasured daze. 

You feel his cock fill you up even more, and it makes you greedy to how far you can push it.

“I really should make you regret this”, Sylus mutters, failing to suppress another groan when your fingers scratch against the base. 

His thrusts become more like ruts, his cockhead hitting your g-spot over and over as payback. Sylus sprouts a satisfied smirk as he watches you completely come undone on his cock. You throw your head back while stars flicker in and out of your vision. The pleasure is growing so fucking good that you're choking on your moans too. 

“Right there! Fuck, that feels so fucking good, Sylus”, you sob through wet lashes and heavy pants. 

Sylus is mesmerised by your pretty expressions and the pretty sounds you always make for him when he's breaking you apart. 

Maybe you finding out about his sensitive horns is his punishment for indulging in these sick pleasures. Nonetheless, he still wouldn't have any other way.

Your hands find his horns once more, and he falters for a split second. But he doesn't shake you off since he's much too focused on trying to force an orgasm out of you.

Your pussy squeezes him before it starts uncontrollably fluttering against his cock. Ah, his goal is slowly being fulfilled.

As your orgasm dangles above you, you react with periodical squeezes on his cock and his horns, which definitely draws a much larger reaction from Sylus. 

“So close”, you whine, your orgasm slowly filling the crevices of your brain, plunging you deep into pleasure. Your cunt clenches on his cock, and you unintentionally yank his horns.

Sylus fucking growls, pressing himself so fucking deep into you, his cum fucking spurting into you–so much that some is leaking out from your plugged pussy hole and onto the bed. 

He pulls his cock out momentarily, letting his cum ooze from his cockhead, his eyes darting to the loads seeping out of your hole, before he slides his cock into you once more. You gasp at the fullness, another squeeze to his horns, which only stimulates Sylus once more, and his cock fills you up with another warm and sticky load. 

He’s panting, but he musters his energy to meet your eyes. 

“Sweetie”, he calls out to you amidst his dick attempting to take over his brain. “If you don't get your hands off, your pussy won't be able to hold anymore, I guarantee.”

He's met with a fucked-out and sly grin from his partner. 

“And I thought you enjoyed challenges.”

Sylus scoffs at your comment, realising that he really has to teach his kitten a lesson to not touch things that aren't hers.

[emphistic]

What is Love?

Picking Yuuji up from school was not a rare occurrence. On the other hand, picking Yuuji up from school while accompanied by Sukuna was a rare occurrence.

Kids are flocking to you like birds, asking if you were Yuuji's mom, and who that creepy man next to you was — this all reminded said creepy man about why this was a rare occurrence, and how it should stay one.

The final straw for Sukuna snaps when a little boy, probably around Yuuji's age, approaches you with his hands behind his back. "Hi, you are very pretty. Can I be your boyfriend?"

You looked a bit taken aback, before remembering this was a kid talking to you, and kids could be quite . . . odd. "Um, thank you! You are very sweet, but, I already have a boyfriend."

Sukuna smirks to himself, a smug expression painted on his face.

"That's okay. I have two girlfriends; you can have two boyfriends," the kid giggled. "He doesn't have to know."

At this, Sukuna glares at the little boy, fully prepared and ready to beat him up, but he halted, as you placed a coaxing hand on his arm.

"Umm—"

"Here!" The boy shoved a daffodil into your hands, it was covered in dirt and had a few missing pedals.

"Oh! This is—"

"I picked it up from over there," he pointed a little finger across the school. "It's pretty. And you're pretty. So it's for you! Hehe, pretty flower for pretty lady."

Just then, Yuuji came running out of the school's doors — backpack aggressively shaking and threatening to fall off of his little arms — and into your arms, well . . . legs actually. But he demanded to be in your arms.

"Up! Up!"

"Okay, Yuuji." You hoisted him up and he immediately went to bury his face into your neck, calming down from his hyper-ness when he breathed in your perfume.

"How was school, baby?"

"It was so fun! I missed you though." You felt Yuuji frown in your neck.

"Aww, well I'm here now. Let's go home, kay? Then we can make up for the time you missed me, how about that?" You rubbed Yuuji's back.

"Okay!"

Unfortunately for the other boy that was still staring up at you — and now Yuuji, too — he was long forgotten by you. Your full attention now on Yuuji.

When the pink-haired kid is finally in the car, after wrestling to not be strapped down by the seatbelt, he immediately goes to working on an assignment. Strange, you thought, looking back at him through the rear-view mirror. Yuuji hates homework.

This continues when you three get back to the apartment. Yuuji immediately slips off his shoes and takes off to his bedroom, assignment and pencil pouch in hand.

You turn to looked at Sukuna, "I thought he wanted to play first?"

Sukuna shrugged, not knowing what his brother was up to, "He's a weirdo, you know that."

You frowned, "I'm bored."

"I know a way to pass the time."

An hour later, you exit your shared bedroom — planning to start on dinner — just to find notes and drawings all over the apartment. On the floor, in the potted plants, on the coffee table, shoved in crevices on the couch, everywhere.

Picking up a few piece of paper, you find yourself reading:

"Deer Y/N,

You are so nise to me.

You are very good at macking food.

I love you!"

"You are so amazing!"

"I love you so mutch!"

"Y/N is good and nise and prety."

Some drawings even depicted you and Yuuji holding hands.

While eating dinner, you decided to question a very smiley and giggling Yuuji, to find out that he had an assignment to show his appreciation to someone he loved.

Most of the notes were only directed to you, but some of the drawings had Sukuna too. The rest of the evening, Yuuji spent telling you and Sukuna how much he loved you guys. Quietly, and going unnoticed by Yuuji and you, Sukuna reciprocated his brother's affection.

A/N: loosely based on this ask — this was supposed to be wayyyy shorter, but i got a bit carried away

Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @lich1 @hannas16 @acroso

[luveline]

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter." 

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor. 

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare. 

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you." 

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal. 

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur. 

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase. 

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak. 

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to." 

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost." 

"You're Peter?" you ask. 

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–" 

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask. 

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?" 

"Not so, you know. Daunted." 

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye. 

"Oh, you think so?" 

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap. 

"Let's get you to the car, baby." 

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up. 

"Home." 

"Together?" 

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy." 

"Thank you," you say shyly. 

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again? 

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?" 

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly. 

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty." 

"You're my boyfriend?" 

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–" 

"You want to get married? To me?" 

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–" 

"We did?" 

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it." 

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me." 

"I love you," you say quietly. 

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession. 

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?" 

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober. 

Which reminds him. 

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat. 

"What is it?" you ask. 

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!" 

[anarchonist]

Really good politics *a little kiss on your forehead*

Awww, thank you! What a nice thing to say!

By the way, sorry to all who have sent me asks throughout the years and to whom I've failed to reply for some reason. I will try to do better in the future. Love you guys!

[shotmrmiller]

sugar daddy!simon would go so hard cuz he'd need no sugar but lets his hand linger on the small of your back when standing at the register with his wallet out or grab your foot to massage beneath the table at the upper scale restaurant yall are dining at.

he doesn't push (surprisingly but hey it works for you!) you give him whatever you want, be it just your hand to hold or a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks after carrying all the stuff he bought to your room. he spoils you rotten regardless but then the issue comes when you actually want him to touch you.

simon doesn't touch. not when you model the little slips of clothing he so generously gifted you from that one overpriced shop at the mall. not when you wear his favorite skirt, the one that got him to talk to you in the first place on the sugar daddy website. not when you invite him in for a nightcap, letting your bare legs rest on top of his while watching a movie.

he. doesn't. touch.

simon doesn't touch you even when you want him to.

keeps his right hand curled around the glass he's nursing and the other laying on the backrest of the couch when you tell him if he wants to peel off the undergarments he'd just bought you today. (a shot you don't shoot is a shot missed anyway.)

"'s not necessary," he says. "got 'em for you to wear." he hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

that'd sting more if you hadn't caught him discreetly palming himself outside his trousers while you'd modeled these too.

"might not be necessary but it's what i want." that gets his attention, an arrogant curl on his lip making your heart flutter in your chest.

he gives your knee a squeeze. "i've always given you everythin' you've ever wanted but this is the one thing you're gonna 'ave to work for."

work for? simon doesn't wait for you to ask what he means.

"only way i'm touchin' ya is if ya beg," he rumbles.

should've known it was too good to be true. but you've got an ache between your legs that won't go away no matter how many times you've used the rose (also another gift.) guess you'll just have to "beg".

/

your definition of begging and his are not even in the same dimension. he had shot you down when you'd said please. when you'd batted your pretty eyes at him while saying please. when you'd gotten on your knees between his legs and said please with your hands flat on the carpet.-

simon had only tapped you on the nose and said, "'s good, but not good enough."

what had been good enough was you riding his thigh until sweat slicked your skin, until your lip trembled with need, until his trousers looked like he'd spilled his drink on it while you mewled out your please's.

only then had wiped the corner of your eyes with his thumb and whispered tiny words of praise into your ear, his breath warm against it.

"wasn't so hard, was it, pet?" you'd been beyond reason at that point, core burning almost painfully hot with desire, so you'd jerkily shaken your head. anything to finally get him to touch you like how you need.

his long fingers splayed out across the back of your head, palm almost engulfing your entire head. "now tell me where you want me to touch."

he touches with clever fingers, his warm tongue, even uses his crooked nose to rub at your pearl while his thumb, spit slick, presses into the girl of your arse. having him fuck you is a whole different beast you have to tackle. if you plead for something, anything, he'll rut his cock between your thighs and come over your sticky pussy :)

[bi-writes]

i'm a big fan of your writing! can i ask what made simon want to mail order a bride in the first place? thanks <3

mail-order bride

he's tired of staring across his dinner table and seeing nothing but empty space.

it isn't something he had thought about in the before. he's spent a long time shifting between different cots, collecting sand from faraway places and counting the bodies he dropped with tally marks against his boots.

there's a picture he keeps tucked into his vest, but he won't take it out. it sits heavy there, an invisible wall between himself and the outside world, a reality that he chooses not to believe. if he doesn't look at them, he won't think of them, and if he doesn't think of them, maybe he can pretend they were never even real.

they all have something outside of here. his sergeants are too pretty and too outgoing to stick around; they're social butterflies, and simon has seen the shuffle of pictures of some pretty girl that gaz can't stop staring at, and soap never shuts up--whenever they have a signal, he's somehow got a phone call with his cousin's stepfather's little sister, or it's his second cousin's brother-in-law's birthday, and he's got to wish him well since he missed his art exhibition last month.

even price has a pale circular shadow that is stained onto his ring finger.

it's not his fault, is it? it's not his fault he was dealt the worst fucking hand. it wasn't his fault he was born already two feet into the grave; it couldn't have been his fault that he can only get a good night's sleep when there's screaming in one ear or the rattle of a battlefield over his head.

it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault. it isn't his fault.

the cigarettes taste bland today. they're old, stale, and he can taste the bitterness already, but he lights it anyways, flicking ash into the ground, scrunching his nose until he gets used to the bite of it.

there's a shadow at his side, and he turns to snap at them, assuming it's johnny and his incessant nagging, but he holds his tongue when he realizes it's his captain.

he's got a warm cigar in one hand, and he leans against the concrete wall beside him, sighing deep, the kind of pensive weight that only a captain can bear.

price looks tired. he needs to go home.

"boys invited y'out, didn't they?" price asks, and simon chuckles lowly.

"'m olready 'ome," simon murmurs. "'n i can get piss drunk oll on my own 'ere."

price shrugs.

"ya haven't taken leave since you joined my team, simon," he says low. "can't have that. you know it."

simon shrugs.

"can try and make me go," simon tells him. "but y'know i won't leave."

"i'm not asking, simon," price says firmly. "'m telling."

"doesn't matter," simon takes a long drag of the cigarette, holding it in for a second too long before letting it out slow. "got nowhere ta go."

his captain is not blind. simon's on a one-way road, and the end of it stops at the end of someone else's gun. men like simon, the ones who have nothing to lose, they're dangerous. they clear rooms outnumbered thirty to one because no one thinks they can. they hit targets from thousands of yards away because it's the only place that never changes. they kill and sleep peacefully because the blood of a stranger is far cleaner than that of someone they know, of someone they love.

they'll never leave because war is familiar. they don't want to go home because home isn't something they know. they're nomads, taking with them only what they can carry, because the rest is baggage and an emotional weight that they aren't strong enough to carry.

but it doesn't mean men like simon don't want. it doesn't mean they don't wish for more. it doesn't mean they don't think about using their teeth for something other than baring them to show their dominance, their aggression, their insecurity.

simon's a protector. the way he shoves his men behind him says so. the steadiness of his voice over comms when the op goes to shit. the ease of his hand when he ties a tourniquet. the split second that simon never wastes, the way he uses his body as armor and the look he gives his men when they're scared. simon's died twice before, and the look in his eyes tells them that this isn't it, that this isn't death, because he'd fucking know--he'd recognize it if he saw it.

simon's unrelenting. his past, his trauma, it's tried to beat him into a shape that will bend and snap, but its obvious simon is not made of lead--fuck, he's an entire block of unmovable steel. he does not give when compressed, he does not crack when the strength of him is tested. simon's fought too hard to live to let a gun terrify him, he's endured too much torture to flinch when someone sinks a blade into his chest.

but he knows, simon knows, that there is something missing. he fought hard to live, but for what? he's endured, but what the fuck is there when he lays his head down at night?

simon's a lover. he tries so hard to convince himself that he's always been this way--alone, drifting, lost, but it's a lie. simon knows what it's like to want. he knows what it's like to look into a crowd and hope you see a familiar face. he understands wanting to pull that string taut, but he also understands what it can do to you. what it can take from you.

he understands what you can never get back.

he thinks this is a bad idea. he crumples the note paper in his hand that had the address scribbled onto it, tearing it, staring up at the house in front of him. it's quaint, a lovely little house in the outskirts of london, with a red chimney and overturned planters in the yard. there's a weathered wooden door, a porch step that needs fixing, and when he kicks open the door, he grimaces seeing a carpet that need's replacing.

"the fuck am i doin' 'ere?" he whispers to himself, sliding his mask off, running a hand over his face. his heart is pounding, but he's not sure why, but he catches his reflection in the window. what looks back at him terrifies him--he can't do this.

he makes his way back outside, rummaging through his pockets for a cigarette. he takes a seat on the steps, lighting it, and as he takes his first frantic drag, he sees the torn pages of the note still on the ground. he picks up one end of it, running his thumb over the crumpled paper there, smudging the pencil scribble there.

she needs you

it's written in price's ugly handwriting, letters all tilted to the side and barely legible, but he still can read what price didn't write--and you need her.

but simon doesn't need anyone. he barely needs himself, barely can take care of himself. this won't help him--he can't help anyone, he isn't the kind that can be this kind of thing for anyone. he's stayed in the service because at least this way, he can die with honor, he can prove them all wrong, he can at least be remembered for what he could do and not by what was done to him.

his touch is ice. his heart is buried too deep under his ribs; no one has seen it since he could finally register a memory. his face, the skin he wears--he's not a pretty man, he's a forgettable one. he isn't gentle, he isn't capable of it. he can't forgive. he's so quick to anger, likes to snap his teeth, and he cannot be the kind of thing that they all expect him to be.

he does not love himself. he will not love himself. so he cannot love another.

there is a certain kind of satisfaction he feels when he fixes the porch step. once abandoned, once a nuisance, and now it functions as intended. he feels the same kind of thing when he rips up the stained carpet, and he feels it again when he watches the seeds of the thyme leaves grow as they rest in a pot above the sink.

things once forgotten serve a purpose. with effort, they can be used again. they don't have to be replaced, they can be open anew, they can live again and breathe deeper and see through the lens of a different perspective.

when you climb the porch steps the first time, he thinks about the board that doesn't wobble any longer. when the door shuts behind you for the first time and you take off your boots, he thinks about the new carpet that warms your toes now.

and when you lay next to him for the first time, under the covers of the bed he's made, he reaches over and slips a few fingers around your wrist, thumbing at the base of it and swallowing hard when he feels the pulse of your heartbeat. it beats, warm and steady, to a beat familiar, one he knows. his heart has not been hiding under thick bone and the tar of his own blood.

it's here now. under your skin. and now it's home.

[faithshouseofchaos]

Franco Colapinto x reader. She's a F1 fan and meets him at the club after a race. She has nothing for him to sign so he signs her 🍒????

“You want me too sign what?” — Franco Colapinto x fem!reader

Slightly suggestive

Word count 1.1k

Tagged— @crispysoup318 @meeel-things @bieberismysoulmate @dejavuontrack @barcelonaloverf1life @nominsgirl @bluebluesol @chenlesbitxh

The club was packed with people looking for a good time. It was dark, except for the flickering strobe lights, and it smelled like a mix of alcohol, sweat, and various perfumes and colognes. It was a Sunday night after the Monza Grand Prix, which Ferrari won, so everyone, yourself included, was on cloud nine.

Dressed in a short blue sparkly dress that left little to the imagination you smiled as you squeezed in between all the bodies on the dance floor trying to make it back to your friends who were sitting at the back of the club talking. You made it through the sea of people, bumping into at least four random guys and getting your hair pulled by a girl who had a few too many drinks.

It was dark and you couldn’t see anything so you felt pretty bad when you bumped into someone. Franco winced as a figure suddenly slammed into him, causing his drink to spill on his shirt. He turned to see a girl in a blue sparkling dress, clearly a little tipsy. He was about to say something when he got distracted by the sight of her cleavage. It was hard to look away.

He cleared his throat and looked up at her face. "Sorry, I... you okay?"

The girl chuckled and swayed a bit. "Oops, sorry about that. I'm fine, I was just trying to get back to my friends over there," she said, gesturing to a group of people on the other side of the room.

Franco took a moment to appreciate her smile and the way the dress clung to her curves. He couldn't help but feel intrigued by her carefree attitude.

“No way You're Franco Colapinto I’m a big fan. You had one hell of a drive today, especially driving that shit box of a car” you said, recognizing the new F1 driver in front of you.

Franco's eyebrows raised in surprise. He was used to being recognized in public, but the fan usually just asked for his autograph and moved on. But there was something about the directness and excitement in her voice that he found refreshing.

"Yeah, definitely not the car I was hoping for this year," he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "But we do what we can with what we've got, right? And thanks for the support, it means a lot."

You couldn’t believe your luck running into an F1 driver, and not just any driver, but the cute new Argentinian rookie with a passion for driving. You could feel the alcohol coursing through your veins and it made you bolder.

Swaying slightly, you looked up into his eyes and asked, "Can I ask you a question?"

Franco looked down at the girl in the sparkling red dress standing in front of him. He liked her energy and the way she seemed to carry herself with confidence and excitement. It was refreshing compared to the usual fans he encountered.

As she asked her question, Franco took a moment to look her up and down, appreciating the way her dress clung to her curves. He could tell she had a bit to drink by the way she was swaying, but it only made her more attractive to him.

"Sure, go ahead," Franco said, leaning in closer to hear her over the loud music.

“Can you sign something for me?” You asked loudly over the music. Franco chuckled at the simplicity of the request. He was used to fans asking for autographs, but the way this girl asked somehow made it feel more intimate.

"Sure, I can sign something for you," he replied, still leaning in close to hear her. "But, ah, where do you want me to sign? I don't see any paper or anything on you."

“Can you sign my breast?” You asked rather boldly. Franco's eyes widened in surprise. That was not the question he was expecting, but he was certainly not opposed to the idea.

He looked down at her cleavage, which was on full display in the tight red dress, and then back up at her face. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You want me to sign your breast, huh?" he said, his voice dropping an octave lower. "Is that a serious request?"

Franco couldn't help but be impressed by her boldness. She was clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol, but the way she was looking at him made it clear that she was also attracted to him.

He glanced back down at her chest, then back up to her face. "You know what, why not?" he said, his tone playful. "It'll be a first for me, but I don't mind making an exception for a beautiful fan."

Franco reached out and placed a hand on her hip, guiding her further into the darkness of the club. He led her over to a secluded corner, away from the crowd of people dancing and talking. As they walked, he appreciated the feel of her warm body against his hand.

Once they were in the corner, he leaned back against the wall and gestured for her to come closer. "Come here," he said, his voice low and commanding.

Franco waited as she stepped closer to him, closing the distance between them. He could smell her perfume, a mix of sweet and spicy notes that suited her. She was even more beautiful up close, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"I need a pen," he said, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out a sharpie. "And I need somewhere to write..."

He placed the tip of the pen just above the neckline of her dress, right above her cleavage. They were so close now, their bodies nearly touching. "This okay?" he asked, looking up at her face.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart was racing, and she felt a rush of excitement and anticipation coursing through her body.

Franco leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he started to write his name across her chest. He took his time, making sure each letter was neat and legible. His breath was warm on her skin as he worked, the tip of the pen tracing the curves of her body. His hand brushed against her skin with each stroke, making her shiver and sending jolts of electricity through her veins.

When he was done, he pulled back and looked down at his handiwork, a satisfied smirk on his face. "There you go," he said, capping the pen and slipping it back into his pocket. "That's a one-of-a-kind autograph right there."

He looked back up into her eyes, a mischievous gleam in his own. "You know, I'm not even sure I caught your name," he said, placing a hand on her hip again, pulling her a little closer.

She tried to gather her thoughts, but the alcohol and the way he was touching her was making it hard to concentrate.

"It's, um," she said, her voice shaking. "It's Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, rolling the sound over his tongue. "I like that. It's pretty, just like you."