#the balloons were filled with glitter

[unovan-gardener]

Once my roommates filled a kiddie pool in our third floor dorm room while I was in class.

yeah that sounds about right...

[sheloveschai]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ no longer a jinx

alternate universe! powder x fem! reader

nothing but pure unadulterated fluff slight arcane act III spoilers

act III of arcane made me sick to my stomach arcane writers when i catch you..

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

music bumped loudly against the walls of the building. dancing bodies- lovers, friends, and strangers alike- intertwined with one another as laughter and cheers filled the air. a song, though in another language, communicates its truth of two lovers. despite the hardships of the lives they were given and toxicity within themselves, they cannot be separated.

a lover herself, you, roam the dance floor- a drink clasped tightly between clammy hands as you search for something throughout the crowd- for someone. beginning to gnaw at your lower lip as you pause amongst the partygoers; you stretch your neck to try to get a look over the zaunites.

it is nothing more than a sea of your fellow people adorned in their best suits and dresses- a continuous wave of colors, bright smiles, and shared joy. when balloons suddenly erupt from the open work ceiling above with the push of a lever, cheers boom from the crowd as the people are rained on by an array of colored confetti.

though, no shade of the floating pieces of paper quite compared to the vivid, glistening, baby blue eyes of a girl finally making her approach through the crowd.

it’s as though time itself had somehow slowed down and the existence of others fade out as she came closer. the metallic workings of her boots reflects the colors of the fallen confetti now laid to waste on the floor; her cream colored dress that is trimmed with the most delicate, intricate pattern of lace intertwines between her knobby knees as she walks- it contradicts the worn, but well-loved black leather of her cropped jacket.

but her eyes, adorned with the colorful workings of carefully placed, glittering eyeshadow, practically gleamed in jubilation as she comes to a stop in front of your skittish form.

“thought i’d never find you, space girl” the zaunite, powder, teases. she takes a quick glance at the cup between your hands before swiping it out of your grasp. ignoring your protested ‘hey!’ she downs the rest of what was in the cup and sets it on the counter behind you as her face grimaces.

you practically watch in disbelief as she straightens back out in front of you- wiping the back of her hand on her mouth. “eugh! i do not know how you can drink that stuff” she says, smacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as if to rid it of the flavor.

you let out a huff of laughter and shake your head. “sorry that not all of us want our drinks to just be maraschino cherries” you taunt, as your eyes roam her outfit- a giddy smile gracing your face at a familiar article of clothing. “don’t i know that dress from somewhere?”

the blue-haired girl smiles almost sickeningly sweet as she twists her torso causing the dress to flow gracefully side-to-side. “i may have had to take a detour through your closet” she says with a tilt to her voice, not a true feeling of guilt found anywhere in her body. “can i make it up to you with a dance?”

you’re given no time to respond as she pulls your fiddling hands apart and drags you out to the middle of the dance floor. music still thumps throughout the building and powder takes a few steps back, leaving an empty space between the two of you.

she takes initiative and lets the music control her body. she spins and floats around the floor- twirling like the confetti pieces around her. you watch in awe as she closes her eyes and feels the beat, and almost hypnotized by her movements, you let your body be dragged alongside her.

giggles bubble out of the both your chests as powder grabs one of your hands and twirls herself around with it- her hair bounding around her face. you twist and spin around one another with smiles so big it feels as though your faces may split. she snatches you by the waist and a hand, and spins you around with her- her eyes softening as she watches intently as your head fall back with a laugh.

her dress brushes between your calves as she twirls once more before pushing her back to your chest; both of your hands intertwined with hers as she pulls them to rest above her fast beating heart; gentle thumbs brushing over your knuckles. your laughter begins to dissipate as a wave of surrealness overswepts you two- allowing you to float amongst the riptide surrounding.

powder rests the back of her head on your shoulder and tilts her gaze to look longingly at your face. the look of love as vander like to say. ‘it’s the same way your mother looked at your old man’ he would explain after catching her staring at you doing even the most minut of tasks.

“you know; you’re starting to freak me out with the starin-”

“i love you” she interrupts, her gaze unwavering. “i just- i just thought i should remind you” she explains impassively watching as you finally look at her. a gentle grin spreads across your face; the kind where the apples of your cheeks push up against your lower lids and the points of your canines just barely peaking through- powder’s favorite kind of smile on you.

“i know” you whisper, almost scared to break the quiet moment. “how could i ever forget?”

“and so you better not” she quickly retorts before she pulls away from you, but rather than fully leaving your embrace, she turns around to face you and laces her arms behind your head.

your arms immediately loop around her waist and your bodies are once more pressed against one another. heartbeats becoming one, bodies merging into one another; this is undoubtedly the feeling of fate. of two souls who were meant to find one another. and powder, she too must’ve felt the same with the way she was looking at you. as if you were the one who so gratefully hung the stars and moon themselves. as if you were the one who traveled through the galaxy just to get to her.

you didn’t need any other confirmation of this when she has so sweetly brought a hand up to cradle the side of your face, thumb dragging over a smear of glitter under your eye.

your fingertips drag up her spine over the dress until they disappear under her jacket. it’s a slow intimate move and that’s all she needs before she’s pulling you in, and pressing your parted lips to hers.

an exhale of pleasure, or be it relief, escapes your nose as the two of you practically melt into one another’s embrace- breathing in each others air.

it’s a constant push and pull- tide against the shore as your lips dance across one another. not a battle of dominance of who can overpower the other, but a confession; a whisper of affection between two lovers.

a thank you to the universe for bringing them together- at least in this timeline.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . .₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

i’ve never written before and if that’s obvious do not tell me or i will cry 😋

[dissapointu]

Arcane characters spending Valentine’s Day with their s/o

Jinx

Valentine’s Day with Jinx was never going to be typical. She’d been planning for weeks, bouncing off walls with excitement. When you walked into the room, you were greeted with a chaotic mess of glitter, balloons, and something suspiciously resembling confetti.

“Surprise!” Jinx yelled, her grin wide as she threw a handful of glitter at you. “It’s your day, and I’m gonna make it the best one ever!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing that even with the mess, Jinx was doing her best to make you happy. She pulled you into a hug and kissed you on the cheek, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s, you beautiful mess.”

Vi

Vi wasn’t the romantic type in the traditional sense, but Valentine’s Day with her was filled with meaningful little gestures. She took you out for a casual but perfect breakfast at a local café, laughing over pancakes and hot cocoa.

Afterward, she pulled you into a nearby park, her arm draped casually around your shoulders. You were in her world now—no one else mattered. When she caught your eye, her lips curled into a grin, and she kissed your forehead.

“I’m not good at this whole lovey-dovey thing, but I’ll always show you I care, even if I’m not great with words,” she said softly.

Sevika

Sevika didn’t understand the fuss over Valentine’s Day, but she’d been working on a small surprise for you. She led you into a quiet room after a long day, where there were candles lit and your favorite food was waiting on the table.

She was quieter than usual, but her eyes spoke volumes. As she sat beside you and served you a plate, she leaned in close and whispered, “I don’t do all that fancy stuff, but this? This is my way of saying… I care about you, more than you know.”

You smiled softly, taking her hand, and she didn’t need to say anything more. Her actions said it all.

Silco

Silco wasn’t one for big romantic gestures, but on Valentine’s Day, he did something different. He set up a private dinner for the two of you in a luxurious corner of the room, complete with fine wine and his usual sharp gaze softened by the warmth in his eyes.

“Tonight is about you,” he said, his voice hushed as he poured you another glass of wine. “You’ve proven time and time again how valuable you are to me. I wanted tonight to reflect that.”

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. “I’m grateful, Silco. This means more than you know.”

And as the evening passed, it felt like the world had slowed down, leaving only the two of you.

Vander

Vander’s Valentine’s Day gift to you was simple, but thoughtful. He took you to a quiet spot along the river, away from the usual hustle of the city, where you could enjoy each other’s company without interruption. The sun had just set, and the soft glow from the lanterns cast a warm light over everything.

“You make every day worth living,” he murmured, holding your hand tightly as you gazed at the water. “But tonight, I want to make sure you feel special.”

Vander didn’t need grand gestures to make you feel loved—his heart was more than enough. As he kissed your forehead, you knew you were his forever.

Ekko

Ekko always thought Valentine’s Day was overrated, but when it came to you, he made it something special. He’d spent hours tinkering in his workshop, only to reveal a custom watch he had made just for you—a blend of his tech expertise and affection.

“You’re the most important thing in my life,” he said as he carefully fastened the watch around your wrist. “And I want you to always have something that reminds you of me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling. “It’s perfect, Ekko. Thank you.”

The rest of the day was spent doing things you both enjoyed—movies, games, and quiet moments—reminding you that love didn’t need to be flashy to feel real.

Jayce

Jayce had gone all out for Valentine’s Day, turning the whole evening into a sophisticated experience. He’d arranged a private dinner in one of the most luxurious spots in Piltover, complete with a view of the city skyline. The table was decorated with candles, and soft music played in the background.

“I wanted tonight to be perfect for you,” he said with a tender smile as he poured you a glass of wine. “Because you are perfect to me.”

You could see the sincerity in his eyes as he spoke, and you felt warmth fill your chest. “This is more than perfect, Jayce. I’m so lucky.”

He kissed your hand gently. “The luck is mine.”

Victor

Victor wasn’t the type to do something extravagant, but his gesture on Valentine’s Day meant more than anything. He invited you to his workshop, where he had set up a simple, intimate dinner for two, surrounded by the quiet hum of his machines.

“I know I’m not great with these things,” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously, “but I wanted you to know how much you mean to me.”

You smiled, touched by his honesty. “You don’t need to do anything big, Victor. Just being with you is enough.”

He gave you a small, shy smile before pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn’s Valentine’s Day was all about making you feel cherished in the most personal way. She led you to a beautifully decorated spot in her home, where a small, intimate dinner awaited. The table was set with your favorite foods, and the room was filled with soft, romantic music.

“I don’t have grand ideas like some, but I wanted this day to be all about you,” Caitlyn said with a warm smile. “You make me feel loved every day, and today, I want to make sure you feel the same way.”

You smiled, touched by her simplicity. “You already make me feel special, Caitlyn. Thank you for everything.”

She kissed your hand gently, her love shining through every small gesture.

[nhlclover]

BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION MATT REMPE

pairing: fem!reader x matt rempe

summary: matt makes sure to go all out for your birthday, hoping to make it one to remember.

warnings: sweet sweet fluff, reader not liking her birthday, brief crying (but out of happiness!)

wc: 1.4k

notes: fun little birthday celebration with matt :)

The morning light filters softly through the curtains, and before you’re fully awake, you feel the gentle brush of lips against your cheek, the warmth of a breath close to your skin. Blinking your eyes open, you see Matt’s face hovering inches away, his expression tender as he places soft, sleepy kisses along your forehead, down to the tip of your nose. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection.

Still half-asleep, you reach for him, pulling him closer, savoring the warmth of his embrace and the scent of him — a mix of his cologne and vanilla. You’re not entirely sure why he smells like a cupcake, but your sleepy brain doesn’t think about it much. The last thing you want to do is leave this cocoon, this perfect moment wrapped in Matt's arms. A contented sigh escapes your lips as you press your face into his shoulder, barely able to articulate anything beyond a soft, murmured, “Can't we just stay like this all day?”

You’ve never been one to celebrate your birthday with much fanfare. The thought of a day centered entirely around you has always felt a bit uncomfortable, and you’d rather let it quietly slip by with minimal fuss.

Matt chuckles softly, tightening his hold as if he, too, wants to savor every second of this peaceful morning. “That’s exactly why I planned something low-key, just the two of us,” he whispers, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back. You can’t help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness. He knows you so well — how the attention of a big celebration has always made you feel slightly on edge, how you’d rather not be the center of it all.

As he pulls you a little closer, he murmurs, “I know you don’t like all the fuss… but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make today special for you.”

He presses a couple of kisses along your jawline, hands holding your frame tightly to his. Suddenly he pulls back as you let out a disappointed groan. “As much as I’d love to stay here all day… I actually planned something for you.” he says, his voice carrying the faintest trace of excitement, “And I put a lot of effort into it so you’re going to have to get up and at least see it once.”

Reluctantly, you let him pull you out of bed, the world outside seeming less enticing than the warmth you were leaving behind. He wraps an arm around your shoulders as you shuffle down the hallway, staying snug in Matt’s hoodie you slept in last night. When you reach the living room, your breath catches.

The room is transformed. Streamers drape from every corner, a riot of colors filling the space, and a little banner in your favorite colors stretches across one wall, proudly proclaiming, Happy 22nd Birthday! Balloons in every shade are placed around the space, while small decorations and a few scattered confetti glitters on the coffee table. For a moment, you’re speechless, turning slowly to take it all in.

“Did you seriously do all of this?” you manage, looking at Matt, feeling almost shy.

“Of course I did,” he says, looking at you with a mixture of pride and a soft, almost vulnerable joy that takes your breath away. “Oh, you have to come see the best surprise.”

You follow him to the kitchen which is where you see a cake sitting on the counter. It’s a beautiful mess: the frosting uneven but clearly, painstakingly applied, a little lopsided, and decorated with a generous helping of sparkling sprinkles. He must have worked on it for hours, trying his best, determined to make it perfect just for you. The sight of it, so personal, so filled with love, tugs something deep within you.

The gratitude, the overwhelming sweetness of it all, builds so suddenly that you feel your eyes start to prick with tears. You try to blink them away, but it’s too late; Matt notices. His face changes, his brow furrowing as he steps closer, hands finding your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did I…did I do something wrong?” There’s a thread of worry in his voice as he reaches up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the single tear that’s escaped down your cheek.

You shake your head, a tremulous laugh bubbling up. “No, no… it’s just… no one's ever done anything like this for me before.” You gesture around the room, the carefully decorated chaos, the little details so clearly made with you in mind. “All of this… it just means so much.”

Relief floods his features, and he pulls you into a warm, solid embrace. His hands press firmly into your back as if anchoring you to him. “Well, it's your birthday, and it only comes once a year," he says, his voice soft but steady, almost as if he’s saying it to himself. “So, of course I’m going all out. You deserve every second of it.”

You sink into his embrace, feeling the truth of his words settle around you like a warm blanket. The tears fall a little harder because of that — the sheer simplicity of being seen, of being loved without conditions.

You pull back, a smile breaking through the tears as you look up at him. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of emotion. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek, then another just shy of his lips. It’s a little kiss, but it carries all the gratitude, affection, and quiet awe you feel for him in this moment.

His eyes meet yours, his cheeks tinted a little pink as he grins back, clearly touched. “You’re so worth it,” he says quietly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward the cake. “Now, let’s eat some of this masterpiece, yeah? And then — you still have to open your present!”

You both settle at the kitchen counter, laughter filling the room as you cut into the cake, teasing Matt about the abundance of sprinkles. You take a bite, tasting the slightly sweet, perfectly imperfect frosting. It’s delicious, mostly because you know he made it himself. “Matt, this is incredible, thank you.”

As you savor another bite of cake, Matt fidgets slightly, his eyes glimmering with eager excitement. He clears his throat, before reaching into his pocket. “Okay,” he says, looking almost bashful, “now for the real present.”

Matt pulls a small, velvet box from his pocket and places it on the counter between you two. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look at him with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “Matt…” you start, but he cuts you off gently.

“Just open it,” he says, his voice soft.

You pick up the box, feeling a small flutter in your chest as you lift the lid. Inside, nestled in the soft fabric, is a gold charm bracelet with a single small charm dangling from it — a tiny, intricately detailed ice cream cone. You gasp softly, instantly remembering your very first date with Matt when you got ice cream, talking for hours until the diner had to kick you out.

“It reminded me of our first date,” he says, watching your reaction closely, “and every time you look at it, I want you to think about all the other firsts we’re going to have together.” He gives a soft smile. “And, I thought… maybe over time, you could add more charms. Little things that remind you of us — of things we’ve done together, memories we’ve made.”

His words settle over you, filling your heart in a way that’s almost overwhelming. Each little charm to come would be a reminder of this — of him, of this journey you were both on together.

You look up at him, feeling your voice catch slightly. “Matt, this is… it’s perfect. I love it,” you say, reaching for his hand. “Every time I look at this, I’ll think of you. Of us.”

He breathes a sigh of relief, his smile widening as he gently fastens the bracelet around your wrist. “Good,” he says quietly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “That was the idea.”

You lean back, the weight of the bracelet on your wrist a reminder of everything Matt has done to make this day special for you, to help you enjoy your birthday again. As you look up at him, your heart swelling with emotion, you can’t help but smile.

You press another soft kiss to his lips. “I think this might just be my best birthday yet.”

[ruruumin]

happy birthday, mi amor.

₊˚ ᗢ itoshi sae x gn! reader.

⤷ special happy birthday gift to my beloved moot @kaiser1ns!

“what happened in here?” you ask, seeing your boyfriend at the center of what seemed to be a glitter explosion. 

your living room was decorated head to toe with birthday decorations. from banners with your name on it to streamers being thrown across every piece of furniture, everything was placed meticulously. there were even balloons filling the empty corners of the house with your favorite colors. alongside a multitude of giftbags on the table, there was a white cake box, a sweet treat you can only assume came from your favorite bakery. 

still in his sports jacket, sae is covered in confetti with a cheesy ‘happy birthday’ cone hat. in his hands was a small confetti popper. based on his appearance and the somewhat irked expression on his face, you assume he played with the string so much that it exploded on him early. 

“surprise happy birthday,” he replies plainly, as if you had forgotten about your own birthday. he’s still holding onto the popper despite nothing being inside. he was trying to make up for the lack of pizazz with a smile as soft as tofu.

you reach out to hold his bicep, feeling a little embarrassed with your appearance. you had come back from a long day of work and classes, and you just finished a nice dinner with your friends. ending the day off with sae was the best thing you could have ever asked for, if it wasn’t for the messy look on your face and your hair being in all sorts of different shapes. 

sae wasn’t the loud, affectionate person but he made up for it with moments like these. reaching over to hold onto your cheek, he brings you close to him, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes that you see every morning. tender and sweet, you’d say.

“you didn’t have to do all of this y’know.” you smile, “you’re still in your uniform. did you rush over to my place after practice?” 

“it’s your birthday.” translation: yes.

your chest bubbles up with happiness as he kisses the top of your head, nudging you over towards the table. he gives you your own happy birthday hat, kissing you again on your temple as he opens up the white cake box. it was your favorite flavor, the one that he learned immediately and kept in the back of his head after your first date. 

lighting up the candles, he slowly claps for you, singing what might have been the worst rendition of happy birthday you've ever heard. but nonetheless, the moment couldn't be anymore perfect.

“happy birthday, mi amor,” he mutters, watching as you blow out your candles. his chest feels the same enveloping warmth he has come to associate with you. he mentally captures this scene like a polaroid, keeping it close to him like a heart locket he’ll look back on again in the future.

he hopes that whatever wish you made for the year will include him and more tender moments like this.

[otterloreart]

The Glow n Show ponies were released in 1990 and are filled with Glow in the Dark glitter stars!

extra under cut

references from Ponylandpress, photos taken by ponylandpress

In order: Happyglow, Starglow, Dazzleglow and Brightglow. Starglow and Dazzleglow have always been my favorites, I love the cyan color used for Starglow and the pink+blue+white used for Dazzleglow.

However, they seemingly weren't intended to have these colors! I always thought it was weird Happyglow and Brightglow are both orange and when you look at the box art you can see its different:

photo from mylittlewiki, posted by cirrusrose

so I made a variant with the box art as well, or at least as close to the box art as I can get- I think I made the hair a bit too teal but that is what it looks like on the box. I definitely prefer the produced versions except for Happyglow, who I think should have been pale pink.

and speaking of variants, there's actually a Dazzleglow variant with blue hearts that was produced! I'm not sure how rare this variant actually is, it pops up frequently on ebay.

ALSO ALSO the Happyglow ponies are afaik the only (or some of the only) toys that appeared in the 1992 My Little Pony Tales TV show, appearing in the episode "Up Up and Away" where they all had wings. You can tell this version more closely matches the box art. MLPT had a cast of entirely earth ponies and I thiiiink this was the only time a unicorn or pegasus was seen.

Brightglow is the only one who talks. They save the ponies in a hot air balloon but Patch is the only one who sees them.

[pandorxxx]

Hard to please

Neteyam x Omatikayan fem reader (all aged up)

Warnings: Cursing, fingering, p in v, bratty reader, brat-tamer Neteyam, dom-Neteyam, multiple orgasms, squirting, choking, oral (for like 2 seconds, nothing crazy), bondage.

Synopsis: it’s finally your 21st birthday, and every warrior has pitched in to make sure that their favorite girl gets whatever she wants. They all have eyes for you, but you have eyes for one, and one only…

Outfit/Hair inspo:

You were the most spoiled girl in the clan. Your father, being jakes right hand man and your mother being one of the greatest hunters. You were automatically among the elite kids in the clan. You were very prissy, not one to get your hands dirty. Your father got you everything you wanted, and he spoiled the hell out of you. Every girl wanted to be you, and every male wanted to be WITH you. You were one of, if not THE most popular girl in the clan.

So, when your 21st birthday rolled around, you better believe it was the most talked about event all year. It was so big that your father and Jake sat down with many of the warriors to plan this out. It was endless nights of building and preparation, and every warrior in the clan was hands on. It didn’t take much for the young warriors to agree to such a task, considering it was all for you.

To say that you had every male warrior around your age wrapped around your finger was an understatement. They all wanted you, and would do anything to get you. Even if that meant signing up to help with a stupid girly birthday bash.

“Shit, this turned out kinda nice.” Lo’ak smiled, hands on his hips as he looked around the forest, admiring all of the work he and the other warriors put in for your party. There was no theme in particular, your only rule was the main color being PINK. And so, what y/n wants, y/n gets.

Pink lights hung from the tall trees, illuminating the forest just right. Pink balloons, streamers, and glitter imported from earth. This idea had been in your head ever since you were 16 years old, and your father did everything in his power to make sure everything was the way you wanted it. Beautifully decorated desserts sat on a long pink table. Along with all of the alcohol possible. It was truly a fairytale.

“Well, anything y/n wants, y/n gets. I hope she likes it with her ungrateful ass.” Neteyam spoke with a drink in hand, watching the forest fill up with members of the clan.

“She better like it. I’ve got glitter in places glitter shouldn’t fucking be.” Lo’ak scoffed, rolling his eyes. Neteyam followed with a snicker.

“Tell me about it. I’ve been washing pink paint and glitter off of my body for the past couple of weeks.” Neteyam sighed, taking another swig of his drink. The brothers slowly looked at eachother, silence falling between them before the famous line left their lips in unison.

“aNytHinG fOr y/N!” They mocked, bursting out into roaring laughter. It was sad but true. You had every warrior right where you wanted them, and that included Neteyam and Lo’ak. They’d do anything to see your spoiled ass happy. Not to mention you were hard to please.

Suddenly, the lights went low. Literally turning the entire forest a deep pink shade. The music cut, as your father took the main stage that the warriors hand built and painted pink for you.

“I just have a few words before we reveal my beautiful baby girl.” Your father started, immediately quieting the clan. He sighed with admiration before speaking again.

“Y/n, my daughter, my princess. We have been planning this party ever since you were 16 years old, and now…Tis finally time. Tonight is all about you, and I hope you have the best time. I love you so much baby girl.” He finished. The crowd immediately clapping for him.

“Now, I would like to turn the mic over to Jake. I believe he has a few words.” Your father spoke before handing the mic off to Jake.

“Yes, thank you. Firstly, I want to start off by wishing y/n a very happy birthday. I’ve known her all of her life. And she has grown to be a beautiful, lovely young lady.” Jake started with a lighthearted smile.

“Yeah, she’s grown alright. Have you seen that ass? Eywa took her precious fucking ti-“ lo’ak whispered before Neteyam covered his mouth. “HUSH!” Neteyam strained, trying to hold in his laugh.

“I want to thank my warriors for setting this entire party up. I’ve never seen them volunteer for something so goddamn fast.” Jake joked, eyeing all of his warriors all knowingly causing them to erupt into laughter.

“Anyway, I hope you have a great time baby girl. We all love you. Tonight’s all about you.” Jake ended, causing the crowd to hoot and hollar. Suddenly, The brightest pink light flashed on you and your friends in your own private section. Gasps from the girls and whistles from the men filled the forest.

Your hair was twisted in the front, as loose curls hung down your back. Decorated with gorgeous pink accessories. Your body was covered in loose glitter, glowing under the bright lights. Your outfit was revealing, diamond embroidered nonetheless. Diamond chains hanging down your waist. Diamond chains laid perfecting along your round ass. Your thigh-band matched your diamond outfit perfectly as well as your other accessories. You smiled, blowing kisses into the crowd as you waved at everyone.

“Oh my…” lo’ak spoke in a trance like state, watching as you stood up to spin around, showing off your little outfit. “Mmm that girl is practically fucking naked. Who ever made that outfit needs a raise or something.” Lo’ak continued, eyeing you up and down before licking his lips.

“Mhm.” Neteyam hummed, watching you through his predatory gaze. Muscles flexed as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. You and Neteyam were kind of close, considering both of your fathers brotherhood. He really couldn’t stand your attitude. You were rude, cocky, and prissy. Your relationship was mostly him giving and you taking, without as much as a simple thank you. If it wasn’t for his father, he would’ve been taken care of that bratty attitude of yours. There was no denying that he was sexually attracted to you. Hell, every warrior was. And tonight just amplified it.

The music turned back on, and the party resumed. You spent your time mingling with everyone there. Singing and dancing with your friends, and drinking/smoking the entire time. Until it was gift time. This was always your favorite part of any celebration. Even though the only person who was good at giving you gifts was your father, he knew you so well.

The warriors fell in line, right in-front of you. Most of them bowing at your feet before handing you their gifts. They all ranged from handmade jewelry, cloths, and accessories. Nothing that really peeked your interest.

“Lo’ak, what the hell is this?” You smiled sarcastically, holding a very short pink loincloth with “lo’aks property” written across it in black glitter.

“Oh, come on mama! you know we would be good together. Just thought everyone else should know that ass belongs to me.” He shot you a cheesy smile, rubbing his hands together as if he just gave you a block of gold. You couldn’t hold your laugh in as much as you tried.

“Tempting. It’s too small.” You giggled, holding it up with your finger. He smirked, eyeing you up and down. “Exactly.” He whispered, biting his lip with a stupid smile on his face.

“Yeah Yeah, where’s your brother?” You rolled your eyes before blushing slightly at just the mere thought of Neteyam.

“Bro, I don’t know. I don’t care either. Kiss me already!” He spoke in an irritated tone, puckering his lips as he closed his eyes. You threw the loincloth at him, landing perfectly on his head.

“Kiss that.” You laughed, your friends right behind you. And the gifts just kept coming. Warrior after warrior. Same old same old. Until one of your favorite ones stepped up, stealing your undivided attention.

“Y/n, you look beautiful as always.” Said Nazu before signing a greeting. He was one of the most promising warriors in the clan around your age. He was strong, confident, sexy and you couldn’t deny that.

“I know I’m pretty. Give me the gift now.” You spoke sensually, bringing him closer by his war belt. He smiled, eyeing you up and down before following your orders. He handed you the box, both of you locking eyes as you took it out of his hand. Your gaze met the box as you untied it. The most beautiful headpiece you’d ever seen shimmered under the pink lights. Encrusted with rare pink diamonds, only the most skilled hunter would be able to find. You and your friends audibly gasped. Your mouth hung opened in shock. Nazu was visibly proud. Proud that he impressed you, and that was very hard to do.

“A headpiece I made myself. Your favorite colored diamonds are woven together, see? Only fit for a queen, such as yourself.” He explained, his voice low, as he admired his handy work in your hand.

“Oh my eywa, Nazu….” You spoke in a surprised tone. Admiring the headpiece before meeting his gaze. “You’re always the best gift giver.” You smiled, immediately placing the headpiece on. And ofcourse it went with your outfit so well. Everything on your body was dripping with diamonds, so expensive as it all danced under the low lights. He was utterly speechless as he admired everything about you, eyeing you up and down with a slight smirk.

“Y/n, if you’d do me the honor, I want to court you. I’d take such good care of you, better than any of these other warriors and you know that. I’d give you the life you deserve, and you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’d shower you with gifts like this everyday.” He confessed, bringing your dainty hands to his lips, leaving a small kiss as he stared into your soul. You couldn’t help but smile, listening to the same old song you heard from the warriors before him. His hands shifted to your back, scooting you closer to the edge of your throne with aggression. He leaned down to your ear, placing a soft kiss.

“I’d fuck you right. However you want it, whenever you want it. It’s all yours, my love.” He spoke sensually in your ear, sliding his hands down your back to grip your ass. He was making you hot. He knew what he wanted and he went for it, there’s nothing more attractive than that. But you couldn’t help but turn your attention to the warrior behind him. The last warrior of the night. Neteyam stood tall, gift in hand as he glared at the scene unfolding in-front of him. He huffed with every breath, face screwed in anger.

“As tempting as that sounds. I would be a liar if I said I didn’t have eyes for another.” You hummed, staring directly at Neteyam, making sure he heard every word. He smirked, shaking his head all knowingly. Nazu let you go, backing up to look at you. He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked around.

“Ha! Who? Who could you possibly want more than me?!!” He shouted, eyebrow cocked as he waited for an answer. You looked back at Neteyam briefly, as he seemed to be in defense mode, just in case he need to kick Nazu’s ass for the way he was shouting at you.

“I want you! Can’t you see?!” Nazu growled lowly, gripping your dainty arm tightly. Shaking you out of your trance.

“Move.” Neteyam said firmly, standing directly behind Nazu. His lip twitching with anger as his tail swayed high in defense. Your eyes went from the grip on your arm to Neteyam within an instant. Nazu huffed, letting you go harshly before throwing his hands up in surrender. He turned around, meeting Neteyams hard gaze.

“She’s all yours.” Nazu smiled sarcastically, backing down immediately. He turned his head to you eyeing you up and down before walking away. Bumping neteyam’s shoulder in the process. Right as Neteyam went to snatch Nazu by his queue, he felt 2 dainty hands grab his wrist, turning him around.

“Hey Hey! Don’t worry about him. Fuck him.” You reassured Neteyam, bringing him dangerously close.

“Did he hurt you? Huh? I’ll fucking kill him.” He growled, examining your arm for any marks. Jaw clenching and unclenching in anger. You grabbed his chin, titling it up to meet your gaze.

“I know you would. But it’s no need for that. I’m fine.” You smiled, glancing at his lips, before bringing your eye contact back to his eyes. He sighed in relief, finally calming down in your embrace.

“What’s in the box?” You asked with a smirk, letting his chin go before pointing at the small box in his hand.

“Why’s it so small? You of all people know I like big presents.” You snarled, sitting back in your throne, crossing your legs slowly. Thighband flashing with every sudden move. He chuckled, glancing down at it before handing you the box.

“Such a fucking brat. Just open the box!” He laughed, placing it in your lap when you wouldn’t take it from him. You rolled your eyes, lifting the lid to be met with the most beautiful thigh band you’d ever seen. It was pink ofcourse, covered in bioluminescent flora and huge diamonds so bright that they reflected on your face. Bigger and shinier than the ones Nazu gifted you. You were speechless, jaw dropped to the ground as you watched it dance under the lights.

“N-Neteyam I- Thank you.” You stuttered, in complete awe as you stared at the beautiful craftsmanship on your new favorite present.

His eyes widened, ears perked up from your words. Out of everything he’s ever done for you, he’d never gotten a thank you until now.

“I-umm.” He threw his head down, chuckling at himself for getting choked up. “I know how much you like those things. You always look so good with them on, so I thought I’d make you a personal one. Your favorite color, and the biggest diamonds I could find.” He finished, hand on the back of his neck as he glanced at the thigh band you had on, trying his best to keep his composure.

“I love it. I love it so much! Put it on me, please!” You screeched in excitement, handing him the thigh band. He shook his head with a light smile before bending down in-front of you. He ran his strong, calloused hands up your leg slowly. You uncrossed your legs immediately, letting his tender touch consume you. He grabbed the piece of fabric that was already on your thigh, pulling it down slowly as he watched you Intently.

Once he got it off of you, he tried to hand it back to you. You shook your head, pushing his hand away. “You keep that one.” You spoke, eyeing him sensually. He smirked before placing it between his teeth, grabbing the one he made for you. He slipped it on you slowly, making sure it was in place before sliding his hand all the way down your leg softly.

“Perfect fit. You know me so well.” You giggled, admiring the band dancing in the lights. He admired too as he took the old band out of his mouth, placing it on his wrist just for it to scrunch to his size perfectly.

“Finally got your ungrateful ass to say thank you. I think my job here is done.” He joked, standing to his full height. You placed your foot on his chest, and he quickly grabbed your ankle, massaging your lower leg with a slight smirk.

“What are you doing? Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head with a confused look on his face.

“I wanna show you how grateful I am. Let’s go somewhere more private.” You smirked.

“And miss the rest of your party? I don’t think so.” He said sarcastically, shaking his head in disagreement.

“Let’s take the party elsewhere.” You demanded, eye fucking him as you looked at his loincloth. Bulge growing by the second.

“Now you know your father would kill me for fucking his precious little princess.” He spat, letting out a chuckle before placing your foot back on the ground.

“Oh come on, Tey! He won’t find out. I know you want me.” You giggled, leaning back in the chair before shifting your hips up sensually. He clenched his jaw in restraint, watching your body move, and the diamonds glisten around it.

“Mmm what gave it away?” He hummed. You bring him closer by his wrist, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Oh, I dont know. Maybe the growing bulge in your loincloth babe.” You whispered in his ear before backing away to look into his eyes. He raised a brow, a slight smirk forming across his lips. “We can’t, y/n.”

“Give me what I want, Neteyam. It’s my birthday!” You whined, bottom lip poked out as you pleaded with him. He sighed before he let a smile creep across his face.

“You sure know how to get what the fuck you want, don’t you?” He asked with a slight smirk, picking you up out of your chair. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist as you kissed his neck shamelessly, not caring if anyone saw you. He glanced back at your friends, shooting them a fake smile.

“Uhh, if you ladies would excuse us. I’ll bring her back in a few.” He chuckled nervously, bowing his head slightly at the girls before walking away with you in his arms.

- -

He walked you to a secluded place in the forest behind the party. Music from the party could still be heard from where you two were. Your lips were still attached to his neck, purple hickeys forming all around his neck. He laid you down on the moss before hovering over you, indulging in a passionate kiss.

“Fuck, lay back!” You commanded, flipping him to the ground before straddling his lap.

“Goddamn, woman. You want me that bad, huh?” He chuckled watching you take the headpiece that Nazu gifted you, throwing it to the ground beside you.

“Oh shut up!” You rolled your eyes, bending down to kiss him again. He obliged, humming in your mouth as he slid his hands down your back to your round ass, gripping it tightly. He smacked it a few times, causing you to moan in his mouth.

“Take it off of me.” You moaned breathily in between kisses. He obliged, untying your diamond skirt from around your hips, throwing it to the side. He moved on to your diamond thong, untying it from around your hips. He pulled it from under you, throwing it to the side as well. You sat up on him, grabbing his hand to run it down your entire body. He bit his lip, watching the diamonds on your outfit dance under the night sky.

“You look so good, I-I don’t even wanna take this off of you.” He spoke in his melodic tone, running his hands across your diamond top.

“So don’t.” You smirked, yanking his loincloth down just enough to expose his throbbing cock. The veins pulsated as his swollen tip leaked precum. Your eye’s widened, licking your lips as you stared at his huge cock in awe.

“I want it. Right now.” You spoke in a trance like state, completely hypnotized by his gorgeous shaft.

“It’s all yours, Princess. Now let me give it to you, ok?” He spoke calmly, nodding his head as he tried to sit up, but you just pushed him back down. Immediately lifting up to attempt sliding down onto him.

“I I-wanna ride it!” You moaned, trying to push him into you, to no avail. You really didn’t know what you were doing, but you knew that you wanted him, right now.

Come on, y/n. g-get up, it’s not working this way.” He sighed, tapping your thigh.

“Nooo teyam, I wanna ride it. Just a f-few more seconds! I-ngh! It’s almost in!” You whined, gripping his shoulders tightly as you tried to shimmy your way down his shaft.

He growled, rubbing his hands down his face in frustration. “It’s n-nowhere near in you. J-Just let me change positions. I can help you out, ok?” He explained, voice calm as he maintained his patience with you.

“No! Just put it in me already!” You huffed, still trying to use him as your own personal fuck toy, but failing miserably in the process.

“Shit! You’re going to hurt yourself!” He shouted in frustration, stopping your hips with his large hands.

“STOP IT TEY!” You shouted back, sending him over the edge. He growled loudly flipping you both over, him now hovering over your half naked frame. You tried to lift your head up to speak before he grabbed your neck, pushing you back to the ground. You immediately backed down to him, the only man that could put you in your place.

“I know you’re not used to being told no. But that shit ends today. If we do this, we do it MY way. You’re not the fucking boss, I AM. Got it?” He spoke lowly, shaking your neck with every word. You held onto his wrist to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze your neck any tighter. You nodded your head frantically with wide eyes.

He bent down, crashing his lips into yours. Your tongues fought for dominance, but his won. He began to slide his hand down your body slowly, until he reached your bare cunt, rubbing firm circles into your clit.The surge of electricity made your body jolt under his touch. You tried to evert eyes from Neteyam by turning your head side to side frequently, but all he did was follow you with his eyes.

“No, look at me y/n.” He said breathily with a dark tone before tilting your chin to meet his gaze. He deemed this the perfect time to slide 2 fingers into you nice and slow. Your back bowed to the mossy ground, breasts just barely touching his chest as you let out a series of whimpers. He curled his two fingers into you at a steady pace while he used his thumb to massage your clit harshly.

“FUCK I- I…” you moaned, squirming around underneath him. He grabbed your neck, holding you in place before he drilled you with his fingers, working loud squelching noises out of you. Your jaw dropped suddenly, deeming you completely silent. He was nose to nose with you, you two breathing the same air as you listened to the wet sounds of your cunt.

“You wanna be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?” He asked, staring into your blown pupils.

“I-I YES! Im gonna be a good girl!” You squealed, face screwing in pleasure as your legs started to shake. If your eyes weren’t wide before, they were bulging now.

“TEYAM! I think I-I THINK!” You gasped, your orgasm completely taking over your body. “Mhm, give it to me baby! Don’t hold back.” He moaned, getting completely turned on by your pornographic release. You screamed, gripping his strong arm as your juices flowed out of you with each rough pump of his fingers. He suddenly took them out of you, smacking your clit at a harsh and fast pace. Surges of electricity ran through your veins, making you twitch with every other smack.

“Cum for me AGAIN!” He growled, watching you come undone for a second time, squirting all over his hands and wrist. Your legs closed around his hand tightly, as you lazily backed away from him.

“P-Please Teyam!” You whined, gaining some distance away from him as he watched you back away. He chuckled, sitting up on his knees as he jerked his cock at a painfully slow pace.

“Come back. I thought this was what you wanted?” He asked sarcastically, yanking you back down to him by your ankle.

“No, I-I do want it. I-I just-“ you stuttered until he cut you off. “You just want it YOUR way. And I won’t let that happen, sweetheart.” He continued your thought, he knew you like the back of his hand.

“Not true!” You whined, crossing your arms.“ Yes the fuck it is.” He spoke lowly, slapping his cock on your sensitive clit, smearing your juices on his shaft. You lifted your head up just to get a peak, licking your lips as you hummed with each slap.

“You want it in you?” He bit his lip, now rubbing his cock in between your soaked folds. You sat up on your elbows, watching the source of pleasure, listening to the squelching noises.

“Yesss! Please Teyam. Im begging you!” You moaned, bucking your hips against his cock. To hear you beg was like music to his ears, and all he could do was give you what you wanted, no questions asked. He lined his cock up with your aching hole before sliding in slowly, making sure not to hurt you in any way.

You were already drunk off of him. Your head dipping back slowly to every single inch he slid into you. Your eyes rolled back and you had a delirious smile plastered on your face from finally getting what you wanted.

He bottomed out harshly, smashing the last few inches into your sweet spot before continuing that movement with deep strokes. He grabbed your leg, pulling it over his shoulder to open you up alittle more.

“Ohh my- Teyam FUUUCK!” You moaned, gripping the moss beneath you. You whined with every thrust, back still bowed to the ground. He started at your neck, rubbing his calloused hand down you entire torso, sending chills through your spine. He reached your clit, rolling it between his fingers before massaging the bud of nerves with his thumb.

You jolted uncontrollably from the pleasure. You reached down to grab his wrist tightly, trying your best to stop his movements as the pleasure became too much for you. He smacked your hand away immediately before glaring at you, stopping his movements all together.

“You don’t fucking listen! I told you, I’m in charge. Not you!” He growled, pulling out of you just to flip you over on your stomach. Your eyes widened, realizing that you’d ticked him off for the last time.

“Teyam, I-I’m sorry! It was j-just too much! It won’t happen again please!” You pleaded with him, and he loved to hear you beg. He stayed silent, all you could hear were loud huffs. So loud and intense that you could feel his hot breath on your back.

He took your diamond thigh band from around his wrist. He pulled your arms behind your back, wrapping the piece of fabric around your dainty wrists a few times before it was tight enough.

“Arch it. NOW.” He commanded, sending a hard smack to your ass. You whimpered, yet and still lifting your knees up, arching your back and exposing your dripping cunt to him. He chuckled, watching your stubborn ass follow his direct orders.

“All it took was my cock to make your prissy ass bow down, huh?” He grabbed your hair, yanking it back to the point where your eyes met his. Your eyes were filled with desperation and he loved it.

“Watch me destroy this pussy. Don’t take your eyes off of me.” He growled, sliding his clock into you slowly, watching your eyes roll back from the sudden fullness. He began to drill into you, hard and deep. And all he could do was watch you fall apart, moaning and whining deliriously as he fed you long, hard strokes.

“What would your father think about his precious, innocent, Princess getting dicked down like the slut she is, hmm?” He asked, watching your face screw in pleasure as he sped up his pace.

“You’ve really got everyone fooled. Thinking you’re so fucking innocent. Saying you don’t get dirty, but look at you. So fucking dirty for me, right?” He snarled in your ear, gripping your hair tighter as he drilled so deep into you.

“Mhm! Yesss!” You moaned, voice rippling from his hard thrusts. He pushed your cheek back down into the ground, pushing your knees farther apart. He gripped your hips, using them to bring you back onto his throbbing cock repeatedly.

“Tell me you’re my dirty little slut.” He growled, smacking your ass a few times, leaving numerous purple handprints on the flesh. Using your tied up hands, you tried to block his hits, to no avail.

“Te-yammm I- I can’t!” You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt his swollen tip slam against your sweet spot with each stroke. The pleasure mixed with pain was too much for you, it consumed you to the point of delirium. But you knew if you didn’t obey him, it would get worse for you.

“I-I’m your dirty little slut!” You muttered before biting your bottom lip, trying to suppress the screams threatening to pierce through the still forest.

“Mhm, Good girl. Good *thrust* fucking *thrust* girl *thrust*” he moaned through gritted teeth before tucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, watching your ass meet his pelvis with every hard thrust.

“I-I’m so fucking close, Teyam!” You whined, shifting your head on the ground to look back at him. He grabbed the restraint around your wrist, using that as leverage to pound into you slowly, creating the loudest smacking sounds that rang through the forest. Your jaw dropped, legs shaking from your oncoming orgasm as you clenched around him repeatedly.

“Mhmm! keep squeezing me with this pretty pussy. Cum on this dick and milk me dry, Princess.” He moaned, shooting you a devilish smirk before smacking your ass once more. There was nothing you could say, your moans got caught in your throat, and your jaw still hung opened. He watched your eyes roll back again, shaking uncontrollably from the steady strokes he sent you.

“Best birthday present ever I’m guessing?” He chuckled, eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. You nodded your head slowly, still spasming underneath him as you finally reached your peek.

“SHIT!” You squealed sharply, juices flowing down your legs with every stroke. He pulled out, smacking your clit with his cock repeatedly, working your orgasm out of you. You shook violently, screaming as you squirted all over his cock.

“Fuck yes! Let it out all over this dick.” He moaned, sliding back into you to chase his high. Your knees buckled, sending you and him flat against the moss. He still kept his pace inside of you, thrusting hard and deep. You lazily squirmed under him, trying to crawl away from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

“No, come back. I’ve got one more present for you.” He growled in your ear, wrapping his entire arm around your neck, using it as leverage to Buck his hips into you hard.

“Mmm too deep, too deep!” You moaned, using your tied up hands to push down on his lower abdomen. But you were too tired to use any real force.

“I’ll go as deep as I want to in this pussy. It’s mine!” He growled, tightening his grip on your neck as he thrusted into you harder. You were on the verge of another orgasm. Twitching with every stroke, whimpering his name as tears welled in your eyes.

“Y-You’re gonna make me cum again!” You screamed, feeling the knot in your lower abdomen tighten. “Go ahead baby, I’m right behind you.” He moaned in your ear before kissing the lobe.

That was all you needed before your eyes rolled back, cumming on his cock for the second time. His cream coated shaft revealing itself with every thrust. You let out a series of moans as you came down from your high. Neteyam felt your walls contract around him, trying to milk him dry.

“Fuuuck! Get on your knees!” He grunted, pulling out of you, walking around your trembling body to stand in-front of you. You managed to use your knees, pulling you up to kneel in front of him.

“Mmm you look so fucking pretty like this. Ready for your gift, Princess?” He moaned jerking his cock hard and fast. Sliding his hand from the base, all the way to the tip, smearing the precum oozing out of his tip. He let out a few grunts before painting your face with his seed. You smiled deliriously, sticking your tongue out for him.

“Juuust like that baby, let me feed you.” He moaned, grabbing your hair to push your mouth onto his cock. You obliged, wrapping your mouth around his entire length as he came in your mouth. You hummed on him, sucking the rest of his nut out of him. Your cheeks filled with his seed and you swallowed it greedily before detaching from him with a loud popping sound.

He grabbed your chin harshly, smearing the access cum across your lips. “Happy birthday, my little brat.” He muttered through gritted teeth. You stared up at him through hooded eyes, a delirious smile plastered across your face.

“Thank you, Teyam…”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @viajaeger @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @thecutieyahia @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @neteyamsprincess @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @blueslxt-primary @jackchampismybbg @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut

[attapullman]

The Perfect Pink | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: While bartending for Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine's Party, you encounter a pink-cheeked man and his cherry-loving cousins.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: all fluff with alcohol mentions

A Note From Mo: Here is my Pink Lady fic for @thedroneranger's Pick Your Poison event to go with this gorg moodboard! As a part-time mixologist and full-time Bob Floyd lover, this was such a fun concept to play around with and has inspired me to come up with more pink drinks. I've never been a Valentine's girly, but I fully believe this pink-cheeked WSO could convince me otherwise. To everyone who reads this, I love you bunches and bunches, all 365 days in the year!

It’s so pink. Horrendously. Abysmally. Pepto-bismally. PINK.

When you agreed to tend the bar in a pinch, a few bundles of carnations and candy pink paper hearts were your guess for the evening’s decorations. But when you showed up to Rolling Acres Retirement's Valentine’s Party holding a crate of soda water and a handful of shakers, your senses flatlined with the amount of pink covering every surface.

Petal pink tablecloths straightened over round tables; a small bouquet of magenta carnations attached to each folding chair and incensing the recreation hall of the retirement home. Heart-covered paper plates and folded napkins set up at each place setting, glittering confetti sprinkled around the tableware. The ceiling isn’t even a reprieve, a rainbow of fuchsia and rose and flamingo and blush balloons filling up every available inch of space.

Suzette on the front desk had complimented your dusky pink sweater - an appropriate choice for the holiday - but set against this backdrop you feel like another decoration. An oversized bauble that also makes cocktails and pours cheap wine.

And now, standing behind this makeshift card-table-turned-bar covered in bubblegum crepe paper, your brain might explode in a cloud of hot pink smoke. Counting out pours and trying not to slice yourself making garnishes is a struggle keeping up with all these orders. While the average age of the party goer may be eighty, they drink more than the 21st birthday bash you bartended last weekend. You’ve been here all of an hour and Mrs. Moscovitz has already downed three fuschia cosmopolitans.

While disappointed you don’t have more romantic Valentine’s Day plans - though, when have you ever had a date on this too pink day? - it’s fun to see who’s turned up to celebrate. White-haired couples are swaying on the makeshift dance floor, every shade of pink and red in their attire. Bridge groups and knitting circles are excitedly chatting at their respective tables, gossiping over who is in attendance and with whom. Even the staff have wide grins splitting their faces, enjoying the festivities that break up the bleak winter. It’s the least you can do to spend the holiday providing beverages for this crowd.

The best part is the families. While romantic love is thick in the air, so is platonic love. Family members of all ages have come out to spend the holiday with the residents. Mr. Gordon’s daughter and her family have driven hours to catch up over pot roast and sparkling cider while his grandson plays trucks over a pile of chocolates he snuck from Suzette.

Orders have slowed down and your eyes keep glancing over to Ms. Floyd’s table. The entire clan has showed up for dinner, dancing, and to take home a batch of her homemade snickerdoodles. Multiple relatives are taking up two entire heart-sprinkled tables. Your focus is mainly on the second table for too far from you, where the grandkids have been relegated to play cards and swap candy hearts to pass the time.

“Why don’t you go ask the pink lady for more cherries.” God, he’s cute. The only guy in this place near your age and his attention is stolen by a pair of toddler girls obsessed with the cherries in their Shirley temples. 

You divert your eyes quickly when you realize he’s talking about you and your pink sweater. The girls giggle shyly, the high pitched squeals of glee as they convince him to go up instead. Fiddling with shakers, wiping down the counter, you try to stay busy as you physically feel him approach the converted bar and your trembling hands.

“Hi!” His smile is thin and nervous and his cheeks are pink, blushing from his little cousins and their antics. Also because you’re much prettier up close and he’s wearing a shirt he’d never normally be caught in if his grandma hadn’t picked it out. 

He’s much cuter at this distance as well. Sandy hair combed neatly, one small strand slipping out behind his ear. Friendly cerulean eyes framed by golden wire spectacles, similar to the ones several of the ex-military men at Rolling Acres are sporting. His thin lips falter slightly as he takes in how well the pink of your sweater compliments your skin. God, he wishes he wasn’t wearing this shirt.

You spring into service mode and grab a fresh cocktail shaker. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m technically up here for some cherries.” You dutifully nod, hoping to hide the fact you’ve been watching him converse with the toddler girls in their matching baby pink dresses most of the night. You make a small dish of cherries up and push it toward him, shaking your head when he attempts to pay. “The thirty-eight cents of cherries is a small expense for a night those two will talk about for weeks. They’re on the house.”

He grabs the dish with a smile, but realizes he now has no excuse to stay by the bar. And while he loves his cousins, he’s on leave for a few more weeks and you’re really pretty. A few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He extends his hand with a timid smile. “I’m Bob.”

You reach out and shake his hand back as you introduce yourself, hoping the condensation coating your fingers isn’t too noticeable. He immediately commits your name to memory, happy to replace “The Pink Lady” with a name as fitting to you as yours.

He moves out of the way as a woman in a magenta scarf orders a round for her bingo group. Bob watches as you whir into action, pouring liquors and counting off ounces. The delicate way you garnish each drink so the owner feels special. Your gracious smile when a tip is stuffed into the heart-shaped velvet box provided to you for tips.

When the line at the bar dies down, he sidles back up to your makeshift station. Bob notices the way you eye the decorations warily, still adjusting to the deafening pink of it all. He drums lightly on the blushing pink tablecloth, catching your wide-eyed attention. “Everything all right?”

“Uh, this place is too…pink?” you laugh, gesturing to the overabundance of rosy hues surrounding you. For possibly the first time all night, Bob realizes that while you were the only pink thing that had his attention, it is suffocating in the recreation hall. 

“Yes, yes it is,” he chuckles right back, eyes soaking in the offending decorations. There’s a comfortable air between the two of you, and he decides to push his luck for more time with The Pink Lady.

Bob clears his throat, pulse thrumming through his body. Tonight is his one and only chance to land a date with the pretty bartender.

“So, to go with the theme, what is the pinkest drink you can make me?” He wiggles his eyebrows, his best attempt at flirting. A hint of a giggle escapes as you purse your lips, contemplating his challenge. 

“I can make you a pink lady.” 

He narrows his eyes. “Is that a real drink, or have you named it after yourself?”

“It’s real, I promise.” You’re all smiles at his attention as you combine the gin, applejack, and grenadine with a splash of lemon juice. He really could watch you work for hours.

As you reach for the last ingredient, his eyes bug out. “Is that an egg?” He’s a Navy man, his normal bar only has cocktails with two ingredients. Since when did eggs go in cocktails?

“When you dry shake an egg white it creates this nice foam, adds to the drink.” While he wants to come across as open-minded and cultured, he’s hesitant. “If you don’t like it, I’ll make you something else.”

He’s bewitched as you pour the perfectly pink drink into a plastic coup, the creamy white foam rising to top it off. A cherry balances the rim, one that won’t be stolen by his mischievous cousins. As he looks between the freshly poured drink and you, he swears your cheeks are the same happy pink.

You push the drink toward him, excited to share something new with a customer. Always a gamble as a bartender, but worth it when you expand someone’s palate. He gives you a tentative smile, unsure if he’s going to like it, but he really wants to impress you. In return, you give him an encouraging nod, completely unsure of how this will go. He takes a sip, the frothy mixture coating his tongue.

As far as he’s concerned, the drink is named after you. Not too sweet, not too tart, a divinely balanced combination of flavors in a perfect pink concoction. Bob is convinced you would taste just as good, especially with a cherry. The thought makes his brain blank.

“Do you like it?” Your hopeful eyes are endearing. He wants to brush the strand of hair from your cheek and assure you that he likes it, that he’d like anything you made him because you made it. But you’re practically strangers so he stumbles over his words as he promises it’s delicious. 

The bowl of cherries for his cousins still in his hand, Bob stands to the side of the bar and sips his tartly sweet drink, casually keeping up conversation with you as you serve other patrons. You’re glad for the company, enjoying the way he asks about your technique and mutters out the few things he knows about wine from conversations with his aunt. Despite the fact you’re working, it’s the best Valentine’s Day you’ve had in years with this bespectacled man watching you tend bar.

He’s just so cute, blushing his own special pink hue when your eyes connect while you shake up a few martinis.

“Uncle Bob!” There is no mistaking who is calling him over. Two identical heads pouting as they motion him over. His time with you is up. He gives you a sweet smile, trying to memorize every inch of your face, before motioning his hand filled with cherries in their direction. You bittersweetly grin right back, smile lingering as you start on Mr. Nickerson’s two merlots as you watch his broad shoulders walk away.

Oh, how you wish he would come back.

Because it’s a retirement home and not a frat house, by ten the party is wrapping up. You’ve exchanged shy glances with Bob a handful of times, but his family has taken up most of his attention with Navy questions and inquiring when he’s going to visit next. He barely registers the event is over before he’s rummaging through his mom’s handbag with his last attempt at salvaging the night.

You’re cleaning up your supplies when the Floyd clan walks past, all waving good night to you and the staff, thanking you all for a great Valentine’s night. The girls thank you for their cherries, a stem hanging from one’s lip. 

Staggering at the end of the crowd is Bob, his cheeks flushed and palms tingling. He stands in front of your table, rocking on his heels, working up his courage. You give him a warm smile, thanking him for his company, and he completely melts. As he holds up his occupied hand, he hopes this works.

“Forgot to slip this in earlier.” His smile is tense as he jams a few dollars through the absurdly small hole in your improvised tip box. You thank him before both blurting out awkward goodbyes. As he catches up with his family, a pang rings through your chest. Disappointed he’s gone, never to be seen again. 

Bob Floyd, a Valentine’s mirage you will remember fondly.

Once all your things are packed, you square things up with Suzette with your pay for the event and a promise to stop by to visit the residents later in the month. You schlep everything to the car, a mixture of emotions painting your face in the rearview mirror as you make your way back home. The weight of defeat keeping you from bringing anything inside except for that damn tip box you’re hoping will cover groceries for the week.

You pry open the velvet lid and are met with the best surprise.

There, at the bottom of your substitute tip jar, underneath all the singles the elderly stiffed you with, was a scrap of cheap rosy pink napkin. You unfurl it to see neat chicken scratch handwriting, the pen poking through the fabric in spots as he worked to write out his message with a phone number beneath.

I’m here until the 27th. Drinks on me? - Bob

Now that you think about it, maybe you do like pink.

taglist: @berryvanille @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @rhettsluvr @roosterforme @seitmai @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

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[eyelambspider]

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 '𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞' 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? || 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 fem!version

Prompts twenty-seven of Creeptober! Here is a link to the male!version!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : könig x fem!reader (reader wears a dress) 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : könig is sick of highschool, and on prom night he decides to summon the courage to do two things: get back at his bullies... and tell you how he feels. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.7 k 𝐚/𝐧 : gets dark, but, includes a cute stalker könig? is this a win or- also if you haven't watched carrie... spoiler alert 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : blood/gore, bullying, stalking, yandere themes, light smut (suggestive), chars are over 18+, slight angst, mutual pining, no use of y/n, alcohol

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. The neon lights sparkled off the disco ball and flooded the dark gymnasium. Party balloons lined the ceiling and dancefloor, kicked around lazily as couples and friends twirled to the music. Chaperones turned a blind eye to the obscenities that took place under the bleachers or right in the middle of the dance floor. Tongues tangling together with laughter and playful bites.

Someone probably spiked the drinks here for more 'fun'. Afterall, tonight the entire class was celebrating themselves as adults now.

König grimaced hard under his black mask, gritting his teeth together so hard he feared they might break. The black tie he failed to put on clutched in a white knuckle grip.

This school deserved to burn, to rot. Everyone on that damned dance floor didn't fucking deserve to enjoy the night. Not after the hell they had put him through this year.

His sad blue eyes flickered up for a moment.

Laughing and smiling, dancing together... His bullies still snickering amongst themselves, glancing the losers way.

König was sat on the bleachers, closest to the wall, his head hanging a little lower as a group of girls in pretty gowns giggled at him as they passed.

"Why is he still wearing that thing?" someone muttered over the music. Filling his face with shame under the hood.

He hated prom.

He had only come because he was forced to, and he couldn't quite leave either because they were picking him up after this.

It was a fucking nightmare. Even on the edge of everything, a specter looking in on the typical 'highschooler' experiences being made. Couples danced and friends threw their heads back in laugher... Meanwhile, he was in the darkest corner, trying desperately not be noticed.

Shoulders hunched to make him appear smaller than he was, unsure where to put his eyes... The anxiety in his veins making him tremble under his fine suit.

There was at least one saving grace to this unsavory night.

Cautiously, as if he was being watched, König peeked around the thrumming gymnasium. Silently seeking out the one person who comforted his thoughts.

You were sitting on the bleacher opposite of him, a drink in hand, smiling as you watched everyone dance.

His whole body stiffened at the sight, a deep flush burning down his neck as he tried to avert his gaze.

He couldn't ever really look away from you though. His crush, all throughout highschool... the one thing he bothered looking forward to.

He stole another glance upward and his breath caught in his throat.

You looked gorgeous in that dress. The sparkly fabric glittering under the disco lights. The stones catching against the dim fairy lights. König's eyes traced the sweetheart neckline, his soft blue eyes greedily eating up the glimpses of your collarbones and tops of your chest.

He desperately drank in your form, the curve of your waist, the soft column of your throat... "Scheiße..." he hissed, feeling the seat of his pants tighten as he watched you sip your punch. Just slowly swaying to the music.

König discretely adjusted his situation, licking his lips nervously before he glanced at the dancefloor to make sure no one was looking. They would give him so much shit if they saw him ogling you. The girl everyone wanted to dance with.

He stole another glance your way and felt his heart nearly stop dead in his chest.

Your eyes met his and you smiled at him. A light (possibly drunken) flush coating your cheeks as you waved shyly.

König instinctively looked away, heart beating a million miles an hour.

God what was wrong with him? He winced clutching his undone bowtie as if it were a lifeline.

This wasn't art class or history, where he could sit at the back of class and stare at you whenever he wanted to. This was prom night.

He imagined it completely different than this.

So many nights he spent picturing kissing you, feeling your soft lips pressed against his... maybe finally telling you how much his heart swelled at just a stolen glance. How complete he felt whenever he got a fleeting moment with you.

God, he treasured all of those moments. 'Accidentally' bumping into you in the hallway, watching you walk home after school... always afraid to confess.

Tonight had to be different... and he was running out of time.

Although he trembled, König glanced at the darkened stage at the front of the gym. People moved in the shadows, getting ready to announce the prom king and queen... and probably some more shitty speeches of how their youth was spent.

Tonight—contrary to what everyone spat at him—was his night, and it would be perfect. He just had to suck up his nerves before they got away from him.

The opportunity came only a few minutes later when the song 'After Midnight' stopped playing.

You had risen from your spot, carrying an empty red solo cup to the trash by the doors, a lingering smile on your face. Tonight was fun so far, an experience to reflect back on at least, too distracted by the sudden screech of the mic to notice König.

The principal came onto the stage with a smile, introducing and thanking everyone who had helped out with prom prep.

While you faced forward, trying to get a glimpse of the stage, König finally stood up with an air of confidence. Walking over to you standing by the wall, his cold blue eyes flickering to the neon exit signs and light switches next to you.

He stood a head over everyone else already, his form becoming muscular throughout the year, ready to finally enlist in the army after this.

After all this highschool shit was over.

The only reason people picked on him was because of the hood he wore over his face. Teased him because of the stutter he once had. And outcast him because he froze whenever someone said 'hi'.

His black boots kicked up a few balloons as he walked over to you, confetti sticking to his soles as he closed the distance.

You finally glanced up at him as he stepped close, offering a soft confused smile that made his heart nearly fall out of his throat.

"I... needed to tell-tell you something," he stammered, mentally berating himself for being so nervous. He was finally standing in front of you, and surprisingly, he kept his eyes trained on your face.

Your... face.

His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, even as the principal began to announce that they would call up the proms' king and queen. You were so fucking beautiful, the way the soft lights danced across your skin...

He couldn't afford to freeze up this time.

Slowly, you watched as the young man lifted a rough hand to his head, peeling away the sacred black mask from his face. Inch by inch, he was finally laid bare for only you to see, his back turned from the stage where everyone's attention was, effectively blocking your view too.

Your eyes widened slightly, probably confused as to what he was doing. What showing his face to you meant. Those heavenly orbs of yours flickering across his features, drinking in the details. A strong nose and jawline, those familiar somber eyes of his glaring back, his dirty blonde hair was falling awkwardly over his brow. His entire face was flushed red from embarrassment, but he couldn't have looked more sure of himself.

"I... I really-" he trailed off, boldly stepping forward. One of his large arms reaching past your head to cage you against the wall, able to peer down at your lips.

Its not like he couldn't say it- he loved you, more than anything. More than this school. More than himself. More than you could ever fucking comprehend.

König leaned down abruptly, your soft gasp stolen as his lips pressed insistently against yours. He nearly groaned, closing his eyes as he claimed what he had always wanted.

You eventually melted into him. The sudden tension in your body slowly relaxing... and his breath hitched as he felt you place a gentle hand on his chest to steady yourself.

He leaned in closer, effectively forcing your back to press against the cold stones of the gymnasium with another gasp. König took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, hesitantly parting his lips. His tongue meeting yours.

The way you breathed into him, heated with the taste of fruit on your tongue made his pants tighten again. A satisfied groan melting in his throat.

"And our prom King and Queen everyone!" The principal announced with a flourish, the spotlights of the stage suddenly centered on the most popular couple in the school.

This couldn't have been more perfect.

You nearly broke the kiss when König pushed his body flush against yours. His dark desire for the things he could never have suddenly bursting like a dam in his mind.

This was perfect.

He kept you pinned against the wall between his body, the cheers of the class roaring to life over the music for the voted prom 'royalty' who gushed and shared their own kiss on stage. The gymnasium suddenly filled with a blinding wave of silver and gold confetti.

At that moment, König's hand skidded across the wall, seeking the fire alarm switch. Flicking it on with one decisive motion.

Blood shot out from the sprinklers overhead, coating the entire dancefloor with slippery gore. Young men and woman alike screamed as the sirens blared over the music. The light from the disco ball fading as prom king and queen (and all their followers) were pelted in a rainstorm of warm blood.

You couldn't see what was happening around you. The young man in front of you effectively keeping you in place, keeping the horrors at bay, his icy blue eyes solely on you.

Blood dripped from his back, rolling down the sides of his face, painting a menacing picture as he grinned like a maniac... enjoying the sounds of people screaming-drowning in it and slipping over themselves to flee in their moment of panic.

"Götter..." he muttered, the crimson spraying lightly over your face before König blocked it again, "I love you, mien liebling," he finally confessed.

[17020]

CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'RE A MOTHER.

With no actual babies or children, you still manage to become a mother. The Blue Lock men have given you the gift of motherhood. Fem!Yn, some characters are missing i'm sorry.

A huge, colorful bouquet with tulips, roses, baby's breath, and lilies carefully sat on the coffee table inside your shared home. He was sitting on the couch behind it, a box of chocolates in hand, at his side lays the child you have spent the last few months caring for, wearing a party hat which was now crooked from its movement. Its tail wagged in excitement, and it sprung from its seat as you came near; your boyfriend pulling out a small card from behind the box.

"It's not much" he smiled, handing you the card, "but it's your first, and mine too." The card is beautiful, in the cover being an oddly shaped heart—drawn by him—filled with red glitter which had spread all around the card. Inside was a picture of the two of you, of the day in which you first saw your 'baby'.

It was nostalgic, the passage of time. What had started as a small, timid puppy was now the happiest, most brilliant canine the world had ever seen. The other side contained his handwriting, which spelled out a sentence you were once sure you would never hear at this point in your life. As if he had been reading your mind, he reads it aloud. "Happy Mother's Day, my love." Buckle up! A journey with a four-legged friend is one to cherish forever. With him, you are the proudest dog mom.

YOICHI ISAGI, Meguru Bachira, Rensuke Kunigami, Oliver Aiku, Jingo Raichi, Shido Ryusei (let's be honest, his hard would probably say "Happy day, ma"), Chris Prince.

A nice, candle-lit dinner is what awaits you at home. You stepped inside your apartment, and to your surprise, your lover is sat at your dinner table, arranged with a floral centerpiece, lit votive candles, freshly plated takeout (as he could not cook for the life of him), and a furry feline sitting on his lap. The cat's sparkly red collar had heart-shaped balloons tied to it, the balloon almost completely covering your boyfriend's peaceful expression.

"Happy Mother's Day, babe. (Cat's name) and I figured you'd like a family night to celebrate." He smiled, with you walking towards him and picking up your cat, cradling it in your arms. You placed a quick peck on its forehead, and your boyfriend excitedly pointed towards the seat on his side. On his side? There were three seats now—

"Since this is family night, (Cat's name) will be joining us. The catnip hasn't been served yet, I was waiting for you to come" he explained. You softly placed the feline on it's chair, earning a meow in return. Family dinner had gone by much too quick to your liking, the kitchen walls echoing with laughter as you and your boyfriend spent the rest of the night browsing clothes for your cat, sharing a few pecks now and then, because "moms need to replenish themselves with kisses." Congratulations on motherhood! With him, you will become the best cat mom.

REO MIKAGE, HYOMA CHIGIRI, Tabito Karasu, Jyubei Aryu, Rin Itoshi (though his affection would be much more reserved, we still love cat papa Rin), Eita Otoya.

He waited for you inside of your room, sitting on top of your desk. Beside him is an unfamiliar new decoration, a new accessory to your room. To him, though, it's much more than that. "You're back" he states, "I got you something while on the way home. This old lady was selling plants and I thought I'd get one for us, y'know? For our home."

Our home. It had such a nice ring to it, you thought. Taking a closer look at your desk, you noticed the small, brown pot with green growing out of it. It was a jade plant. You thanked him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into your embrace. Naturally, his arms wrapped themselves around your waist, with him burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You know what the lady told me?" he questioned, "She said this could be like our child." You could feel warm breath on your skin as he let out a small chuckle, with him pulling away to capture your lips into a sweet, quick kiss. "So, does this means we're parents now?" you asked, wiggling your eyebrows in excitement. He nods, "I bought some of your favorite sweets, y'know, to celebrate, I guess." His cheeks, as well as the tips of his ears, were now a familiar shade of pink. "Happy First Mother's Day, angel." As long as you take turns with him to water it, he's more than happy to make you a plant mom.

SHOEI BAROU, Nagi Seishiro (a sibling to Choki? mayhaps), Yo Hiori, Sae Itoshi (HEAR ME OUT.)

[natashaslesbian]

Little Prankster | N|M

Summary: You love playing pranks

Request: Blackhill x daughter pulling pranks on the avengers

Word Count: 839

Warnings/Content: one swear word

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Maria knew from day one of her pregnancy that you were going to be an active child, you never settled once in her stomach. Natasha would spend hours running her hand over her girlfriend’s bump but still you were tossing and turning “come on sweetie mommy’s trying to rest” she would say to your growing form. Even from the womb you would play ticks on your mothers, kicking your mom’s bladder enough for her to think she’d gone into labour, when in reality you’d just forced her to pee her pants.

Natasha didn’t believe Maria the day she actually went into active labour, she was convinced the brunette had just had another accident. It was a few hours until the widow finally realised you were on your way and she managed to get her girlfriend to the hospital just in time. The doctor said it was the quickest labour she’d ever witnessed, clearly you were very excited to join the world. You screamed the hospital down when you arrived, but to your moms, it was the best sound in the world.

You grew quickly in the avengers tower, always causing some kind of trouble. You were influenced heavily by your uncles, particularly Clint and Tony. You were a pawn in their prank war although you didn’t mind placing a whoopee cushion on Bruce’s chair. The tower was always filled with the sound of your laughter as you figured out a new way to wind up your family. Your best trick was the day you managed to call all of the avengers to a meeting then repeatedly changed the location from Tony’s laptop - he’s still not sure if he’s forgiven you for all the smack he got for that one.

Your moms weren’t the biggest fan of your pranks, however they couldn’t deny the fun they would have when you’d come running to them to help you with your sneaky ways. Natasha won’t ever forget the day you and her were hiding in the wardrobe, waiting to scare Maria when she came back from a run. “Shhh mama, you need to be quiet. No giggling!” You said with an adorably angry pout “sorry sweetie, I’m ready I promise” the redhead had said.

You smiled up at Natasha when you heard your mom enter the bedroom, the two of you knew the first thing she would do would grab some fresh clothes. You jumped out of the darkness as soon as Maria opened the wardrobe doors, your mom’s screams could be heard through the tower. “Oh you two!” Your mommy sighed as you tickled your stomach. “Sorry babe, I just couldn’t resist” Natasha laughed. “I’m so getting you back for that!” Maria laughed as well.

It was a week later when Maria came to you with her idea for getting back at Natasha, despite everyone knowing you were the true mastermind. Your eyes lit up at the chance to pull a new prank. You snuck into mamas office with precise movements, Maria following slowly behind you. “Ready baby, up we go” your mommy said as she lifted you up towards the ceiling fan, helping you too tie the balloons to the boards. “I’m done mommy” you said when you were satisfied with your work. “And now for the glitter” Maria said, you giggled as you watched her careful pour the tubes of sparkles on top of the fan.

“Mommy, mama’s coming I hear her!” You said when you heard the faint sounds of Natasha yelling at Tony about something. The two of you shuffled around in the dark, waiting beside the switch for the ceiling fan. “Next time I’ll decode Jarvis Tin man!” Your mom yelled just outside the door. You held back your giggles as you watched Natasha enter her office, you pulled on Maria’s shirt giving her the signal. Your mommy huffed a breath of relief at finally being alone as she turned on the light, at the same time Maria switched on the fan. “What the fuck!” Natasha yelled in surprise as Balloons fell from the ceiling and it began raining glitter.

“Language mama!” You laughed as you came running out to dance in the waterfall of your sparkles. Natasha sighed in relief when she realised she had just been pranked by her two favourite girls. “I’m sorry sweetie, you scared me!” She giggled. “Yay” you cheered. “I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap” Maria joked, coming to kiss her girlfriend “then I’ll help you decode Jarvis” she smiled. “Tony’s just being Tony” Natasha said.

Your moms watched as you continued to hold your own little party in the puddle of glitter. “This is gonna take forever to clean up” your mommy sighed with a wide smile “I know, but I just couldn’t resist” Maria said. “You know these pranks are only gonna get worse as she gets older right?” Natasha asked. “Yeah…but could we ever really be mad at her?” Maria said as she and your mommy looked back at you. “No. Never” Natasha agreed.

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A/N: Thank you for reading!

- Astara Bell

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[Taglist]

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904 / @strange-night-owl / @hatergirl-69

[slutty-transformation-stories]

Bimbocaine Part 2

Lydia's eyes narrowed as she studied the pouch of pink powder she had found in her friend's abandoned apartment. It was an unusual artifact amidst the clutter of forgotten textbooks and half-used makeup products. The material felt foreign to her, almost alive, as it shifted in her palm. She had brought it to the university's science lab, eager to understand the mystery it held.

Her curiosity piqued, Lydia carefully poured a small amount onto a slide. She had to admit, the color was quite lovely—like the inside of a seashell or a delicate shade of bubblegum. The fine, shimmering particles danced under the fluorescent lights as she carried the slide over to the microscope. The anticipation of discovery made her heart flutter, a sensation she hadn't felt in a long time.

Just as she was about to peer into the eyepiece, the lab door swung open, and a gaggle of her eager students spilled in. They surrounded her, bombarding her with questions about the upcoming exam and their latest projects. She held up a hand, the slide still in her other, and tried to explain that she was busy, but they were having none of it.

One particularly clumsy student named Jenna reached out to touch the pouch, her eyes wide with curiosity. "What's that, Professor?" she asked, her voice a high-pitched squeal that seemed to echo through the room.

Lydia sighed, but before she could respond, the pouch slipped from Jenna's grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. The seal gave way, and a cloud of pink glittery smoke erupted, enveloping the entire room. The students shrieked, and Lydia's heart skipped a beat as she realized what had just happened. The smoke smelled faintly of strawberries and vanilla, a scent that seemed to tickle her nostrils and make her head swim.

As the cloud began to dissipate, she noticed something peculiar. Each of the girls, one by one, started to transform. Their breasts ballooned to impossible sizes, pushing against their shirts like overfilled water balloons. Their asses inflated, stretching their pants until the fabric looked ready to tear. Their hair grew longer, a cascade of platinum blonde waves that flowed down their backs like a river of spun silk.

Their nails grew at an alarming rate, turning into sharp talons that clicked against the lab benches as they moved. Their faces took on a bitchy perfection, their lips curling into a perpetual snarl that seemed to dare the world to mess with them. The transformation was as mesmerizing as it was disturbing, and Lydia could do nothing but watch in shocked silence.

As the pink haze cleared, she looked down at her own body and felt a strange sensation. Her own breasts began to swell, pushing against her lab coat, and she gasped as her hips widened and her waist cinched in. Her reflection in the gleaming microscope showed a woman she hardly recognized: her once-professional attire now clung to a figure that was the epitome of a bimbo's dream. She felt lighter, more... confident, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders and replaced with a newfound sense of allure.

The giggles from her students grew louder, and she realized that they were all going through the same metamorphosis. They stumbled around the room, their eyes wide with excitement and disbelief as they examined their new figures in the glass panels of the lab cabinets. Each of them was now a mirror image of the other—platinum blondes with hourglass shapes that defied logic and gravity.

The room was filled with the sound of zippers being yanked down and buttons popping off as they struggled to free themselves from their suddenly-too-small clothing. The fabric tore away, revealing skin that gleamed with a glossy sheen under the harsh lights. The pink smoke had left a faint sparkle on their bodies, making them look as if they were dusted with the finest glitter.

Their laughter grew more manic, each giggle escalating into a full-throated cackle that echoed through the lab. The air was thick with a cocktail of the strawberry-vanilla scent and the heady perfume of their newfound sexuality. It was intoxicating, and even Lydia found herself smiling as she watched the young women prance around, their movements now more seductive than she had ever seen.

With a collective decision that seemed to resonate through the air, the group of busty bimbos made their way out of the lab and towards the university's exit. The hallways were a blur of pink smoke and glittery footsteps as they sashayed down the corridor, leaving a trail of bewildered onlookers in their wake. The transformation was complete, and the need to show off their new selves was palpable. They were drawn to the mall like moths to a flame, each step carrying them closer to a place where they could truly embrace their newfound bitchiness.

Once at the mall, they descended upon the first cosmetic counter they saw. The poor salesgirls didn't stand a chance against the onslaught of glammed-up scientists. They demanded the works: smoky eyes, lush lashes, and lips painted a shade of pink that matched the powder's explosive origin. The once-studious young women now moved with the grace of seasoned models, their hips swaying as they discussed the merits of different foundations and eyeliners.

Each bimbo picked out an outfit that screamed "look at me" from the racks of a high-end boutique. The clothes were tight and revealing, leaving little to the imagination. They paraded around in their new attire, their every move calculated to attract the maximum amount of male attention. And it worked. Heads turned, jaws dropped, and whispers followed them as they strutted down the mall's gleaming corridors.

Their transformations were complete, and they reveled in the power of their newfound sexuality. They were like a pack of lionesses on the prowl, each one more stunning than the last. Lydia felt a strange kinship with these young women she had once taught, now her sisters in glamour.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, they turned their sights to the club, a place that had once been a bastion of their youthful innocence. Now, it beckoned to them like a siren's call, promising a night of indulgence and debauchery. The bouncer's eyes widened as he took in the spectacle of six busty blondes dressed to kill, and with a nod of his head, they were granted entry without a second glance.

Inside, the bass thumped like a heartbeat, and strobe lights painted the walls in a chaotic dance of color. The air was thick with the scent of cologne and cheap perfume, a stark contrast to the delicate fragrance of strawberries and vanilla that lingered on their skin. The crowd parted for them like the Red Sea, all eyes drawn to their voluptuous figures and the aura of confidence that surrounded them like an invisible force field.

The club was a candy-coated wonderland of temptation, and they were the sweetest treat on display. The bartender, a young man with spiked hair and a smug smile, couldn't resist the allure of their new forms. He slipped them drinks, each one a little stronger than the last, and they giggled and flirted in return. Their laughter was like a siren song, drawing in a flock of eager men, all eager to taste the sweetness they exuded.

The first to approach was a businessman in a tailored suit, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and bewilderment. He stumbled over his words as he tried to charm them, his hand lingering a bit too long on Lydia's newly rounded hip. She felt a thrill at the touch, the fabric of her dress sticking to her skin as his hand slid away. The other girls were similarly accosted, each man's grip a little more daring than the last.

A beautiful blonde bimbo at the back of the club caught their attention, her outfit even more outrageous than their own. She beckoned them over with a wave of her hand, her nails glinting like diamonds in the disco lights. As they approached, Lydia noticed the name tag on her glittery top—it read "Barbie." The woman's smile was wide and welcoming, a knowing twinkle in her eyes that sent a shiver down Lydia's spine.

It was Anna, her friend from university who had once been a brooding goth with a penchant for dark poetry and a love for the macabre. The transformation was unmistakable yet unsettling. Anna's raven locks had been replaced with the same platinum waves as the rest of them, and her once solemn demeanor was now a caricature of cheerfulness.

"Welcome, my fellow bimbos," Anna purred, her voice now a breathy whisper that seemed to float on the air. "You're just in time for the main event."

Her words sent a ripple of excitement through the group. They huddled closer, eager to hear what she had to say. Anna leaned in, her massive breasts threatening to spill out of her tight dress as she whispered the details of their new lives. It seemed that the pink powder was not just a one-time transformation but a gateway to a world where beauty and brains were a potent cocktail of power.

Lydia felt a twinge of doubt, but it was quickly drowned out by the pulsing music and the electric energy of the club. The pink smoke had not only changed their appearances but also their personalities. They were no longer the shy, studious girls they once were. They had become creatures of the night, hungry for attention and validation from the men around them.

The night passed in a blur of flashing lights and groping hands. Each bimbo took turns disappearing into the crowded bathroom, returning with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. The scent of cheap cologne and sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sugary sweetness of the pink dust that still clung to them.

Lydia found herself in a dimly lit corner with a man who couldn't keep his hands off her new, voluptuous body. His touch was rough, but she didn't mind. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment her entire life. The feel of his calloused fingers on her skin sent shockwaves of pleasure through her. She leaned into his touch, her body moving instinctively to the rhythm of the music.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jenna, who had found a partner of her own. The young man looked like he had just won the lottery as he struggled to contain his excitement, his eyes ogling her newfound assets. Jenna giggled, her voice now a sultry purr that seemed to ooze confidence and sexuality. She leaned in close to Lydia, whispering into her ear, "Let's go, I know just the place."

The group of bimbos followed Jenna, their hips swaying in unison like a line of synchronized swimmers. The music grew louder, the lights brighter, and the men more brazen. Each girl was claimed by a different suitor, and they disappeared into the throbbing mass of bodies like droplets of water in a storm. Lydia felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation as she was led away by her chosen man.

In the cramped backseat of a sports car, Lydia's mind raced. This wasn't her usual scene—far from it. But as the man's hand found her thigh, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement. His touch was firm, possessive, and she found herself leaning into it. The pink dust had transformed her into someone new, someone who didn't need to think about the consequences of her actions.

The car pulled up to a sleek, modern mansion that looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a high-fashion magazine. The party inside was already in full swing, a cacophony of laughter and bass that vibrated through the walls. The air was thick with the scent of wealth and desire, and as they stepped out of the car, the other bimbos were immediately drawn to it.

They strutted up the driveway, their heels clicking like a chorus line of dominatrixes. The door swung open, revealing a grand foyer with a sweeping staircase that beckoned them to ascend into the heart of the debauchery. They were greeted by a sea of men in suits, their eyes devouring the bimbos like hungry wolves spotting fresh prey.

The mansion was a playground of opulence, each room more decadent than the last. Red velvet couches, gleaming chandeliers, and walls lined with gold-framed mirrors reflected the pink glow of their skin. It was a place where inhibitions were left at the door, and the only currency was beauty and desire.

Lydia and her bimbo entourage were led upstairs to a suite that looked like a set from a music video. A king-sized bed, big enough to accommodate their inflated forms, sat in the center, surrounded by plush pillows and silk sheets. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket, and the air was heavy with the scent of more pink dust, hinting at the night's true intentions.

The man who had claimed her wasted no time, his hands roaming her new body with a sense of entitlement that sent a shiver of excitement down her spine. His touch was rough, his intentions clear, but she found herself craving the validation it brought. The other couples paired off around the room, the sounds of passion and pleasure rising like a symphony of lust.

The bimbos were in their element, their every move calculated to ensnare the men around them. The mansion was a fortress of sin, each room a testament to the power of their newfound sexuality. They were the queens of this domain, and the men were their willing subjects.

As the night progressed, the transformations grew more pronounced. The pink dust had not only altered their physical forms but had also imbued them with an irresistible allure that seemed to corrupt everyone they touched. The men who had brought them here were now under their spell, eager to do their bidding, to give them anything they desired.

The next morning, the bimbos woke up feeling more alive than ever. They looked at themselves in the mirrors that adorned the walls of the suite, admiring their new figures and the glint of power in their eyes. The town was their oyster, and they were the pearls inside, ready to be discovered.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

[rrrrinmaru]

bury me (raf x mc, nsfw)

wc: 3949 rating: E warning: pussy eating, strip tease

Up until the moment you’re sat in the entertainment room that’s apparently been renovated on emergency notice, you don’t quite believe the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

It started as an off-handed comment you didn’t think much of. Frankly, you didn’t think anything of it—the two of you were watching a movie (ok, Magic Mike, it was Magic Mike) and you mentioned, casual as ever, that you’ve always wanted to see a lap dance up close. 

Rafayel went still. But Rafayel goes still at the strangest things—he once froze up at the sight of you petting a cat on the sidewalk and fell to the ground right next to the fire hydrant, in broad view of everyone walking down that very pavement—so again, you didn’t think much of it. Maybe he wanted to see a lap dance up close as well. Maybe, irrationally, he got a little jealous at the thought of you thinking of watching other men grind against flushed women, eyes bright as they watch the sheen of sweat on thick muscles centimetres away from their face. 

You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect—

“You spent how much on the lights?” You ask, bewildered. “You got these custom made?”

“I wasn’t about to install cheap LED lights in my house,” Rafayel replies, fiddling with something in the corner. “The cost doesn’t matter. The real expensive baby was the audio system, but I already owned that before I got the bright idea to remodel this place.”

“You spent money to turn a room in your house into a strip club?” You say, voice slightly hysterical on the last two words. You almost don’t want to know the answer to your next question, but things have already progressed far enough. There’s no coming back from this. “Where’s the stripping pole?”

Rafayel shrugs. He’s wearing this thin, sheer fabric; so pale it’s almost transparent. It clings to the width of his shoulders, dipping down between the slope of his shoulder blades and the top tapers off at his waist. When he turns around, you can’t help but stare at the (quite frankly) whorish cut at the front. 

The front of the shirt has this deep plunge all the way down to his abdomen. It’s practically two strips of fabric loosely folded over each other, and if he bends over, you get a full view of the hard planes of his chest and the curve of his tits. 

He’s also wearing leather pants. Did you mention that? They look like they were painted on. The material stretches tight over his thighs, making him look even taller than he already does. 

His feet are bare, toes curling into the rug covered floor. Rafayel stands there, weight shifted to one leg as he always does, and he practically preens under your undivided attention. Under your greedy, hungry gaze as you run your eyes up and down his body. 

Behind him, the stereo system flares to life. This persistent, thumping drum beat slowly starts to build.

“Can’t we just—you know?” You say without thinking, leaning forward instinctively at the thought of getting your mouth on Rafayel. Has he even looked in a mirror before he decided on this particular set of clothes?

Rafayel smirks. Fuck, you swear you can see the literal imprint of his cock through his pants. 

“Not yet,” he murmurs, voice honeyed as he takes his sweet time to walk over to you, that casual, loping stride that you can’t look away from. “Be patient.”

“This is the first time you’ve turned down my offer,” you say petulantly. “Please?”

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part,” Rafayel says, eyes glittering as he leans over. His hands land on the back of the curved sofa you’re seated on—they frame you like a solid wall of muscle, caging you in his embrace. His legs are on either side of your thighs, close enough that you swear you can feel the kiss of leather against your skin, the sheer heat radiating off his body. 

The beat is loud, now. It’s loud enough that it sounds like you’re at a club; it sinks through your chest, filling your body up like a balloon as it seizes your senses. Your heart pulses in time with the heavy, throbbing bass—you stare up, eyes wide as all you hear is the sound of your heart and all you see is Rafayel’s eyes. 

You could drown in that gaze. You know you could. 

“No touching,” Rafayel breathes out. When he bends over, cheek barely milimetres away from your own, your breath hitches at the view down his shirt. “First rule of the club, Miss. No touching the performers.”

“Raf,” you whine, fingers curling desperately into fists by your side as you trace your eyes over the curve of his Adam’s Apple, the crook of his shallow collarbone, the slope of his tits and the fucking sight of his nipples, pebbling from the cold. You want to flick them. You want to put your hands on his abdomen and cup his tits and you want to mess him up. 

“It’s better when you wait for it,” Rafayel murmurs. His breath is hot against the crook of your ear, and you can feel the break in his breathing when he laughs. “Do you like this?”

“Do something,” you whine, tilting your head back just to get a better look at the lithe line of Rafayel’s body hovering over yours. It’s driving you insane, having him this close but not touching—you’ve been conditioned to expect skin contact from Rafayel, his little absent-minded touches as he grazes his shoulder against yours, a hand curving around your waist to gently nudge you aside when he walks by, fingers wrapping around yours. 

When he exhales, you swear you can see it. The shadow of smoke in the dim light, swooping down in the empty space between both of your lips. It’s maddening having him here, having this sliver of space between you two. You could reach up around his waist and drag him down; you could wrap one hand around the base of his neck and pull and he would go, sweetly, obediently, and he would make the most delicious sounds into your mouth. 

You know this. You know it like you know the back of your hand, because he’s done it a million times before. You think you’ve never known anyone as well as you know Rafayel—like looking into a deep pool of still water and finding your reflection looking back. 

Rafayel hums, the heat of his breath scattering over your collarbones as he rolls his hips. You swallow, mind spinning from the slightest scrape of tight leather against your thighs. He does it again, hips grinding in this slow, torturous move right above your core.

“Your muscles,” you say weakly, eyes riveted to the tension in his abdomen. His muscles are taut, pale skin clearly visible through the dip in his shirt. A bead of sweat drips down, tracing a path between his pectorals and down, down, down—

Your eyes follow it greedily, wishing you could chase after it with your tongue. 

“You look delirious,” Rafayel whispers, his voice low and hoarse. There’s a husk to his words, and you can’t help the way you swallow, fingers tightening further into fists. You’re familiar with that voice. That’s how he sounds after he’s been worked up beyond belief, until all he can think of is laying you out and eating you clean. 

This is clearly doing it for him too, just as much as it’s working on you. The lights flicker, bleeding from one color into the next. It’s crazy how Rafayel looks bewitching in every color; the neon red light looks like crimson splashed across his face, highlighting the cut of his cheekbone and the glint of his teeth when he smirks at you. The blue light casts his face into darkness, smoothing his features out and the shadow stretches over him, the color melting into his hair. He looks like a siren rising out of a water surface, eyes half-lidded and lips barely parted, fingers itching to steal your soul away. 

You’re possessed by the sudden desire to dump a glass of water on him. This look would be greatly improved if he was drenched to the bone, you think dizzily, with crystal droplets hanging off his eyelashes, dipping in the crook of his lips, pooling in his clavicle. His shirt, translucent as it is, would turn completely transparent. It would cling to his skin even more than it already does. 

“Please,” you beg, not even sure what you’re begging for. His hands on you. His mouth on you. His weight on you, pressing you down, holding you in place as he does whatever he wants to your body. 

His smirk is so self-satisfied that you want to kiss it off his lips. 

“Patience,” he murmurs. Rafayel braces his knees against the seat of the couch and leans back, wearing a brazen look as he looks at you. His smile spreads as he crooks his fingers at you—you bend forward, lips parting as if ready to use your tongue to trace the grooves on his abdomen.

Rafayel laughs. It’s a smug sound, but you can’t even fault him. He cuts a stunning figure like this, thighs spread and framed in shining leather, shirt so low and open that you don’t know where to look; the light drips over his skin like someone poured liquid gold all over him, drenching him in a moving pattern of red and blue lights. 

He holds a hand out. “Your hand,” he says, and you quickly put your palm in his like you’re no better than a dog. 

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel teases, flipping your hand over to press a kiss to your fingertips before he pulls it to his jaw. You flex your fingers, trying to swallow past the sudden thudding of your heart as he presses your hand to the slant of his jaw, down to the line of his neck. 

You’re not given any time to linger on the heat radiating off his body. He pulls your hand further down, your fingers grasping uselessly at the meat of his chest, trembling as your palm flattens against his skin. 

And then, as if he’s been doing this all his life, Rafayel arches his back. His muscles roll in this slow, sinuous movement as he drags your hand down his abdomen. 

You can feel it in aching clarity. The expanding of his rib cage as he breathes, the tension in his muscles as he clenches his abdomen to even out the grind of his hips. The heat, that absurd, blistering heat that you’re certain will melt your fingerprints clean off your fingers. 

He does it again. Leans forward, eyes glittering in the flickering lights as he arches his back, letting you feel the way his muscles move under his skin as he rolls his hips. 

Without thinking, you reach forward with your other hand. You’re not even sure where you’re aiming at—you just want to get your hand on him. The details can be handled later. 

But Rafayel catches your wrist before your fingers even scrape past the loose material of his shirt. “No touching the merchandise,” he chides, holding you in place.

Your fingernails scratch pointedly at his abdomen. It makes him huff out a laugh—a surprised, breathy sound that for some reason gives you the urge to get your mouth on him now. 

“I’m already touching you,” you breathe out, eyes glazing over when Rafayel clenches his abs just to watch the way you lose focus. 

“I let you touch me,” Rafayel shoots back, smug as ever. “You don’t get to touch me without permission.”

“Raf—”

“Just enjoy it, Miss,” he murmurs, nudging one knee in between yours to slide your thighs apart. “I’m putting on a show. Don’t you like it?”

You like it a bit too much. All of a sudden, you realise why people like to keep pretty things in cages. Rafayel would look entrancing like that, you think, eyes wandering over his body. Lounging in a long column of water with transparent walls, like a fish tank in an aquarium large enough to store a whole pod of dolphins. Stuck with no where to go. 

But your breath catches in your throat before you can reply with something intelligent. Rafayel presses his lips to the underside of your neck, at the spot where your jaw meets your throat—featherlight, so quickly that you almost miss it.

While you’re frozen, breath trapped under your tongue, he hums and traces a faint path down your body. His lips on your neck, your collarbones, the dip between your tits—he leans down, switching to your bare arm when the fabric of your slip dress gets in the way. 

Surely he can feel it. The pulse of your heartbeat under your skin, a mile a minute, fluttering at the sight of his half-crescent lips trailing against the sensitive underside of your forearm. 

And then he gets on his knees. He’s right there, eyes bright and glittering like jewels under the dancing lights as he leans forward to press the side of his cheek against your thigh. 

You can feel the way his breath heats up against your knee. It feels like he’s burning a mark into you, etching the shape of his lips into your skin. You won’t ever be able to remove it. It’ll be branded into your inner thigh, the crimson half-moon stains that mark you as his.

“Spread your legs for me,” Rafayel whispers, lips curving into a smile. “Open up, baby.”

The flush in your cheeks feels absurd. You must look drunk, inebriated after one too many shots as your thighs spread instinctively to frame Rafayel in between them. He reaches up, each hand wrapping around the outside of your knees, fingers dipping into the crook at the back.

His grip is light, barely any pressure on your legs, but you feel like his hands may as well be two shackles against your knees, holding you in place. 

“Wider,” he says, eyes brilliant in the flickering lights. You could drown in that gaze, if the heat in your core didn’t kill you first. “Come on, gorgeous.”

“Raf,” you groan, thighs spreading even further. It makes you slip from your position on the sofa, inching further down just to make space for your legs to open wider.

The fabric of your dress rucks up around your hips. It folds messily, and Rafayel holds your gaze in this heartstopping, torturous moment as his fingers creep up and under your dress.

There’s something about it. Something you can’t explain, not even with an entire dictionary at your disposal. There is something about the way you can’t see his fingers, his palms as he slides them further up your thighs, below the crease of silk. The way the back of his hands and his wrists slowly, gradually disappear under your dress. While he keeps his gaze on you, eyes burning with such intent and desire it makes you breathless. 

His fingers bump up against your underwear,  the way the fabric digs into your thighs. The shock of it all makes you yelp a little, hands flying forward to feel blindly for Rafayel’s hands under your dress.

You’re not sure what purpose you want to achieve. You’re just—it’s just—it’s just a lot, okay, and the way he looks at you is so—

Rafayel doesn’t do anything. His fingers go still, frozen under your grip, but you can feel the bracing heat of them through the thin fabric of your underwear. Your damp underwear. If his fingers were to slip, you know he would be able to press his thumb against the wet spot right at your slit, or slide higher to press at your throbbing clit. 

You make this low, reedy noise, and let go of his hands. You shift even lower on the sofa, back curved as you lean your head back against the headrest. Your thighs spread just a little bit wider. 

“Thank you, baby,” Rafayel murmurs, eyes finally lowering as he lifts the skirt of your dress. “Look at how pretty you are.”

“Get on with it,” you bite out, voice shaky from arousal. The music is getting to you—the deep, pulsing bass throbs at your temples, holding your heart in a vice grip. The singer is crooning something; his deep, low voice rumbling on and on about sex and you’re too out of it to properly register the lyrics. 

Rafayel pays you no mind. He takes his own sweet time to push your dress further up your hips, exposing the line of your thighs and your underwear to his hungry gaze. 

And then, right under your eyes, he leans in and presses a kiss to your stiff clit.

“Raf!” You try to shut your thighs on instinct, hips jerking at the sudden pressure against your clit, but Rafayel’s hands are firm against the inside of your thighs and he holds you open. He forces your legs wider, and he looks up at you as he fits his mouth to the middle of your panties, tongue flat against where your core burns the hottest. 

Fuck, you think, mouth open as you try to gasp for air. Rafayel is good at this—too good, you think, to the point where you flush when you catch yourself staring at his mouth for too long sometimes—and he breathes out on your cunt, relishing in the way your clit twitches in your panties.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Rafayel murmurs, pulling the fabric taut over your pussy so he can see your swollen clit straining through your panties. He gives it another kiss, and you arch your back at the electricity that lights your body up when he does that. Rafayel knows what you like, and he wields that knowledge like a weapon. 

You gaze at him, eyes half-lidded as you try to reach for his hair. Rafayel ducks away from your searching fingers, giving you a smile when you scowl at him.

“No touching the merchandise,” he reminds you. 

A disgruntled noise leaves your mouth. How are you supposed to hold him in place when he won’t let you touch him? “Take them off, Raf, please—”

It’s as if Rafayel was put on this Earth specifically to raise your blood pressure. Even when he has his mouth on your cunt, face between your legs, he’s still possessed by the overpowering urge to do something that goes against what you say. 

“Not yet,” he says, nonplussed, and drags your underwear to the side to expose your dripping center. “Look at how wet you are.”

Rafayel’s voice is gravelly, hoarse as he stares at you. Your pussy clenches instinctively—his gaze feels heavy, like a physical weight bearing into you. You’d really like a physical weight bearing into you right now, actually, and you know exactly where you can find one.

He presses his tongue to your clit. Your hips spasm, eyes rolling into the back of your head when he closes his lips around your swollen bud and sucks. It feels like fire burning through your entire body, pleasure sparking in your veins when he laps at your clit. You could cum like this, his clever tongue working your clit over and over in the soft wetness of his mouth. 

“So pretty,” Rafayel murmurs to himself, not even caring if you hear. He drags his tongue down, licking along the length of your cunt, spit mixing with the wetness dripping from your pussy. He rearranges his grip on your inner thigh—his palm frames the vee of your hips now, thumb pulling at the side of your cunt to open you up for his taking. 

Rafayel eats you out like a man possessed. There’s this wild, desperate hunger in him, in the way he moves his mouth, the way he surfaces to gasp for air before going back to dip his tongue into your pussy and lick at your insides. He eats you out so greedily that you can truly believe he would be happy here, trapped between your legs and buried in your cunt for so long he goes breathless while you go cross-eyed with pleasure so overwhelming it makes you dizzy.

“Fuck,” Rafayel groans, panting against your cunt. His breath feels like he’s blowing hot smoke against your clit, making it twitch uncontrollably with every gust of air over it. You’re so worked up that just this is enough to make your hips jerk forward, chasing the ghost of his mouth to try to get it back on your cunt. “You taste so fucking good, Miss—”

“More,” you beg, straining against the sofa to try to get leverage, any kind of leverage to tilt your hips up. “Please, Raf, I’m close—fuck, I’m—”

This time, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He moves his head, tongue curling as he fucks it into your throbbing pussy. You’re so close, right on the precipice—it’s like your entire body is a livewire, hips jerking uncontrollably whenever his tongue hits that sweet spot and making your nerves light up with pleasure. It’s a struggle to keep your eyes open; you want to keep your eyes on Rafayel, to see the way his curls bounce as he mouths hungrily at your cunt. But the pleasure is so devastating, so mind-numbing that you can’t help the way your eyes flutter shut, your body unable to concentrate on more than one sensation at once. 

Your clit is so stiff that it aches. And when Rafayel licks at it, flicking his tongue against your swollen clit and relishing in the desperate, needy sounds falling from your mouth—

It crescendos like a tsunami wave rising to its peak. Your body freezes, mouth falling open as you arch your back, pushing up, up, up against Rafayel’s tongue. It spreads through you like a wildfire, burning you up from the inside out. Your mind is blank, you can’t think, you can’t even make a sound. 

You just gasp, silent as the orgasm crashes over you like the tide, taking you under and drowning you beneath the water. Rafayel keeps fucking going, sucking at your clit to keep you right on that knife’s edge, pleasure melting into overstimulation because he knows you like it when it aches. When it becomes a little biting, when it starts to hurt just a little. 

He laps at your clit until you shiver, hands weakly pressing against his forehead. Rafayel gives your cunt one last lick, sucking at the lips of your pussy and licking his lips when he catches your gaze. 

“All done?” He asks, reaching up to wipe the visible remnants of your orgasm from his jaw. “Another one?” 

“I want to suck your cock,” you say, the breath still mostly fucked out of you. “Come—come here.”

“Nuh-uh,” Rafayel tells you, rising back to his feet. The music is still thumping through the walls, resounding in the room as you tilt your head back and stare up at him. “I’m not done. It isn’t a strip show until I’ve gotten naked.”

You blink at him. He still—

“Okay,” you say uselessly. You can see the thick outline of his cock through his pants, so visible that you’re almost certain the leather will burst. “Go on.” 

He gives you this smug, confident smile, and you politely don’t mention how the bottom half of his mouth is still wet from your cum. 

==

© rrrrinmaru 2024 | no unauthorised publication or reproduction allowed

[dawn-moths]

"Birthday Wishes"

Undertaker x Female Reader

word count: 3,700+

(@fanfictionsworld requested: spending your birthday with Undertaker from my Cause to Start a Vendetta AU.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff with some smut at the end, oral sex (reader receiving), use of the word “Daddy”, reader is called “princess, baby, sweetheart”.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You’d been counting down the days for weeks now, your birthday circled on the calendar with a big pink glitter gel pen heart several times over, every day crossed off that crawled closer to the day— your day— making you more and more excited.

Because, as you’d quickly grown accustomed to being spoiled by Undertaker— special occasion or otherwise— your birthday was no exception to being showered with all the love and luxury he had at his disposal.

“Morning, princess…” he cooed, gently smoothing down some of your sleep-tousled hair with a big, cool palm, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you blinked open beary eyes, wrapped in his arms and the many layers of blankets that twisted and tangled about your bodies sprawled across the bed.

“Morning, Daddy…” you replied, voice soft and delicate as the lingering dredges of slumber clung to your tone, an angelic little grin curving up on your sweet lips as you nuzzled closer into Undertaker’s chest, seeking out his elusive warmth.

For a moment, nearly forgetting what today was as you drifted in and out of consciousness, your figure filling with the heavy weight of sleep once more, your eyelids fluttered closed and your breathing began to turn slow and shallow. Undertaker rubbed a hand up and down your back, stirring you back to the waking world and smiling to himself as you let out a big yawn, nose scrunching adorably with the expression.

“If you want to go back to sleep,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your nose and causing a fragile giggle to bubble up in your chest, “I won’t stop you. But that would certainly be a shame when we have so many fun things on our to-do list today.”

That was enough to entice you, your mind suddenly much more alert than before, and you snaked your arms up to gently rest over his shoulders. “Just a few more minutes…” you said, pressing yourself even closer to him, wishing you could bask in the safety of his touch forever. “Then I promise I’ll get up.”

A smooth, sonorous chuckle vibrated through his bones, the sound warming you from the inside out like hot milk and honey. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, allowing himself to melt back to a more relaxed state as well. “Just a few more minutes…”

As the sun crept further through the cracks of the curtains, bright beams painting the ornate master bedroom with thin strokes of gold, stirring up the wispy clouds of dust motes swirling through the air, Undertaker coaxed you into finally rising, draping one of his big, fluffy black robes over your shoulders when you became burdened with a chill, the mansion’s usual temperature kept low upon his preference.

Once your feet were dressed in your favorite pair of fluffy socks and even fluffier slippers, you took Undertaker’s hand and let him guide you down the wide halls to the curving staircase, heading towards the kitchen where you could already smell your special birthday breakfast.

The long dining table was decorated to the nines with all kinds of balloon bouquets and bundles of black and white roses overflowing from crystal vases. Spelled out in gold glitter confetti at one end of the display was HAPPY BIRTHDAY, PRINCESS punctuated by a big heart. At the other was a full selection of all your breakfast favorites— souffle pancakes piled high with bananas and melty chocolate chips, strawberry french toasts drizzled with sticky maple syrup and sprinkled with a frosty snowfall of powdered sugar, fluffy scrambled eggs and yogurt parfaits and fruit arranged by color.

You sucked in a gasp of delight, hands clasped before your chest as you eagerly surveyed the scene, looking up at your Daddy like he’d outdone himself.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he said, extending a hand towards the chair at the head of the table— his usual chair, the master’s chair, the dining room’s throne— and pulling it out for you to sit in, taking the seat adjacent to it to join you in the morning’s sugary culinary experience.

Over the meal— you choosing a bit of everything to pile onto your plate in an orderly array, because why should you have to choose just one when today you could have whatever your little heart desired— you and Undertaker began to discuss the day’s itinerary.

There was a packed schedule planned indeed— a shopping outing at all your most beloved designer stores, afternoon tea at the Ritz, exploring some of the artsy nooks and crannies of the city and dropping into your favorite bookstore all before hopping on the Aurora Society’s private jet and taking the hour and a half flight to your favorite five star restaurant in Paris, sure to end the evening by enjoying your usual penthouse suit of the expensive hotel that gave the best view among any of the establishments around.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” Undertaker slyly prompted just as you were about to head upstairs to get changed and ready for the events ahead, thoughts already spinning trying to decide what you wanted to wear. You stopped and considered him with an adorably cute expression for a moment until he pulled a big gift bag from under the table where he’d hidden it from you, the glossy black packaging stuffed with glittering silver tissue paper and two perfect satin ribbons serving as the handles. “You know,” he shrugged as he slid it towards you on the table, drinking in your awe, never growing tired of how easily you seemed to be innocently surprised sometimes, “just in case you felt like going out in something new.”

Carefully, as if the wrapping itself was just as valuable as the gift, you plucked the sparkling tissue paper away to uncover the pristinely wrapped box beneath, a marbling of glossy and matte black swirling over the decorative paper like ink dropped into water. The moment the first half of your favorite clothing brand’s name was visible to you, you shot him a glance, as if to say, “you shouldn’t have” despite believing down to your very core that you deserved every expensive, extravagant thing that Undertaker placed in your cute little lap.

Once you lifted the garment from where it had been perfectly folded within its box, holding it up to your body as if to sample how it would look before trying it on, you heard Undertaker sigh, a dreamy, lilting hum tailing off the end of it. “Exquisite…” he remarked, and you now held the dress out from your body, studying the intricate craftsmanship that had been hand stitched into the garment as you smiled to yourself, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “It really is.”

But then Undertaker was by your side, having moved soundlessly, his even stride gliding across the short distance to meet you. “I wasn’t talking about the dress,” he murmured, big hands settling on your hips. “Now, why don’t you head upstairs and start getting ready.”

You turned your face up to his, met his lips when he was close enough for a kiss, and muttered out a sweet little, “Thank you, Daddy,” before following his instruction and heading for the staircase.

He watched you go, saw the skip in your step as you ventured off, only returning to clearing the table once you disappeared down the long second story hallway and out of his view. He was going to look forward to taking that dress off of you later, unwrapping you like his own special gift by the time night draped itself over the sky.

***

The afternoon had been like a dream, you and your lover floating from one location to the next to try on extravagant clothing and sample imported teas, the two of you practically waltzing through the downtown streets where you longed to see what new installments the local London artists put up around the city before you’d lost track of time perusing your favorite bookstore, a good two hours going by without you even noticing as you strategically searched for the next story to get yourself hooked on.

But as the sky began to fade from blue to gold, it signaled that dinner was soon approaching, which meant you two had a plane to catch if you wanted to arrive to your reservation on time.

The hostess greeted you two with a friendly smile, addressing you both by name, the entire restaurant staff made familiar with London’s most notorious boss and the beautiful girl who was always on his arm, Undertaker making short, lighthearted conversation with the manager in French while they crossed paths on the walk to your usual table, the man chuckling at something your Daddy had said, forever able to charm anyone if he set his mind to it, it seemed.

As you both enjoyed the delicacies of the six course meal, you continued to talk and laugh, never running out of topics to converse about, though tonight you were most excited to tell him all about the book you’d recently finished and your expectations for the new one you’d chosen on your earlier excursion, having heard nothing but praise for the acclaimed tale.

Once the horizon had lost its lilac blush and sunk deep into the velvet navy of nightfall though, you knew you were just about to enter into yet another phase of your luxurious birthday festivities.

***

You could smell the roses from down the hall before the doors to your hotel suite in Paris even opened. The entirety of the three connected rooms were decked from floor to ceiling in at least one hundred thousand dollars worth of florals, vibrant reds and sultry blacks, flawless creams and even a dash of lovely soft pinks.

You could’ve cried at how gorgeous it all was, blinking the mist from your eyes as you spun in slow circles about the place, taking it all in. Undertaker’s hands found your shoulders to steady you, stopping your awestruck turns to face the beautiful birthday cake on the hotel room’s center table, the special dessert shaped like a heart and iced in a rainbow of your favorite colors, several candles placed strategically on the top and already lit, small flames glowing and beckoning you over to make a wish.

But what could you possibly wish for when you already had everything you’d ever want or need— a gorgeous man who loved you, showering you in every stunning thing life had to offer, as simple as the snap of his fingers or a wave of his hand— besides to continue living this blessed life that had found its way to you, through trial and tribulation?

Taking a few steps forward towards the cake, you choked out through a shaky breath, “Oh my god…” unable to hold back your tears any longer, a few sparkling drops running down your cheeks, glittering like gold as they caught the amber of the flickering firelight. You looked back at Undertaker, who was not far behind you, and wondered if you’d ever be able to convey how much this all meant to you. It almost seemed unfair. He’d always be able to do more for you than you would for him, though he never seemed to mind.

For him, just having you— his sweet, precious baby girl to dote on and adore as much as he pleased— was far more than enough. All you had to do was exist. All you had to do was be his.

“Well, go on,” he lightly urged, a calm smile playing at the corner of his lips as he gestured towards the center table. “The candles won’t blow themselves out, now will they?”

You smiled, big and bright, and let out a sound that could only be described as pure joy. Undertaker was addicted to that sound, the way it rang out like the delicate jingle of bells, the way it warmed him like the sun’s rays after so much rain. It made everything he’d ever done, good, bad, or somewhere in between, all worth it. Just to see you smile at him like that, just to hear you laugh. Just to know it was him who’d been the orchestrator of such emotions.

And as you let out a strong gust of a breath, turning each melting birthday candle from flame to smoke, you realized you did have one wish you wanted to make afterall.

Let things be like this forever, you thought to yourself, like a silent prayer. Let us stay as in love for the rest of our lives as we are right now, in this moment.

Undertaker cut the cake, a piece for you and a piece for him, and then the two of you sat by the counter outlooking the spotless floor to ceiling windows that gave way to the sprawling view of the City of Light, the night sky clear and sparkling with little bursts of silver stars overhead.

You talked and joked and laughed while you both enjoyed your dessert, your chair pressed right next to his, close enough that you could lean your head over to rest against the side of his shoulder while his arm slung across your back, hugging you closer to him, his most cherished treasure.

“You know…” you began, gazing dreamily out the window at the romantic scene the city offered. Then, casting him a glance from where you were nestled into his side, you said, “I think this might really be the best birthday ever.”

Something in his eyes softened a shade then, and in response Undertaker lightly took your chin between his lithe fingers, tilting your mouth just ever so slightly upwards so he could lean down to meet it. You hadn’t expected the kiss, languid and savoring at first as you parted your lips to let him in, both of you tasting like your favorite flavor of cake, soon turning more hungry, having you straddling his lap and blinded by the blissful haze that was slowly filling you from the inside out.

When he finally broke away, leaned back just far enough to look you in the eyes, gently wiping the cool pad of his thumb across the plush of your bottom lip, glossy from your mingled saliva, a weak attempt to clean you up a bit, he said, “I guess that means I’ll have to go above and beyond next year,” and you laughed and nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you felt yourself relax over him.

“No, but really…” you murmured. “Thank you, Daddy. For everything. Always.”

All you got as a warning for what happened next was a low, lilting chuckle humming in his chest before he was hoisting you up, big hands splayed against the backs of your thighs as he began to carry you elsewhere in the suite.

“Where are we going?” you playfully asked, though you already had a pretty good idea.

“There’s still a few hours until midnight,” he remarked, a new kind of vigor in his voice and stride. He set you down on the edge of the king-sized bed, beginning to shrug off his jacket and tug his belt buckle free of its loops as he added, “Which means your birthday’s not over yet, princess.”

The smirk that spread across his face then made that fluttering creature resting in your lower belly roll over inside of you, beginning to wake, soon asking to be satisfied like a dog scratching at the door begging for treats, relentless until it was given its desired reward. It wasn’t long before Undertaker was hooking his grip under your thighs again, pulling you further down the bed where he then knelt at the foot of it.

You gave him an uncertain and slightly suspicious look as he flicked his emerald gaze up to meet yours. Usually, he liked to undress you, strip you down piece by piece before ridding himself of his own clothing, admiring every inch of your bare body like it was the most masterful work of art. Then he’d pin you down, his prized butterfly, and get to work at soaking both your bodies with pleasure before wringing them dry, squeezing you for every last lustful drop he could.

But tonight— on your night— he figured he’d do things a little differently. Give you one last birthday surprise before the clock struck twelve.

“Just relax, sweetheart…” he cooed, carefully bunching your new dress up around your waist, exposing the expensive lace clinging to the most delicate parts of you and drinking in the sight like it rivaled even that of the one just beyond the windows. “Let Daddy make you feel good…”

Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the soft raise of your lower belly, and you felt your tight little hole futter and your sensitive bud pulse as he slowly removed your panties, your already damp core causing them to cling to you a moment before the cool air sighed against your damp slit.

Undertaker ran a long finger through your dewy folds, making your next breath catch as he slipped it inside of you to gather more of your slick before rubbing it against your puffy clit, already swollen with arousal, pulling one of those adorable whines from your throat as you lay one arm over your eyes, the other sprawled out across the bed, little fingers twisting into the sheets, trying to grab hold of anything while you still had the chance.

“That’s it, baby…” he praised, helping to spread you wider for him, a leg thrown over one of his broad shoulders as he continued to tease you. His next words sent a puff of his warm breath against your cunt, and you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, exhaling a shuddering sigh. He whispered, “I’m gonna take good care of you, baby,” and when he licked a flat-tongued stripe up your pussy, you let out a soft, broken whine, back already beginning to arch a little at the sinfully sweet feel of him.

Undertaker was skilled at a lot of things— running a business, making money, getting away with murder— but the thing you thought he was best at, above all else, was pleasuring you.

It was effortless, the way he knew exactly what to do that made you body bend to his command, melting your mind until all you knew was the press of his hips or the wet warmth of his mouth, the indents of his teeth, his fingerprints, all of it branded into you so no matter where you looked on your own body there would be a reminder of him, like a promise, a gift.

You were clenching the silky sheets in your trembling fist as he speared his tongue into you, his sharp nose nudging against your clit every time and forcing moan after delicious, high-pitched moan out of you like that was the only sound you’d ever known how to make. If he thought your laugh was syrupy sweet, then your moans were something else entirely, something far more addicting or satisfying than sticky, sickly sweet sugar. More like a drug to him, making him addicted in a way that, once he got a taste, he couldn’t stop. Not until you had nothing left to give, his pursuit at seeing just how far or how long he could make you go merciless time and time again.

“P-please—” you sobbed, the new veil of tears that had welled in your eyes causing your lashes to clump and spike together with every fluttering roll of your eyes back into your head. His pace was voracious, wanting to devour you down to your very core. You could barely get half a broken plea out before it was interrupted by a surrendering mewl or a soundless gasp, mouth hung open in ecstasy before he prepared to shatter you. “Please— I’m gonna—”

But before you could even speak the last word of your sentence, let alone remember it, Undertaker had you coming undone, unraveling you like a frayed thread on a silk scarf, pulling you apart until there was nothing left but a tangle of string he could then rearrange into any shape he pleased.

Your chest rose and fell with short, shallow, panting breaths, rigid form relaxing back into the mattress, body gone all pliable and boneless once the remaining tension melted away. Meanwhile, Undertaker pressed gentle kisses to the sensitive insides of your stained thighs, palms gently petting you as you drifted down from the high and back into the garden of Eden he’d planted, nurtured, and grown just for you.

Normally, he’d barely give you enough time to recover before commencing round two, but, as he seemed to be a little more patient with you on this most special of days, he allowed your heart to slow to a steady rhythm and your breathing to smooth out into even inhales and exhales before shifting over you, darting out his tongue to lick at his own lips to catch one last obscene taste of you before wiping away your glistening arousal from the bottom half of his pale face with the back of his hand.

As he stared down at you through half-lidded eyes, the vibrant green of them almost glowing through the dim dark of the bedroom, he said, as if only to himself, “Just look at you… So gorgeous… My beautiful girl…” as he helped free you the rest of the way from your pretty birthday dress, mindfully folding it and placing it on the nearest bedside drawer so it didn’t get ruined.

Because he did intend to ruin you.

He intended to ruin you in all the right ways.

As he shed his own clothing like a black-skinned snake, all those silvery scars wrapped around alabaster flesh now on full display, you reached out for him, wanting, craving, needing to feel the press of his body back on yours before the ebbing pleasure made you drift off to dreamland. Though, with Undertaker, reality could often feel like a dream, so perfect your conscious mind almost struggled to comprehend it was real at times.

But, as he began to lean back over you, your fingers interlocked as he pressed your hands down into the comforter on either side of your head, both your legs thrown over his shoulders to have you splayed wide and vulnerable for him, just the way he liked you, one thing was for certain. Undertaker had been ahead of himself when he’d said he’d have to find a way to outdo your birthday next year. After tonight, you had no idea how things could get any better than this.

***

(Hello and thank you so much to @fanfictionsworld for your request! I hope I did it justice and thank you for being so patient with me while you waited for it. I know you’ve been following me for quite some time and I always recognize you when I see you pop up in my notifs, so it was truly a pleasure getting to write for you <3

Also want to give a big thank you to everyone else for reading as well! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have a wonderful day!)

[pascallatte]

You're old now, ducky

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x actress!reader

Summary: Post it, it’s not a big deal right? Well, the truth has come out and it isn’t as bad as others make it to be.

Date: December 2017

Warning/s: age gap, that's all, pretty much fluff

Taglist: @benonlinear, @t-stark35, @heyitsme-2, @elleeeee21, @holmesstrange, @tagakalat, @flyestvenustrap, @oldermenaremyreligion, @cherryred444, @avengersheart, @guacala, @pukka-latte

A/N: so uhmmmm I sort of sped my editing process up cause I really wanted to post this already. Like always tell me what you think and happy reading!!

Let’s put it like this, after months— years in fact of speculation from netizens, one would think that whatever they’ve come up with in the first place would be false. This is just cause paparazzi rumour mostly ends up with it just being, well, paparazzi rumour. People Love proving them wrong, but more so on the fact that some fans would approve of a rumour when it involves one or both of their favourite celebrities.

Now, going back to the paparazzi rumour being, just, paparazzi rumour. Let’s talk about maybe, the 10% that was proven true. You see, paparazzi always find ways to know, more like invade, a celebrities personal life. Even with ones like their current muses Pedro Pascal and Y/N L/N, who are the quietest most private people to date, aside from some slip-ups and relationship rumours with friends and co-stars. So with them, having to go public and show themselves to the world, it might just mean that they and/or their team had enough or they just got fed up with being bombarded and interviewed with the same questions every time.

But based on how they’ve done it, people would think that they’ve just decided to do it because they want to. No pressure, no plans, just them wanting to show their appreciation to the other. Well, that’s just what happened on the eve of Y/n's birthday.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────•───────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The day you and Pedro had decided to go public, no one knew. And no one expected that Pedro’s regular post would be as big as this. The post simply consisted of a video and a picture from both of your birthdays, followed by a caption that confirmed all their speculations.

The video started with Shakira’s “Can’t Remember to Forget You,” being blasted in the speakers in the background. The room you were in was decorated with balloons and strings alongside the “Happy Birthday Pedrito” that was strung on the wall, making the people realize this was taken months ago on his birthday. It was also known that Pedro was recording this because if his laugh didn’t give it away, it was his reflection in the mirror behind you. 

Bare-footed, holding pompoms whilst wearing an oversized hoodie filled with Pedro’s face and shades, you stood in front of him, dancing to the beat and singing along. 

“The only memory is us kissing in the moonlight!!”

Pointing a pompom at him, “P continue”

He just continued to laugh as the camera shook. Smiling at him, you wiggled your hips and gave him a look of mischief.

“I can't remember to forget you,”

Taking off your heart-shaped shades, you step closer to him with a wide smile and was seen putting it on him from the mirror behind you. Pulling him up, he tries to keep the camera steady as you tried to make him dance with you. 

“I rob and I kill to keep him with me

I'll do anything for that boy”

You gave him a little tug and laughed as he stumbled a bit, the camera zoomed in on you after that. Your flushed, glitter-covered face was seen but despite the mess you were smiling as hell, his reflection also gave away his expression because he was seen reciprocating your smile.

“I'd give my last dime to hold him tonight

I'll do anything for that boy”

Pulling away, you extended your arms while exaggerating a hug as you lip-synched. As soon as you had your arms around yourself you wiggled shouting “ TO HOLD HIM TONIGHT!”. You were then seen placing your hands in your pockets and pulling out a party hat.

Walking closer to him, “Can you bend down a little,” you asked him, still out of breath. As he moved closer you fixed the party hat before gently placing it on his head with a soft smile on both your faces.

“There,” you said before patting his cheek and placing a party hat on yourself too. Turning to the counter on your left you carried the already lighted cake to him while saying “Happy 42nd, mi Cielo.”

“Thank you, mi sol,” he blew the candle and hugged you, ending the video.

•─────⋅☾☽⋅────────•───────⋅☾☽⋅─────•

The picture he posted with this was taken the night of your birthday. The large window and purple carpet by it made it clear that this was in your apartment.

“Happy Birthday to you!!” they sang as they walked to you carrying the cake. Pedro and a friend of yours were seated on either side of you with wide smiles as they waited for the cake that would conclude your “30th year on Earth,” as they say.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear y/n, happy birthday to you!!,” you blew the candle as soon as they finished as claps erupted from the people with you followed by a kiss on the cheek from Pedro who was smiling at you the whole time. 

A friend of yours raised her camera “Come on, let’s take a picture.”

The first couple of shots were good, everything was proper and organized nothing “disastrous” has happened yet. But, of course, it won’t last long as long as you were involved. Dipping your fingers to the cake, you smudged it on the unknowing Pedro’s cheeks up to his nose while he was talking to someone. 

He looked at you, shocked, before he too, dipped his finger in the cake, spreading the icing on your cheek and forehead. You widened your eyes at him because you were not expecting him to do it to you too. But as soon as the shock wore off you were both laughing at your antics, you were then surprised when they called you two for a picture.

Taking the chance, you grabbed his cheeks and stuck them to your icing-covered cheek, and smiled for the camera. It ended up showing a picture of you guys, cheek to cheek, face covered in icing while smiling like crazy. One of your hands was placed on one side of his face and his hands were raised to show how much icing it still has on.

•─────⋅☾☽⋅────────•───────⋅☾☽⋅─────•

“I would like to introduce to everyone to my ducky, my sunshine, mi alma, el amor de mi vida, Y/N, who has entered her 30s today. Wishing you the best of luck for this new chapter, hopefully with old little me who's been with you these last two and a half years. Know that we love you so so much and remember to just be yourself, no matter what.

Once again, Feliz cumpleaños querida. This is also a reminder that you’re old now, ducky.”