#the kitten is absolutely purring for him

[lavenderspence]

going absolutely feral imagining riding him in this outfit, jesus my horny ass

[sh1-n0bu]

✿ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙩 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 ✿

characters: jing yuan, blade, dan heng, welt yang, yanqing, sampo, gepard, luocha x nb!reader

warnings: tooth rutting fluff, advised for u to read while sitting down or in private bc u might have a heart attack from how cute and chaotic this shit is, some angst might be sprinkled in just bc✨✨

notes: that moment when you have a super bad baby fever except the fever is towards cat rather than babies. genshin impact ver can be read here! part 2 with penacony men!

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

oh fuck

look at that floof

that absolute big soft floofball peacefully sleeping on top of your favorite black shirt. your shirt is ruined, massive amount of white fur stuck to the fabric and you’re late for work but at least you have a happily napping away cat

a siberian cat, me thinks. with that amount of fur and that large body, he’s gotta be a siberian cat

spoiled, smug peace of shit and he knows it. revels in that title even

dubbed as ‘the handsome cat’ by your friends, co-workers and neighbors alike, meow yuan is surprisingly and not so surprisingly incredibly popular amongst the ladies. whether it be because of his fur, his adorable meows, the red ribbon you tied around his neck as a makeshift collar or his way of charming the ladies with a gentle pawing to their hand and a smug “meowww”, you will never know

the biggest out of the cats. but is it his body that’s big or is it the rapunzel like long fur that he has. the world will sadly never know and neither will you

surprisingly chatty at times. but worryingly very eepy. an adult cat should sleep about 12-16 hours a day and yet you’re pretty sure meow yuan spends 25 hours of the day sleeping away under the sunlight

closest to little nyanqing. seems to think of the youngest kitten as his own as he’s seen grooming or simply looking out for the young kitten at times. also seems to be a bit closer to nyan heng and meowade but the latter tends to spend his time alone

an absolute smug spoiled prince and he owns to it. whether it be feigning hurt, crying out for your attention or downright plopping himself down on your keyboard, deleting your entire progress of work, the little shit knows how to be a headache

but it’s okay, you always forgive him because he allows you to smush your face into the fur of his belly when you’re stressed or squish his soft toe beans. meow yuan is let off the hook yet again…

occasionally, meow yuan reminds you of a lion. it maybe weird and completely out of the blue but with the way he grooms others, his fur, the absolute motor like loud purrs he emits or the sheer massive size and weight of him — yeah, you get the point

one time, you decided to spoil him by carrying him around in your arms like how you do with the other cats. the loud crack! noise and the fact that you couldn’t get up the next day should prove just how damn big he is

meow yuan was a worry wart the whole day. constantly meowing in your ears, purring softly, nuzzling your side. it almost seemed like he was trying to apologize for being this big. to which you easily let him off the hook of course. how could anyone ever say no to that big adorable yellow eyes?

art credit to cocoink🍁 on twt

a bit of a worrying case, meowade is

he doesn’t like socializing, the other cats nor does he get along with you either. the only ones he seem to at least tolerate were meow yuan and nyan heng alongside you

likes to spend his time all alone, cooped up inside some small confined space, above the cupboard or inside his own small room in the cat tree. also enjoys spending time in your room as well but only if the other cats aren’t there

flinches or freezes up whenever you touch him which is incredibly worrying and gut-wrenching. makes you hate however was his previous owner to have caused meowade to despise touches and affections

the first time you found him, bleeding and wet on the side of the road and tried to wrap your coat around him to take him to the vet, the little scraggly cat hissed and clawed and bit at you with great amount of hate despite literally bleeding out. thankfully, he seemed to understand you were no threat as he went limp in your coat, allowing you to get him to the vet

due to whatever his past experiences were, meowade hates being close to anyone. but at least he was slowly but surely opening up to the others and you

the first time the poor scraggly cat decided to bump his head to your hand, asking for pets, you cried tears of joy and relief. at least, you can offer him healing and comfort as you and the other cats stay there for him on his journey

the second biggest cat, bested by meow yuan himself. not as big as him but damn can this cat scare others. whether it be other cats, your friends who decided to visit or some random dog that you passed by as you take meowade out for a walk

seriously, the amount of times this cat wrestled against dogs bigger than himself gives you heart attacks. it’s a real wonder and a miracle you aren’t dead yet

british shorthair, me thinks. but the ones that grow to be a bit bigger than the others

has a bad habit of just… staring off into space, unblinking with those big round eyes at times. literally no thoughts in his brain. head empty, as he just… stares off into space

“oh, having another existential crisis again? mind if i join you today, meowade?”

“…”

“… meow”

and so, this weird ritual of the two of you sitting side by side, staring off into the distance, unblinking as the cup of coffee in your hand goes cold has become something special in you two’s bonding moment. oneself that meowade looks forward to each day

sometimes, he tends to chase after nyan heng around the house for whatever the reason. it leaves poor nyan heng shaking and hissing as the small black cat comes to you for help

not the chattiest of cats nor is he the most pickiest. quite docile despite his killer stare at times and you would even daresay, shy when it comes to affection

overall, a cute cat. the cute pathetic ones that you just can’t help but adore and love

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

another docile cat!! perhaps even the most docile one!!!

at first, you were worried when taking him in because holy shit, where is his tail?! only after taking him to the vets did you finally managed to breathe a sigh of relief because nyan heng was a black manx breed of cat

lean, on the smaller side, an amazing hunter and a dutiful bug hunter in the house, nyan heng is a cute black manx who has a pretty green/grey eyes

an absolute sweetheart, always hoping to please you or help you out around the house as he helps to keep the other cats in line. except for meowade. he always finds himself having a hissing match with the black british shorthair or getting teased by the eepy meow yuan

closest to nyelt, as you had found the two cats together when you decided to take him in. almost seem to see nyelt as some sort of a father figure with how the little black manx constantly goes to the older one for advice or simply some help in grooming

has a cute simple, thread like thin black tie with a few charms around himself as a makeshift collar. he seems to like it despite the thread being a little bit too thin for cats’ comfort

seriously, what’s up with your cats and their desire to wear makeshift collars? makes you really consider if they are cats…

that aside, nyen heng also tends to be more active during nighttime. not the type that would take down things, destroy objects or cause ruckus and cause you jump out of the warm comfort of your bed. no, he just simply quietly trudges around the house, searching if he had truly hunted down every bugs and insects in the house

especially that spider

nyen heng hates to see you so scared over that cursed spider. so he makes it his life mission to rid the house of insects, more specifically, spiders!!

and damn is he absolutely devoted to his job because ever since you cried to your friend over the phone about the spider that you saw in your room, you never saw another spider ever again!

not the most chattiest nor is the most affectionate. he’s a mix of both but only when in privacy of you two or when he’s feeling particularly lonely

don’t get him wrong, the other cats are an amazing company but he just tends to seek out your attention and affection more y’know? there’s just something soothing about being by your side

seems to have some history with meow yuan and meowade. whether that be good with how friendly meow yuan is with nyan heng. or bad, with how meowade seems to want to take their play fighting to a whole next level

surprisingly, doesn’t like sunlight that much

most of the cats would follow the sunlight and it’s warmth and spend some time outside or on the window sill. but you can find the little black minx just chilling in one of the rooms of the cat tree of beside you, observing the other cats

nyen heng is an absolute sweetheart. the quiet type of sweetheart

the type of sweetheart that follows you around, hoping to help you out or simply offer a comforting presence. it’s the least he can do for you

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

another sweetheart of a cat except nyelt makes himself and his presence known unlike nyan heng

possibly a havana brown breed with just how damn calm, peaceful, loving and loyal he is. especially with you. havana browns tend to attach themselves to only one person during their span of life, which sometimes can feel like nyelt is just a biiitttt clingy with you

was there with nyan heng when you took the two cats in and often times acts like a father figure to the cats of the house which is a huge help to your mental state. except for nyanqing. nyanqing only has one father figure and that’s meow yuan

but that was completely fine since nyelt still looks after the little energetic kitten. often times looking after the cream munchkin as he carries nyanqing around by his scruff

to which, nyan heng comes to you for affection and attention. if his father figure won’t give it, then you surely will!

likes to wear the black mini scarf like collar around his neck. often times seen curled up inside the mini scarf as he sleeps the day away like most cats do

can come of as quite chatty at times with how attentive and helpful nyelt is

oh your back feels stiff? he can sit on it and make biscuits (that cute moment when cats knead their paws?). meow yuan is out of option since he’s way too big and heavy and could potentially be the sole reason you break your back. literally

oh nyanqing is missing again? what do you mean he’s missing? he’s right there, hiding inside one of the rooms of the cat tree

nyan heng is being bullied by meowade again? you know nothing of the weight behind this powe—

yeah, you get it. kinda reminds you of a grandpa with how attentive he is and how he has a single streak of grey atop his head fur. which is absolutely adorable and one place that you adore smothering with kisses

nyelt doesn’t seem to mind the affection too as he simply sits there, purring away and basking in your affection. a very pliant cat

sometimes, something seems to weigh heavily on his and nyan heng’s minds with how they curl up together or look out the window, seemingly searching for something

at first when they did that, you thought some bird or a squirrel passed by the window. but if that was the case then every cats should by by the windowsill

yet only nyelt and nyan heng are

at first it worried you because what if they were having cat depression?! are you absolutely sure that you’re being a good cat owner, [name]?!

yeah, you had a lot of self doubt and depressive episodes due to the two cats

however you finally figured out the case when one day, one of your co-workers suggested a play date with her own cats. saying that sometimes, cats need to see new faces to experience some relief from their everyday tasks or ways of living

the date was agreed upon and your co-worker decided to bring over a few of her cats

the immediate second the pretty red furred maine coon, pink-ish scottish fold and the grey striped scottish fold stepped out of the cat bag, nyelt and nyan heng seem to brighten immediately as they fucking dash towards the three cats

turns out the five of them seemed to have been close before they got separated and the two male cats found their way in your home

at least your cats were happy yet again. which made you happy in turn too

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

awwwwwww

everyone's reactions when you first introduce them to nyanqing. and honestly, you can't blame them because look at that cute little cream munchkin pitter pattering his way over here!!!

as stated above, a cute little cream colored munchkin

super adorable

tiny

a tiny baby

"hang on, i'm gonna have an abnormal increase in my sugar intake simply because nyanqing is just too damn adorable to not to do that" - you on a daily basis while calling your best friend and honestly? your bestie's starting to get a bit sick of your constant fawning over your cats

that is until you bestie decides to come over for a visit to drop off some meds for you (during the infamous 'trying to lift meow yuan and almost breaking your spinal cord' day), your bestie dropped down to the floor, unresponsive the moment you called over nyanqing to introduce him to your bestie

yeah... since then the two of you constantly fawn over the little munchkin while trying not to die of a cuteness overload

but it's completely fine and understandable even as you two get the nth heart attack this day simply because nyanqing was... well, nyanqing himself!

an adorable little pliant baby who loves nothing more than sleeping, playing around with meow yuan, you and sprinkles of mischief sometimes

is the closest to meow yuan and can be found with the large siberian cat whenever you can't find him. often times, you would have to move meow yuan over to check each and every nook and cranny around the large siberian cat just so you can get a glimpse of the small munchkin and let out a sigh of relief

at times, the eepy meow yuan tends to curl up with the tiny nyanqing buttttt due to how much of a heavy sleeper the larger cat is, nyanqing almost gets crushed under the much larger cat

yet he somehow is still alive and well and completely okay???? like what????????

still doesn't relieve your heart no matter how many times you find the tiny munchkin under the large siberian cat

is a little bit mischievous at times with how he lovingly bothers nyan heng. trailing after the black minx all the while meowing his ears off about something. the same can be applied to nyelt as well but nyelt tends to patiently converse with the small munchkin unlike nyan heng who wishes to avoid him at most times, preferring his lone and private time

seem to have some sort of an ongoing hidden agenda against meowade and luonya. the former black can cat be found bullying the small munchkin until either the other cats step in or you. as for the latter? no one knows. somehow, nyanqing always ends up getting into a defensive position whenever luonya comes into his field of vision

one time you even found nyanqing hisses at meowade with meow yuan behind the tiny kitten's back. you had to put the three of them into time out and give meowade a scolding

what about scolding nyanqing you say? well

“this is the last time i’ll let you off the hook, nyan-nyan. if i find you stirring up trouble again”

yeah… when are you ever going to stop letting your cats off of the hook [name]?

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

…

“you sure this is a cat and not a fox or a vixen undercover?”

“yes, it is indeed a cat and not a fox or a vixen undercover. i’m guessing it’s a somali cat though it could be mixed breed with another different cat breed as well”

“you sure…?”

“please get out, and allow the others to show their pets”

yeah… the local vet is familiar with you and your many different cats. not to mention the amount of times you asked if meowpo was truly a cat and not a fox undercover because damn, is this cat fucking mischievous

an absolute fucking menace and i cannot stress this enough, god

the type of cat who would keep a straight eye contact with you as his soft squishy paw slowly pushes a cup full of your coffee towards the edge of the surface all the while keeping the :3 face

oh you thought meow yuan was bad and mischievous? you immediately took back your words the second you adopted meowpo

that’s how damn bad this little cat is

you know those moments that you have like,,, a cute aggression? but instead of smothering the cat with kisses and hugs and cuddles, you end up lovingly bullying the cat? yeah. that’s your eternal cycle with meowpo

“you stupid—“ kiss “—fucking” kiss “—cat!” kiss “when the fuck—“ kiss “—and where the fuck” kiss “—did you came from” kiss “—to make me suffer, huh?”

a never ending cycle and meowpo fucking revels in the sheer amount of times he can make you have lovingly bullying cute aggression moments

seems to have some sort of a rivalry with nyepard and surprisingly meow yuan

nyepard was completely understood and truthfully, you saw it coming. nyepard is a rule follower and an enforcer through and through meanwhile meowpo is a rule breaker

so imagine your surprise when you come back home one day to see meow yuan glaring at meowpo from his windowsill

“meow yuan, what’s gotten into you? why are you bullying meowpo?”

“mrreow!” oh meow yuan sounded a bit angry. which only served to double your shock since meow yuan is a very gentle cat despite his large size. gentle, affectionate, chatty, friendly and a bit mischievous at times but never hostile or mean

“mrreeeooww!” meowpo seems to complain as he makes his way over to hide behind your leg. he seems to be shaking or even afraid of the larger cat

to which, you immediately coddled and soothed meowpo over and scolded meow yuan afterwards. all the while meowpo gives meow yuan a knowing smug look

yeaaahhh… these idiots are fighting for your attention and affection

if meowpo isn’t somewhere inside the house, creating chaos and getting scolded by the other cats then you can definitely find him by asking a help from nyepard. nyeppie would dutifully carry out his duties and rat meowpo out in record time

but he isn’t always so mean or mischievous. the times where you fall sick and is having a hard time trying to breathe through your nostrils, meowpo is the one who takes care of the other cats’ bowls of food and water

it was a way of him hoping to help you out the tiniest bit as you lay bedridden

art credit to Toma超想吃番茄 on yt!

nyepard, the most… dog-like cat you would ever meet. but also a cheetah-like as well????

it’s hard to explain since nyeppie has spotted fur and the black smokey eye that cheetahs have and not to mention his large yet lean physique as well

the second largest. whereas meowade is also the second biggest due to his length, neppie is the second biggest due to being a bit on the… buffer? side

seriously, you were worried for a few days when nyepard kept growing and growing, showing absolutely no sign of stopping his growth spurt

thankfully, he isn’t as big as meow yuan

you don’t wanna live with the embarrassment of getting dragged down the street by another big ass cat chasing after a random pretty leaf they saw. nope. you can’t deal with the embarrassment and shame

and yes, you did dragged down the street when taking meow yuan out on a walk before but that is a story and second hand embarrassment for another time

another sweetheart despite his size

very doting, gentle, very shy when it comes to affections but still asks for them anyways because it’s you

the first time you took nyepard for his vet vaccinations, the veterinarian looked at you dead in the eyes as if saying “bestie, what the fuck?”

of course you would get weird stares whenever you take the big cat out for a walk. he’s as big as a doberman dog and the dotted furs of his doesn’t exactly help to direct attention away from yourself

but the sheer amount of power you feel when walking down the street with both meow yuan and nyepard by your two sides is fucking addicting

one cat that closely resembles a lion and another that looks like a cheetah. at least you sleep peacefully at night knowing that you have two scary cats privilege

scary dog privilege? [name] only knows and experiences scary cats privilege. at times it's adorable but also threatening as well because your bestie and some close co-workers know just how devoted and loyal your cats are towards you

nyeppie is the most loyal of them all. or at least, one who is willing to show it at each minute of the day with how dutifully he chases after insects with nyan heng, scolds meowpo or just is there to be your emotional support

by being your emotional support, nyeppie meant being there sitting beside your computer as you diligently types away at a work report and not to be your cuddle victim!!!! no, no no no, no no, you're not squishing his paws as you take him away in your arms to cuddle on the bed!! you always end up falling asleep!!!! what do you mean by it's completely fine that you have saved up the progress and the deadline isn't close yet?! the deadline is before midnight!!!

sigh...

if only cats could sigh heavily and smack his face with his palm as he watches you scamper about, trying to wake yourself up as you realize that you did ended up napping the day away with nyeppie in your arms

well, at least you managed to send the report in at time. by 'at time' you and him both meant at least 2 minutes before the deadline closed up

nyepard guesses you can cuddle with him this time since you managed to finish the report within a record time of 47 minutes

art credit to mm_mako22 on danbooru!

luonya is probably the most weirdest cat you ever had the pleasure of adopting. and that was saying something because you're pretty sure you live with a long lost lion and a cheetah and a fox cats!!!!

and he's just a simple, silly, lovely cream colored turkish angora!!!!!

ah, whatever. you guess its just life's way of dealing you karma by making you live with a bit quirky 8 cats

jokes and a lot of conspiracy theories pushed aside for now, time to focus on the present AKA 'the pretty cat'

oh yes, while meow yuan was getting dubbed as 'the handsome cat' by almost everyone who meets him, luonya was rightfully dubbed as 'the pretty cat'

at this point, you're damn sure that your friends and co-workers come around only to coo over your cats and to spoil them rather than spending time with you... understandable, because you too would do the same without a single ounce of shame and you absolutely mean every damn word

one time, just for shits and giggles and a bunch of pictures to take of your latest cat, you signed him up for a cat beauty pageant

it was only for shits and giggles and a reason to snap pictures of luonya in a pretty cat costumes and stuff, you swear!! so imagine your surprise and how far down your jaw went slack when the host announced your cat, luonya as the cat beauty pageant winner!!!

yeah...

it was a chaotic thing to happen truly and the small glares and backhanded compliments the other cat parents were giving you was making you break out in cold sweat. at least, you have your pretty cat with you to soothe yourself a bit

and a nice whopping 300K dollars as the victor money!!!! damn, you're rich as shit now

not for too long since that money is gonna fly away in the wind due to the fact that you adopted a literal 7 cats and a kitten

worth it, you cry internally as you pay for the 50 kilograms of cat food all the while luonya gently meows at you as in a way of saying "hurry up, dear. we still have to pick up the wet food and the snacks too"

hhhh yeah

this cream colored turkish angora of yours is absolutely drop dead gorgeous yet at the same time he also has a very large secretive look on his face. there's just something about the way that luonya just acts, always sitting atop a high place in the house, as he just stares into the souls of everyone within the room

weirdly smells like either flowers or of medicine and pills and there's absolutely no in between. it's either giving lilies or pills but either way, your cat is a girlboss and he seems to know it as well

not entirely affectionate like meow yuan or meowpo but he is also not too talkative either. a bit of something in between along the lines

is affectionate and talkative at times but prefer it if you would be asleep or when its just you two when he finally decides to curl up on your lap

overall, luonya is a very gentle yet also a very suspicious cat but is oki, he girlboss and he knows what he wants and needs with how he sometimes fakes choking noises to make you get up in light speed

[dmitriene]

cat hybrid!simon loves to sleep with you, everytime he can, and he doesn't hide the fact that the possibility to paw at your soft tits makes this situation even more attractive to him.

that's how most of the time he ends on top of yours body, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck as his dark tail swishes on the sheets, his heavy and now slightly chubby body pressing you in the mattress without an ability to move, thick hands squeezing your tits over the shirt you wear, before drifting under.

simon caresses them, rubs your instinctively peaking nipples, relishing in the stiffness that contrast with the smoothness of your skin, purring aloud and making you almost vibrate, as you weakly caress his head, rubbing at his soft kitten ears, and down towards his spine.

he would definitely suck on them later, licking lazily with his rough tongue as his wide hips would roll lazily, humping your pussy with his ears pressed against his skull, soft tail wrapped around your leg, as if trying to hold you down entirely, mewling something incoherent and absolutely delirious, shifting his hips to glide his clothed cock right against your wet panties.

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴.

[jasvtsc]

dean winchester x angel!reader. pt.2

you squinted your eyes and tilted your head to the side, intently observing a small creature sitting in front of you. it mimicked your movement and wiggled its long tail. its black fur shone in the moonlight and its green eyes were carefully studying you. you hummed, slightly pursing out your lower lip and the creature let out a sound of its own — soft and barely audible.

“birdie!” dean called out, looking around for you.

you were on a witch hunt in some heavily abandoned town. you dealt with them pretty easily and now, it was the time to go back to the bunker. however, your wandering tendencies decided to show up, leaving dean stressed out with where you could possibly be. sure, you were an angel which meant that you could disappear wherever and whenever you wanted without much further ado. but you weren’t like cas — you never disappeared without a word. hell, you practically never left dean’s side, always stuck to him like glue. which is why he always worried about your little wandering off.

finally, he spotted you in some back alley, standing in the middle with that curious stance. he already knew the expression that would be formed with your heavenly features — you’d have a small pout on your lips, your nose scrunched and your eyes slightly squinted. by now, he was well aware of how you looked when something enticed you. you were like a curious kitten who escapes to explore the world. which he loved — you looked so pretty and he just wanted to cup your face and shower you with small kisses. he was absolutely smitten with you.

as soon as he got closer to you, he smiled, seeing what caught your attention. you were eyeing a black kitten as interested in you as you were in it. dean chuckled and approached you, putting his arm around your waist, and rubbing your side up and down.

“you’re having a staring contest with a lil’ kitty?” he asked with a smile, placing a small kiss on your temple.

“that’s a cat?” you hummed, raising one brow. you only heard about those creatures and never seen them before. but that now changed as you were sizing it up. “you said they were bigger.”

“they are but not that much more. unless you’re talking about tigers. then yeah, they’re bigger,” he admitted with a nod, trying to figure out the answer that’d be satisfying enough for you. “anyway, come on, birdie. let’s head back to the bunker. man, i’m beat,” he groaned, taking a step away and patting your ass to which you shot him a glare, receiving that cocky smirk in response. “come on. or else you’re flying back home,” he snorted, clearly proud of himself for his little joke.

you rolled your eyes and waved him off. “sure, sure, yeah. give me a second.”

“are you seriously going to continue staring at that cat?” he sighed in exasperation, placing his hands on his hips. he loved you and your curiosity, but he was tired and he had to drive back to the bunker. he just wanted to be back in his bed, cuddling with you or doing more unholy things. last time, you looked so pretty on top of him the last time and he needed to make it happen again asap!

“no,” you said matter-of-factly. dean was ready to sigh in relief when suddenly your next words caused him to choke on air. “i’m gonna take it,” you said with a small smile, biting your lower lip. and with that, you picked the kitten up as it purred happily in your arms.

“no. no way in hell. nuh-uh,” he shook his head, pointing his finger at you. “first of all, you don’t even know how to take care of this thing,” he tried his best to reason with you.

“what’s more to it than feeding and petting it? it’s like taking care of you. same thing,” you said with a frown, shrugging your arms. dean gave you an exasperated look, staring at you for a longer moment.

“seriously? did you just compare me to a cat?” he didn’t know whether he should be offended by that or what.

“am i wrong though?” you pointed back at him and raised a brow.

“fine,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes. “still, we’re not taking it. i’m allergic to cats.”

“so what? you just won’t be around it,” once again, dean was stunned by how straightforward you were being. as if it was that simple.

“you just said you prefer a cat over your own boyfriend. i’m hurt, birdie,” he gasped, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, but quickly put on a more stern expression. “seriously, it doesn’t work like that.”

“then i’ll just heal you. as simple as that,” you shrugged, walking past him with the kitten in your arms. “come on, look how adorable it is,” you cooed with a pout, nuzzling the kitten in your arms. and dean hated how his heart seemed to melt because of that.

“you’re unbelievable,” he sighed, following after you.

“i’ll let you hit from the back,” and that was enough to make dean’s eyes light up.

“so what do we name this little fella?” he asked with a huge grin, catching up to you and scratching the kitten behind its ear. he was a simple man — he’d do anything for you anyway, but if you would let him hit after? 

oh, he was down on his knees for you.

a/n: don’t mind me i’m just here to spread soft!dean agenda and how he’s absolutely down bad for his angel !!

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @fitxgrld @figthoughts @angelicp0etry @hrtsoldierboy @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell

[sunniskyies]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 || 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Domestic fluff as you both settle back into life together <3 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Literally just fluff, a bit of being a guardian figure to the kids 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k 𝐀/𝐍: You guys are SO SWEET about the last one, so here's more fluff for you beautiful old man addicts <3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 �� > 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

The kids are in bed— well, mostly. You can hear the chirp of excited conversation through the ceiling. It was late, Stan and Ford’s explanation taking a long, long time. It didn’t help that the retelling got as thick and awkward as wet cement when it came to talk of Ford’s portal, and the events leading up to his departure.

Exhaustion tugs at every battered bone in your body, but you’re so content you might as well be purring like a kitten in front of a roaring fire.

You're curled up bridal-style across Ford’s lap, his arms enveloping you; warm, cradling, completing. He’s donned an old red knit jumper he fished out of his old chest of drawers. It smells like it belongs in a museum, sort of dusty and woodsy. Your face is pressed to his chest, and you feel much younger than your age. It feels like your first day in this house, the two of you huddled on a sagging mattress giggling and talking of futures and other such nonsense; youthful, hopeful, infatuated.

Now the two of you are more than thirty years on, enfolded together like the pages of a book left on an old yellow reading chair. You don’t speak, saving that long conversation for a lick of sunlight and mugs of coffee cupped in hand. No, right now you just sit in silence, Ford’s large hands stroking dust from your hair, a thumb gently soothing the bruise forming on your temple where you struck the wall.

Still unaware of the time except for the inky night hanging in the air, you feel Ford shift. His arms move, body ready to stand up with you. He stops when he notices two large pupils staring up at him curiously.

“You’re still awake, dear,” he smiles, voice quiet. “Let me take you to bed, I must lock up downstairs, make sure nothing vile is seeping through that blasted portal.”

“Ford, no, let’s go to sleep. You can do that in the morning,” you say, trying to ward off the edge of desperation edging into your tone. You can’t help but remember the miserable months of nights in a cold bed while your lover hid away in the basement, sleeping on his desk rather than with you. It has to be different— he’s better now.

Ford doesn’t share your fretting. “No, it’s not stable. Reopening the portal… it’s not safe to leave these things.” He continues to stand up, your body delicately draped over his arms. He seems to notice your expression. “I’ll join you soon, love.”

You doubt that. He’ll probably be there ‘till morning, his simple task snowballing as his keen eyes notice the slightest things amiss. “No, that won’t happen. No, no, I’ll join you. I’m rather accustomed to the portal myself after all this time with it.” You dismiss, stretching a leg to try and stand on the floor.

Ford bundles you up closer, “Absolutely not! You need rest, I swear I will join you.” He begins carrying you to the hall. Your fingers clutch the red fabric of his sweater. 

“Please don’t leave me,” you murmur plaintively, the corners of your mouth downturned. You miss the way Ford’s heart stutters, your eyes all hopelessly syrupy and mournful through your lashes.

He hesitates.

“Please? You can stay down there any other night I promise, just stay this time.”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t want that. Not again,” he says firmly. “Okay… I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You immediately relax again, at ease in the rhythm of Ford’s steps as he carries you to your room. A stupid grin hijacks your face as he ever-so-gently places you under the sheets (he remembered what side of the bed). You watch from your nest of sheets as he gets ready for bed in the soft lamplight, lifting up the duvet for him to slide in next to you.

His arm around you, frothy sheets up to your neck— you think you might die here and now for how perfect everything feels. You feel his nose bump the top of your head as he presses a kiss to your hair.

“If you’d have told me this morning that… that today would be the day I would’ve never believed…” you say, heavy eyelids closing as you're interrupted by a yawn. You feel his chuckle reverberate where you lean into his chest. 

“Go to sleep, sweetness.” He murmurs, tone laced with a smile. There are his hands again, rubbing soft circles on your arm, your hair. He might as well be rubbing in anaesthesia, his touch lulling you to sleep. Darn you Pines.

Before sleep pulls you under, “I’m so glad your back, Stanford,” slips quietly from your lips. Ford’s heart skips again. Arms tighten around you as if you’re a precious photo about to float away on the wind; skin softly creased from a lifetime of loving, hair matte and grey like faded ink from thirty years of waiting.

“I’m more grateful than you could ever know, my dear,”

A stretch trembles through your warm limbs, the aches from last night dulled by a deep slumber and the warm morning sunlight soaking through the window. A thrill passes through you, your arm sliding through the sheets to Stanford’s side and—

A cry pours from you as your hand meets cold, empty space. Your body is jolted upright, perspiration glistening on your forehead. Your heart is hammering, lungs gulping in buckets of air. Where is he? Where is Ford? Did he come through the portal? Did it really happen? You don’t register the wail emanating from you, nor do you register the pound of heavy boots down the hallway.

“____ are you okay?!” Ford exclaims, almost slamming into the door as he hurries in. His hand is tense, hovering above the gun strapped to his belt.

The sight of him— the feeling you get is so overpowering it’s nauseating. Your paralysed limbs untense, body slumping in relief.

“Goddammit Stanford Pines, you just gave me the fright of a lifetime,” you bemoan, uninvited tears swimming beneath the sieve of your hands. You don’t see as his face goes from confused to slack with realisation.

“Oh,” He groans. “Oh sweetness I’m so sorry.” Feeling horrible, he leans on the bed to pull you into him, rubbing your back. “I should’ve waited for you to wake up, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I probably scared you half to death.” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. As much as you are connected to Ford, thirty years has changed both of you, and you find yourself —embarrassingly— feeling like you need to impress him, like a teenager with a crush. God forbid he thinks ill of you!

You relish his rumble of a laugh. “I thought a monster slipped by me or something! I’m grateful you're okay.”

“Yeah, well, I think you might’ve just taken a year off my life, Ford.” You roll your eyes lovingly, a few of the last of those silly tears escaping.

After getting up and pulling on some summer-friendly clothes, you slip down to the kitchen to find the morning well underway. The sun is beating through the windows, and Dipper is sat cross legged on the floor reading a book. He’s reading with the cover down, but his furtiveness is wasted on you; you know he's reading A Good Girl's Guide to Murder. ‘Mature murder mystery books’ indeed, Dipper!

At the kitchen bench, Mabel is haphazardly balanced on a stack of books, multiple propped open at once. From the batter congealing the pages together and the fact that most of the books are iced, you know they are cookery books. And a cookbook in Mabel’s hands is either as dangerous as a matchbook to a forest, or as useless as shoes to a fish.

By the looks of it, it is the latter. Although, is there a faint… burning?

“Great Aunt ___!” Mabel squeals, revealing sprinkle-harbouring braces. “I'm baking, look I’m baking! See, I had this great idea to try and substitute the liquids in my Mabel Cakes with Mabel Juice because Grunkle Ford has never had either —can you believe that? Me neither, so I thought I could kill two birds with one stone and make them together… but I didn’t realise the plastic dinosaurs in the juice would melt in the waffle iron!—” You try to cut off the young girl’s 100-mile-an-hour babble, but that girl is unstoppable.

You wince as she holds up two fists of semi-cooked, eye-wateringly bright gobdules of cakey dough. You, pained, notice the half-melted dinosaurs, faces in liquified agony as strings of molten plastic drip from their bodies. Matchbook in forest, matchbook in forest!

“—So now it’s a bit of a Jurassic Park, another reason why I think Grunkle Ford will love it, even if it’s a bit of a.... disaster. But if you think about it it’s more like a Magical Mabel Disaster! And oh, I added extra sprinkles because you can never have too many sprinkles! Do you think the hardened dinosaurs will make up for the uncooked dough? Or should I cook it more? Doesn’t matter, it’ll taste great!”

You give her a wobbly smile, mostly because you fear what might happen if you open your mouth.

“I tried to stop her,” Dipper mutters from between his pages, voice smug and matter-of-fact.

“Oh don’t act like you're so grown-up, you’re reading a little girl's book,” she retorts in a sing-song. Dipper slams his book closed, the tips of his ears matching the cover.

“I think you’ll find it’s very sophisticated and easy to digest—”

You let the twin’s bickering fade into the background as you begin to tidy up the carnage Mabel’s baking attempt has left. Usually, she gets distracted by things quite quickly, leaving Mabel-messes scattered around for anyone to find. You don’t mind it though, all too glad to slide the Mabel Cake into the bin. You shiver. Those plastic faces… they haunt.

Ford was back down in the basement, the sounds of clanging and buzzing drifting up through the weary floorboards. You want to go down there, but that silly part of you doesn’t want to disturb him again today. No— that’s ridiculous! Ford loves your company, you don’t get in his way —it’s not like it was when Bill was around.

Five minutes later, you're standing in the small room in the basement holding a cup of coffee and a salvaged Mabel Cake. You see Ford through the glass, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tools being used and replaced back onto his belt. He’s hauling colossal slabs of metal from the sides of the portal, the machine slowly being stripped down to bone. Like a massive carcass, it creaks and groans as Ford’s tools slice away at its flesh, and you hope he’s staying well out the way each time pieces of it fall to the floor like toppling trees.

After a few moments, Ford seems to notice you through his welding mask, though you can’t see his face through the tinted visor. He perks up though, dropping a massive saw to the ground and hurrying over.

“Hello, my dear! Is it too noisy?” He says as he slips through the door, pulling off his helmet and drawing you in for a sheepish kiss.

“No, just bringing you some of Mabel’s baking efforts— you don’t have to eat it, but she was awfully excited.” Ford surveys the cake with a smile, and you resist the urge to wipe the smear of soot from his cheek. 

“Thank you. For the sustenance, and for, uh, for checking in,” he says sincerely. Is that a flush you see? Your suspicions are confirmed when you set the coffee aside and bring him in for a deeper kiss, blouse-clad arms sliding around his neck, and you feel his pulse thrum beneath his skin.

The relief you feel! You’re not the only one navigating these unknown emotions, that the man who’s mapped the multiverse is also feeling the giddy nerves you are. Your skin prickles where his degloved hands bear your skin.

It feels strange to be held romantically after so long of loneliness. It’s not that you haven’t found love with the kids and Stan, but you could never bring yourself to even look at another in the way you used to look at Ford. Even if you never finished the portal, you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone, satisfied at least in the knowledge of how it felt to be loved, once. It excites you childishly knowing just by his kiss that Ford felt the same, the way he cradles you in his gaze and with his hands as if he’s trying to reabsorb every inch.

When you break away, his eyes open after yours, and he seems to be at a loss for what to say.

“Do you, um, want to go for a walk this evening? You haven’t left the shack yet, and we haven’t truly caught up…” you offer shyly.

“Yes! That would be… splendid! Spectacular. This evening. Perfect.” He blurts. The calm of last evening has clearly floated away in the daylight for both of you.

“Perfect.” You repeat.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14, @2hiigh2cry, @taffycandyqt, @papi-machucha, @muffin1304

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[takami-takami]

And If I Want It Soft?

includes— hawks x reader. smut. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. taking keigo's virginity.

If this is the corruption they warned him about, let it be sweet and let it be you.

It's hardly noticable; but Keigo gets nervous when you touch him like this. Like he's doing something wrong, something forbidden. His feathers twitch like they're prepared to detect his commission handlers stalking around the corner of his dim apartment hallway, forboding and scolding something shrill and calculated in his direction.

Instead, Keigo blanks at the way you touch him. Leans into your touch like a kitten, purring when you scratch his scalp. A blissed-out coo trills in Keigo's throat when your fingertips scritch at the feathery, baby blonde hairs where his skull meets his neck. A sweet sound. Innocent. Lovesick, those shut eyes and subtle smile.

But oh, the way Keigo stiffens when your hand follows the ridges of his spine down his neck like water over the rocks of a riverbank, splaying beneath the cotton of his shirt and flooding his senses there.

Keigo's body prepares for his handlers to scold him something fierce, now that he's got a pretty thing touching him all over— in ways the commission would surely balk at, too— but that doesn't happen. Instead, your sweet voice lulls him under the ocean waves again, soothing that overworked mind of his. Quieting it with gooey safety.

Calling him words like pretty, and sweet boy, and mine.

Can you blame Keigo for stirring beneath the waist? Honestly, it's quite inappropriate of him to be thinking these sorts of things about you. Your bare hand is massaging the tender junction between his shoulderblades beneath his shirt. His face is smushed against your chest, arms strewn over your body in bed. It's not like he can help whining a little in his throat, nosing at your body like he's thirsty for something more to wet his appetite.

He's a virgin. At his age in his twenties, too. Seen all that life as a hero and the poor thing has never gotten his cock wet. A shame.

You won't let that stay for long, though. He's sure. He wouldn't give it to anyone but you. And lord, God, angels in heaven— he wants you to take him.

But that isn't appropriate to say. So instead, Keigo lets the tension simmer. Luxuriates in it, lets himself sink into it like a hot bath.

Until next time. He thinks he'll let you touch him wherever you want, next time.

---

Where should he put his hands?

Your tongue is pressing against his, but it doesn't feel strange. Foreign, sure. Welcome, absolutely; but nothing about this is unnatural.

Still not used to this, Keigo closes his eyes and allows himself to moan. Judging by the way your lips quirked against his, he's sure he did something you liked. His heart sings at the thought and he huffs against your mouth.

He did good.

Subtle praise makes a man bold, and he decides to try his hand at making more sounds for you with the intention of infecting you back with that imposing heat you impart unto him— only this time, Keigo allows his tongue to curl around words.

Words like you're so beautiful, and I want you so badly, and mine, too.

Your soft hand palms at his cock over his hero uniform and Keigo nearly chokes on a sob, eyes rolling back like he just touched God.

Would it come across as desperate to reach down and undo his pants, himself? A stern voice sharply barks the word greedy in the back of his mind for liking this. Keigo whimpers and turns his head away as if it will help him escape the thought, but then—

"Greedy boy," you whisper, and Keigo's breath hitches with arousal.

"You like this," you ask. Reverent, not judging.

He does. He likes you.

Keigo must have nodded at some point, because your warm laughter and sympathetic mmhm, good boy make his shoulders fall lax and comfortable.

"Can you," Keigo dares to ask, eyes wide. "You don't have to, it's just—"

He hears his buttons undone.

---

This time, you're both wearing much less clothing and Keigo is the one on top. He wonders if you're feeling as exposed as he is; but he doesn't have to wonder if you also feel this right— Keigo can hear your thoughts through your body, now. A honed skill, an acquired dialect.

You did that thing you usually do to him, stole his breath through his cock and sucked his thoughts down your throat as if his body were some kind of holy ambrosia; but tonight, as you both discussed prior, Keigo wouldn't be finding release in your mouth.

When did the most erotic thing ever done to him become simply foreplay? He used to lose his mind at the way you fit him into your mouth, begging garbled pleas for forgiveness from something or someone unreachable for feeling this good. Now, it simply makes him hungrier.

"Like this," he mutters the question to you for guidance, congratulating himself on not choking the moment his fat tip presses against you, prodding at your entrance.

"Mm," you moan and the sound is like lightning down his cock, causing it to twitch. "A little lower. Then press forward and—"

A gasp. Possibly two. Fuck if Keigo can tell, stars swimming in clockwise circles around his head.

The heat of your hands grounds him, palms squished against his cheeks as he presses his forehead to yours, sinking inside.

"Breathe, darling," you smile.

"God, I'm— I, I'm trying," Keigo laughs, boyish, pretty, and golden. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Right?"

You clench and shift your hips just for show and Keigo's jaw drops in a silent scream.

"You can do that? Don't do that," he whines, nosing into your neck. You feel his bare skin against you and his breath comes panting. You smile triumphantly.

"Sorry, sorry," you say. "I'm nervous, too. You just looked so cute. Your nose got all scrunched up and—"

As quickly as they bubbled up, the words are snatched in your throat like air lifted from your lungs. Keigo's firm hands pin your hips softly in place, grinding his body boldly against yours. Dragging himself deeply in your guts, knocking the breath out of you with pleasure.

As much as Keigo adores the sound of your voice, pillowy and seraphic, he needs to satiate this feeling in his chest somehow.

"It feels good for me, too." A kiss against his shoulder. "You take care of me so good. You're real gentle with me."

Like a lover, Keigo's mind completes for you.

Finally soft. Finally seen. Keigo blinks back the tears and kisses you again instead.

---

Keigo would be hesitant to admit the amount of research he did prior to undressing you, but in the end, it blanked from his mind entirely once you both started melding together. That being said, he does particularly recall most of the advice detailing how unrealistic and difficult it is to finish at the same time as your partner.

Huh. He supposes not everything you read online has to be true.

Your soft, sleepy breaths rouse Keigo from his daydreams, recounting in meticulous detail your eyes, your movement, your voice in the throes of it. One elbow props his body up, the thin sheets revealing more of his torso when he shifts over you.

Keigo tucks a stray hair of yours and watches your dreamy breaths, the rise and fall of your bare chest that was just against his own.

He should probably feel guilty for calling you his spouse already, but he doesn't. He supposes he never will.

[grandisknight]

at your service | rafayel

summary: Gaining the upper hand in Kitty Cards has its benefits, which solely consist of making the loser (Rafayel) comply to the winner’s choice.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, kitty cards (derogatory), teasing, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), 'miss bodyguard' name mention, thomas mention, maid!rafayel, sub!rafayel, costumes, roleplay, maids, photography, kissing, praise kink, ‘master’ kink, brief mouth fucking, finger sucking, handjobs, m!orgasm, ejaculate, implied/suggestive ending

wc: 3.0k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: don't ask me what happened but just know i will die on the hill that is maid!rafayel

You couldn’t believe your luck. 

And Rafayel couldn’t understand his lack of it. 

The Evol kittens were no better in-between the two of you—some were happily purring or fast asleep, comfortable in their colored teacups. More importantly, unbothered and unaware of the two players on opposite spectrums in their aftermath.

Out of the nine creatures, an overwhelming majority belonged to you. After a long, arduous dual and third round sweep, you had overshadowed Rafayel with a score of thirty-two points to his measly eight sum. He held a quarter to your victory.

“This game sucks,” Rafayel sulks. His frown mirrors one of the red Evol kittens closest to him, rounded tears blobbing down its cheeks. Both defeated, worse for wear at the outcome.

You let out a small laugh. “You say that, and yet you still play with me every week.” 

You poke the cheek of a cheery green Evol kitten, who nudges against your touch in turn and meows. “Isn’t that right, little fella?” It delightfully purrs back at you, the accordance only rubbing more salt into Rafayel’s poor wound.

“Hmph.” He doesn’t fight you there, chin resting in the palm of his hand and averting your teasing gaze.

You collect your hand and his, returning all cards to the discard pile with a satisfied hum. No sooner did a café worker come by to clear your table, leaving the two of you to your devices.

“And you know what that means, don’t you?” You lean forward, reaching to his sulking demeanor. Catching the sleeve of his blouse, you lightly pinch the silk between your fingers, putting on your own petulant expression. “Unless you forgot so soon.”

As long as he breathed and lived, it was actually Rafayel who would constantly have to remind you of things said and done in the past. Less of the forgetful one between you, he takes pride in his memory retention.

Even so, he couldn’t stay upset with you for so long. His shoulders relax at the sound, back straightening and taking your hand into his. A scoff of, “Puh-lease, of course I remember,” answers your questions.

“Loser does what the winner wants,” he tacks on in confidence. 

It was the terms agreed upon when stepping into Meow Meow Café earlier that day—he didn’t think much of it at the time, confident he would win today’s rounds. 

But, that wasn’t the case. Right. You won the first, he the second, and as for the third…

Rafayel pauses then, dual-chromed eyes now narrowing in suspicion. “Wait a minute. I’m the loser.”

You nod, a grin plastered to your face. “Today you are, yeah.”

“And you’re the winner,” he follows up. 

(If you look close enough, you could make out swirls of equations and calculations floating around his head.)

“Two for two, you’re absolutely correct.” With a gentle tug and rise from your seat, you string along a bewildered artist in tow. 

It came altogether then. A sense of dread at your unrevealed schemes quickly fills his tone, face already draining of its color. “Oh no,” Rafayel groans.

“Oh yes,” you chirp. “I have a wish that needs to be granted, and you’re going to help me out!”

—

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” 

You stood outside the bathroom door, which was currently (and firmly) locked from within. Not that you were going to barge in unannounced, but surely it warranted some concern when Rafayel hadn’t stepped a single foot out since entering. Only the rustles of clothing and hushed utterances echoed the acoustics of tiled walls; you couldn’t really make out any of the finer details otherwise.

And it’s been ten minutes.

You clear your throat, wondering if he missed the first time you called out. “Ra—fa—yel—“

The door swings open then, the man of the hour greeting you with, “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

It took a second to register his reappearance, and your mouth fell slack taking him in. “Woah,” you breathe out in awe.

No longer in his casual blouse and accompanying slacks, the artist stood before you in a newly picked attire. 

White knee-high socks stuck to his calves, with the edge of their supporting garters partially hidden and neatly wrapped all the same. A frilled apron of ivory linen rested neatly above his kneecaps, blanketing the black satin of a dress in an equally-met length underneath. Sleeves puffed around his shoulders, and a pointed collar was tastefully unbuttoned in fashion—undoubtedly of his own doing, revealing the flush of his chest and collarbone that homed one of his many beauty marks.

To which, he instinctively covers up with a defensive cross of arms and ears tipped in a bright red. Embarrassment follows his rather meek stance. “So like, that’s all, right? Can I take this off now?”

You take a step closer, hands clasped behind your back in observation and hum. It was well-fitted to his body, hugged neatly in all the places where it mattered. Thomas came in clutch when you asked him the other day, catching him at Flux Arts during one of the slower viewing hours. 

“His measurements?” The agent pondered your request. A couple swipes to his tab later, he adds on with a smile, “Sure thing. If it’s for Rafayel’s sake, then I’ll send them over.”

A little secret kept between the two of you, unbeknownst to the wearer. It was probably for the best, you wouldn’t hear the end of his moping otherwise.

Rafayel whines under your scrutinizing gaze that was lost in thought. “Hey—“

“Not yet,” you say with a shake of your head. “Indulge me for a while more. You took forever in there all by yourself, anyhow.”

You reveal a matching headdress between your once hidden fingers, a row of pleated ribbon swiftly placed amongst his wavy locks. The final piece of the puzzle, a maid in all his glory and in the comforts of your humble abode. A sense of glittering pride holds your gaze to his.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he points out.

Your shoulders raise in a slight shrug. “Of course I am, it’s the winner’s right.” A hand trails down to the curve of his jaw, holding the face that continues to pout. With a light snicker and compliment in attendance, you tell him, “You look very cute, by the way.”

Rafayel’s pout twitches for a second, slyly revealing his enjoyment to the compliment. He clears his throat, saying, “Yeaaah right. Take a picture, I’m sure it’ll last longer.”

Oh, but he spoke too soon. His eyes widen when you actually take out your phone, much to his better judgment. “Hold on, you’re not planning on really keeping a memo, are you?”

“It would be a shame if I didn’t,” you counter. He said so himself—might as well take his word for it.

Swiping to the camera app,  you position the lens inches away and see his furrowed brows through the viewfinder. You gently tug him forward, fingers fully curled underneath his chin. On the other hand, he purposefully sways back and forth in an effort to blur your captures.

You tsk. “The more you squirm, the longer I’ll have to keep trying to take a shot.”

“What, you don’t like my blurry faces too? They’re all handsome,” he huffs. Though a squish to his cheeks cuts him short, stilling him long enough for a ring of shutters to seal the deal.

“Alright, alright,” you coo to console his woes. “I think I managed to get a good one.” 

You lower the phone in observation, scrolling through the new gallery additions. The flurry of dark lavender and hazy skin aside, a few select shots captured the paused moment of time where he did behave. 

Device neatly tucked away into your back pocket, your attention turns back to the subject of your newest wallpaper. Even if this was a reward for you, he deserved just as much in compensation. 

A soft kiss to Rafayel’s jutted lip melts some of his tension, brows no longer scrunched together. You smile at his relaxing shoulders and opening arms when you give another. 

You shower him in adoration, butterflied smooches and his closing eyes soon pressing against the closest wall. Your hands run over the frills of his skirt, smooth to the touch and gently laid out atop his thighs. The barrier of fabric did nothing to hide the amount of warmth emanating through, the effect of your touches having a clear reaction on him. 

You wondered if there was more to be seen—only one way to find out.

Shifting, you drag your lips away from his and to the sweet spot where his jaw and earlobe meet. You ask in a low voice, “So, what do you think?” His blush steadily follows into the very space, worsening when you blow gently over the affected skin. “Dressing up like this for me.”

“My thoughts?” 

Whether it was in disbelief or furthered embarrassment—perhaps a fine condition of both—Rafayel could only exhale. You could feel his legs pressing together in unspoken confirmation, and a bashful turn of his head carries his murmur of, “What do you think I’m thinking about when you touch me like that?”

“Well,” you trail off. “I’d rather show and not tell.”

In a blink, your fingers bunch up the skirt fabric into messied pleats that reveal the answers you sought after. And it truly was a lovely sight to see—you let out a low whistle, impressed at the state he’s in. Through the sheer lace of white trim, a curved tip as red as his ears was weeping quietly, soiling the undergarment dutifully.

“Don’t look,” he whines, attempting to cover up his hardened arousal with the satin.

“Would you prefer if I touched instead?” You tease, catching his wrist in apt timing. You guide his hand over where his body couldn’t lie, and he noticeably twitches. “Oh? Maybe you prefer touching yourself.”

“I can’t do that,” Rafayel weakly counters. It breaks into a low moan when you slowly inch him closer to the beads of precum pulsing past his slit. He hisses when your thumb slips against it, purposefully smearing his come against the lace. “You’re so, so mean, Miss Bodygu—“

“Ah, not so fast.” You tut, drawing back and a string of his arousal follows. He gasps at the unexpected loss, protests shaping his lips before you continue your turn. “That’s not my proper title.”

Confusion tints the hues of red and blue that, already, were far dipped into the seas of lust. “I call you that all the time though.” 

In hindsight, you are his Miss Bodyguard. Have been, for months on end, and with generous bank statements stamped with his name as a source of proof. One who graciously accompanies him when your schedules allow it, to even sightseeing trips for both business and pleasure.

He pauses, then notably gawks with the cogs of realization spinning. “You… Don’t tell me, you want me to call you that?”

It wouldn’t be the first time this particular name has come up in conversation, but the circumstances were vastly different. You bring your soiled thumb to his lips, swiping it across and allowing it to settle into a thin layer of gloss. 

“You can’t be serious,” he says.

“Sorry, are you talking to me right now? I only listen to those with manners.” His eyes only grow in size, yet you feign indifference to it. Of course you would hear him out—though only with the proper name.

Ignorance was never bliss, but rather a crude form of torture for Rafayel. “M… m…” The word laid on the tip of his tongue in a hesitant sound, before a quick mumble follows.

“I can’t hear you.” Your fingers curl themselves once more in a grip over his chin, directing his gaze to go nowhere else but to you. And your eyes were steadfast, committing his flustered face to memory.

“Speak up,” you encourage.

The air above sea had never felt so suffocating yet enticing all at once. Rafayel couldn’t help but enjoy the heat, and the root cause of it, to which he says in a low groan, “Master.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Your faceted praise comes with a tilt of his head and a kiss to reward his newfound diligence. He sighs into your warmth that welcomes him, though it shifts to a whine when you pull away too soon.

Rafayel nudges your nose with his, a pity show pooling in his eyes. “More, Master.”

“More of what, exactly?” You contemplate, before a decisive, downwards push of his lacey underwear has him sighing. 

His length stood proud against his abdomen, way past a softened state, firm and twitching to the exposed air. You draw a fine line from base to sensitive head, gauging his reaction. The other hand toys with the closest garter on his thigh, fingers dipping past the fine leather. “My sweet Rafayel,” you purr. “What should I do with you?”

“Want you to touch me,” he strains, an edge of impatience to confession. His lips move to mouth at your collarbone, no longer hiding his neediness and taking it in stride. It was rare for you to see this side of him, so vulnerable yet entirely reserved for you—a face he wouldn’t dare show anyone else.

Rafayel spoke with heat in his voice and hazy stars in his eyes. “Master, please. I swear I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything,” you muse, squeezing his thigh thoughtfully. “And all you want me to do is touch you.”  You can’t help but chuckle when his enthusiastic nod only adds to your point. 

You could see his illusory fox ears flatten in disappointment when you pull away, against his wishes. He lets out a small yelp when your fingers release the garter and smack against his skin.

“Master, I—“

“Open,” you instruct, fingers searching his lips once more. 

And Rafayel does, choking a moan when you place them against his tongue. Carefully, you stroke his warm cavern, to which his mouth closes around and sucks with zeal. He swirls his tongue against the pads of your fingers, determined to please you.

His canines briefly graze your skin when you depart with a faint string. Now finely coated in a layer of his saliva, you dip your hand downwards—curling the sticky fingers around his nearly-neglected cock. Rafayel cants his hips immediately, supporting the salaciously wet noises that echo in tune. 

You squeeze his length in warning, pressing the other hand to his abdomen. “Stay still,” you scold, feeling him contract beneath your pressure. “If you can’t follow a simple order, I’ll leave you high and dry.”

“No, no, no,” he whimpers, shaking his head adamantly. His hands grip the skirt, desperate and knuckles almost turning white from their strength. Something to keep him grounded, to make sure he listens well to his beloved—“Master, I won’t move, promise.”

You purse your lips. “We’ll see about that.” 

Up and down, you tenderly attend to his arousal in generous strokes. Steady rubs and an occasional swipe to his sensitive head last for what feels like an eternity to Rafayel. He was so well-behaved when his orgasm was threatened, all in the palm of your hand.

“You’re close,” you observe with a particularly firm flick, “Aren’t you?”

“Mhm, ‘m very close,” Rafayel quickly admits, his breaths ardent and changing in pitch. He looked so beautiful like this, prettily wrapped around your fingers and a sweet song of your name resonates from his throat. 

Abandoning the languid strokes, you angle your elbow to reach him sooner—faster. “A good, honest boy,” you coo. His blush only deepens at the sound, and his keens grow in volume. You’d apologize to the neighbors later. 

“Should I let you come?” You ask knowingly.

“Master, Ma—ah—ster,” he cries out. “Can feel it, I’m about to—“ A tear rolls down his cheek, matching the one threatening to bead past his slit. “Please, please.” Overwhelmed and in a desperate need for relief, Rafayel’s expression stirred a flame within you.

“Let it out,” you coax, pace unrelenting and threatening to cramp your fingers. The finish line was only a step away, and you say with a smile, “Do it for me. Come undone, my little maid.”

Blissful orgasm wrecks his body, accompanying his labored whines and pearls of white leaving his spent cock. Both the fabric of his outfit and your hand became victims to the viscous liquid, with the air equally met with nothing but the scent of it. 

Rafayel was boneless by the time he was nothing but dribbles of cum and a wrinkled skirt, slouching against the wall.

Your dry hand finds its way to his face, kindly stroking his cheek and adding a kiss to his relaxed brow. “You did so well, Raf.”

“Course I did,” he manages to jest in a hoarse voice. He eyes the state of his clothes and your dirtied hand, to which he nods towards. “Give me your hand.”

“What?” You look down, before raising it between your faces. It glistens, brought to the light and sinking into the creases of your skin. “Why—Ah.” 

Obediently, Rafayel takes your fingers dripping in release to his mouth. He licks in strides at the leftovers as if it were a swirl of ice cream on a hot, summer day.

“Cleaning up the mess you made,” you muse, though make no movement to stop him. “What a dutiful maid I have.” 

He nips your now unsullied fingertips at the comment. His hold on your wrist brings you closer—you stumble unexpectedly, letting go of his face to steady a hand to his chest.

“Raf—“ Your voice stutters when you feel his knee rub between your legs. Purposeful and angled, the pressure stokes the forsaken flames in your abdomen. “Rafayel,” you breathe, attempting to collect your bearings. 

“I hope you know I won’t easily forget all the things you’ve done,” Rafayel murmurs, eyes glimmering in mischief. “I won’t let you off easy, Master.”

[sorbetisfruity]

So, let’s say Mothers Day exists in the TWST universe.

Everyone’s buying gifts and going to visit their mothers because they’re sweethearts like that💙

Poor Deuce probably went all out on his gift for his mama:((

But anyways, what are you, our poor prefect doing?

Nothing. Because you got shoved into another world without your mom. And it’s pretty clear you’re upset about it and feeling pretty homesick.

You’re sitting on your bed, scrolling through magicam and looking at all the pictures of your friends with their moms.

You’re getting pretty emotional because, god damn, you miss your mom:(((

And then, Grim comes in with a bag in his hands.

Now, if y’all didn’t know, Grim doesn’t have any parents or relatives. He was abandoned when he was a child (kitten????).

Next thing you know, Grim hands you the bag and hugs you tightly, and tells you that you’re the closest he’s ever had to a parent and that he loves you:((((((

And he’s all like, “but don’t tell anyone I ever said this!!! You’re still my henchman..”

It’s so clear he’s embarrassed to be saying all of this, but it’s also clear he really does love you and appreciates all you do for him.

And you open the bag and there’s a couple little things like chocolate and maybe some jewelry.

(The first year crew definitely helped him shop for you because he had no idea what to get you.)

But the most memorable, and absolutely adorable thing in there is a handmade card.

It’s messy and kind of sticky and it’s getting glitter all over you, but on the inside there’s a little drawing of you and Grim. You’re holding his little paw and you two are smiling.

And it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever been given.

And all you can do is bawl your eyes out and hug him close.

It reminds you of something you’d give your mother when you were younger.

And it just makes you miss her so much more.

Poor Grim is so confused on why you’re crying, and he’s saying shit like, “Henchman, I know my gift was great but it’s nothing to CRY over..” as his little paws rub your back.

But he curls into you anyways, and stays with you until you’re done and half-asleep. And you two fall asleep together that night.

He’s in your arms, purring contently against you as you sniffle and whimper in your sleep.

God you miss home:((((

[hitomisuzuya]

OMG WAS ABOUT TO SLEEP BUT I SAW THIS ON THE NOTIF THAT YOU'RE OPEN! HII!! FLOWERS AGAIN FOR YOU!!🌹🌼🌷🌸💐💐💐🏵 I REALLY HOPE UR OKAY MY DEAR! IMYSM!!

CAN I ASK FOR FRUSTRATED/ANGRY SCARA WHO CRAVES THE USER'S PUSSYYY BUT USER/READER IS BUSY STUDYING FOR HER FINAL EXAMS?!?! SO, SCARA IS SEDUCING USER TO LET HIM HAVE HIS WAY FIRST BEFORE STUDYING?! (everything is consensual ofc!) THEN AFTER THAT, SCARA LETS USER REST FOR A WHILE BEFORE WAKING HER UP LATER ON TO STUDYYY

Have a great day ahead! I'll wait for you, always 🌷[we have opposite timezones😞]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Cunnilingus. Pussy drunk!Scara. Hint of anal play. Scaramouche with a tongue piercing. College AU

As always, hunny, thank you very much for the flowers❤️🥺

Scaramouche is two things right now: annoyed and horny. Annoyed because instead of your attention being on him, you were studying. Or trying to, anyways. Horny because you decided to wear that skirt, with those stockings.

Sighing, you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear as you crossed one perfect leg over the other. Scaramouche is practically straining behind you, leaning down over your shoulder to see if he could see the slightest peek of your panties.

Every time you wore that skirt, with those stockings, it always made him want to do the first thing he did when he saw you wearing them. Bunch your skirt around your thighs, spread your legs and tongue fuck your pussy into the oblivion.

When he wants something, he is very intent on getting his way no matter what.

Scaramouche's arms snaked around you, one hand immediately folding over your breast. His fingers teased at your nipple outside your shirt. "Kitten, are you busy?" He purred as enticingly in your ear as he could, smirking when he felt the sensitive nub hardening underneath the fabric.

The chair creaked as you squirmed a little. His thumb stroked around your nipple, making your breath hitch quietly in your throat. "I kinda am, Scara. I have some exams tomorrow, I absolutely have to study. You know how afraid I am of failing," You dog eared a page of your text book with your finger, playing with the edge to distract yourself from the jolts firing to your clit.

Afraid of failing? Unfortunately, such a deep and vulnerable statement wasn't any concern to him at the moment. His cock was aching, and it was impossible to ignore. Jacking himself off wouldn't do. His mouth needs to be on your pussy.

His hand went to your other breast, his other hand drifting down to the hem of your pleated skirt. The fact that you said you were only kinda busy meant you are already caving. It might take a little extra push.

Scaramouche was going to get his way, you never could deny him for long.

"As long as there no Math, you'll be fine," He flicked the ball of his tongue piercing along the shell of your ear, his hand inching your skirt up to give him better access to your panties.

You shiver as slightly chilly air fanned over your pussy. He nudged your panties aside, pinching and teasing your nipple as he parted your folds with his index finger. "Scara, I'm kinda really not kidding," You protested, however weakly. The tip of his finger wagged slowly around and around your clit. You grind your clit on his finger, seeking more friction on the throbbing nub.

Scaramouche scoffed softly in your ear, sliding his finger down to push into and tease your hole. "You can keep studying," He pulled your chair out from your desk a little, "Don't let me tongue fucking that pretty pussy of yours stop you," He walked around your chair, getting on his knees in front of you.

Spreading your legs, he moved your panties aside. Leaning down, he licked his lips and deployed the one tried and true method of getting you to let him have his way. He swirled the ball of his tongue piercing around your clit.

Your eyes widened, the friction from his piercing sent your clit to throb stronger. He groaned tasting your juices starting to saturate his tongue. He kitten licked your clit, smirking as he heard moans starting to bubble up in your throat.

"Good, you are caving, slut," He saw the way you gave into him as your thighs relaxed and stayed open for him. Keeping his hands on the insides of your thighs, he lapped at your pussy like a starved mutt in heat.

Your pen slipped from your fingers, landing forgotten on your text book. Your hands found the back of his head, pushing your mouth down onto your pussy. The action stretched his already collosal ego, feeling it stretch right to his cock.

His tongue piercing made you see stars, juices pooling onto your pussy as it tag teamed an assault with his tongue on your clit. You slid down in a little in your chair, spreading your legs a little wider as you grinded your pussy on his mouth.

Before you could open your mouth to plead with Scaramouche to put his tongue inside of you, he beat you to the punch. Loud moans tore from your throat as his piercing swirled and prodded your quivering hole. "Soaking like a slut on my tongue," He moaned drunkenly, his fingers digging gently into the plush flesh of your thighs to remind you to keep them spread like a good girl while he enjoyed his meal.

Your pussy immediately clenched on his tongue hearing his degradation. You tugged on his hair, your cute whimper tinged moans fueling the relentless pace of his tongue. He licked long stripes up and down your cunt, sweeping it down to nudge teasingly at your other hole.

You have a startled cry of pleasure, and embarrassed blush dusting your cheeks hearing his egotistical chuckle. He sucked and licked his way back up to your clit, swirling his piercing before latching his lips greedily.

"Sc-Scara.." Your thighs trembled, rocking your hips up into his mouth. He was enjoying watching your struggle to form words. You didn't know how to tell him not to stop, your words only falling away into more shameless moans.

Scaramouche's chin and cheeks were sloppy with your juices, enjoying your pussy with every fiber of his being. He sussed out every sensitive part of your pussy as you rubbed it on his mouth.

Your fingers tugging at his hair was your only warning as you suddenly came undone. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, holding your pussy on his mouth so he could feel you cumming hard on his tongue.

He always, always gets what he wants.

Once he was satisfied with greedily lapping up your release, he would put you to bed and let you rest before he woke you up to help you study.

[makeyoumine69]

Being Bateman's Tradwife | NSFW HEADCANON

Pairing: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader; CW: SMUT, Romance and mostly Fluff. Links: [MASTERLIST]; Song Rec: Isabel LaRosa — i'm yours; A/N: This is dedicated to @batemans-malewife, I hope you like it, my dear friend! 💗 If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know.

At first, the whole idea of being a tradwife made you nervous, especially when Patrick insisted that you quit your job and let him take care of all aspects of your life; not to mention his complex personality and unhealthy perfectionism in almost...everything?

But then, when you finally decided to give it a try, the hurricane of domestic life consumed you faster than you could imagine, and you didn't notice how you got used to making him breakfast in the morning before he went to work.

Bateman would watch you float around his modern kitchen like a fairy, wearing something neat and tight that would make him hard even after the morning sex you had a few moments ago; his hazel eyes would peer over the Times he was reading, not missing a sway of your delicious hips. And when Patrick would trap you between his massive frame and the kitchen counter, you would just gasp and smile innocently, pretending you were not seducing him all this time.

Romance. Oh, sometimes Bateman could be such an old-fashioned romantic, who loved to give you flowers, lingerie and various other gifts because he wanted nothing more than to make his dear wife happy; although his generosity was charming, there were moments when you found it embarrassing, particularly when Patrick took you to Tiffany & Co. and asked you to pick out any jewelry you liked. After all, Bateman enjoyed spoiling you because he COULD afford it.

Living under the same roof as Bateman meant being ready to be caught by him anywhere — even if you were just going to take a shower, this man would catch you there too, hugging you from behind and pressing your wet body against his strong one, kissing your neck while his hard length rubbed between your legs, turning you both to the point of no return when your single moan was enough to ignite his desire.

"Mmhhm-Patrick..." The way you called out his name drove him absolutely crazy, especially with your eyes closed like that, Bateman couldn't resist it.

"Fuck, you look so cute like that," he purred in your ear before tugging gently on your hair to make you arch your back. "Spread your legs wider, yeah, just like that," his praise was sweet as honey, warming your heart and inducing you to forget how to breathe. "Uh, such an obedient little Bunny."

The way his thick cock brushed over your ass would set your body on fire, his tight embrace would make you feel so small and fragile but at the same time so protected and cherished; it was the best feeling in the world to be held in the arms of your beloved man.

Hot and bothered, Bateman would nip at your shoulder blade and give himself a few hard strokes before leisurely pushing himself into your tight hole, relishing the way you clung to his brawny biceps and gasping at how perfectly he was stretching you from the inside out.

"Mmm-so good, you feel so fucking good," his low groan echoed off the shower walls, mingling with the sound of the flowing water. "Relax, honey, I got you."

And he really meant it when he said those words. 

Every time you had sex and Patrick saw you struggling to take his huge dick, he would soothe you, but never stop ramming into your malleable flesh, forcing your legs to shake and your throat to spasm in lewd whimpers.

This man was everything to you, and you were everything to him.

Waking each other up by giving oral pleasure would become your favorite ritual that would help you unleash your carnal desires, because there was nothing shameful about making the person you loved feel as good as possible.

Bateman's breath would hitch at the touch of your wet tongue on his swollen tip as you lapped at it like a curious kitten, your coy ministrations would amuse him but at the same time they would be the most powerful fuel for his arousal.

On top of that, there would be evenings of watching his favorite slasher movies, which would turn into something spicy as soon as you snuggled up against his broad chest, seeking protection because you were scared. Patrick would make you sit on his lap and kiss you so passionately that you would moan into his mouth, spurring him on to use his hands more brazenly, squeezing your ass and hips without shame.

And if you were jealous, he wouldn't punish you for it, no. It would boost his ego for sure, but he would do his best to show you that you are the only one he desires at all costs. Bateman would worship every little part of your body or fuck you senseless if it would help demolish any silly thoughts about you not deserving him.

"Baby, look at me," Patrick mused, cupping your sad face in his big palms. "I want you to remember what I'm about to say."

Lowering your head, you closed your eyes for a second before finally daring to look into his dark ones. "I'm sorry to bring this up again. It's just..."

"Shhh, (y/n,) listen," his voice became even more affectionate after your words. "You are my darling, my beautiful wife. I chose you and I don't need anyone else," Bateman's hand slowly traced your cheek, wiping away your shimmering tears. "Because I've found myself in you."

To prove his words, the man sealed your lips with a kiss full of love and tenderness, constantly caressing your face and holding you close.

The two of you wouldn't even remember how long you stayed like that on the Manhattan Bridge, hugging each other so tightly as if you were two magnets. Even if the whole world was against you, you would always have each other, and that was the only thing that mattered.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[urdepressedslut]

Just Like That

♡ Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: While you two were supposed to be repairing Sam’s boat, you end up giving Bucky head instead.

♡ Warnings: SMUT, blowjobs, deepthroating/face fucking, slight praise kink, literally no plot just filth

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+

He couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your lips, the way your tongue ran on the underside of his dick— tracing the bulging vein.

“Doll… oh my… fuckkk.” He moaned out, his flesh hand tangling their fingers into your hair.

You hummed, sending vibrations into his dick. The action had him gripping your hair tight, the slight pain from your scalp shooting straight to your core. The throb had you whining around his length.

“Making me feel s’ good baby.” He praised breathlessly, easing his grip on your hair— petting it down soothingly.

You flattened your palms on his thighs, pushing forward until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat.

His hips bucked instinctively, almost crying out at the way your throat was squeezing him. He grabbed the doorway of the boat, the wood splintering in his metal grip.

You pulled all the way off of him, before swallowing his entire length again— gagging as his head hit deeper in the back of your throat.

“S’ fucking good baby…” He whimpered, his head tilted back in ecstasy.

You snuck a hand down, playing with his balls, letting your other hand pump his length. You glanced up at him— spit leaking from your lips. You watched with lust filled eyes as he panted and whined.

“James… you’re so hard,” You purred, his head snapping down at you, “Bet you’re close, huh?”

He let out a pathetic whine as you squeezed his balls—his face contorted in pain.

“Words baby.” You demanded, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his head.

His hips twitched slightly, the sensation of your tongue massaging around his tip heavenly. He let out a deep moan, feeling your tongue lick over his slit.

“S’ close doll— just like that.” He praised, letting his fingers comb through your hair.

There was something about you kneeling before him, eyes glossed over with lust, as the tears trailed down your cheeks— that made him absolutely feral. The position was so submissive, yet you held all the power. He was melting at your touch— his body putty at your hands.

You pumped his achingly hard length, giving his tip kitten licks. With your free hand caressing his thigh, you could feel the muscle twitch under your palm.

“Gonna cum James?” You asked hoarsely, his hazed over eyes meeting with yours.

You captured his length again, deepthroating him until your nose was buried into the hairs at the base of his cock. You gagged again, the convulsion from your throat making him growl in pleasure.

“Oh… that— keep doing that baby fuck…” He begged, his hips having a mind of their own, rocking into your face.

You whined around him, trying to breathe through your nose as he began to fuck your throat.

You reached around, grabbing handfuls of his ass— kneading the flesh. The action only made his thrusts deeper, his moans needier.

His thrusts were harsher, his needs a priority and if he had to use your face to chase his high— so be it. You on the other hand, we’re dripping. Your pussy was throbbing, him manhandling you making your entire body tingle— ache with desire.

He was nearly crying, his pants mixed with whines, getting impossibly close to the edge. You whimpered around him, his sounds only edging you on.

“Fuck baby… yes— you’re fucking mine,” He growled, his length growing impossibly harder at the image of you crying around him, “All mine.”

Your nails dug into the skin on his ass, your face drenched in tears, salvia leaking out of your mouth and down your chin. You gagged again, spurring him on further, his thrusts quicker. He grabbed your head, fucking your face with such force and suddenly he was pushing impossibly deeper in your throat, your jaw aching.

With an animalistic groan, he was spilling his seed down your throat. His breathing slowing, the waves of euphoria flowing throughout him. He stayed like that for a moment, relishing the feel of your throat around him.

At last, he released his death grip on your head. Slipping his cock from your throat with a hiss, his head sensitive. You gasped, panting in attempts to fill your lungs with the needed air.

With hooded eyes, Bucky gazed down at you with pleasure hazed eyes. His cock twitched at your flushed face, the tears tracks mixing with your spit— and his cum that had snuck out. Your eyes were slightly bloodshot, but as you gazed up at him— you were looking at him with such desire. You looked as if you were just getting started, and you wanted to devour him again.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered, voice hoarse.

He cradled your face, caressing your clammy cheek. He gently pulled you up, helping support your swaying state. You leaned into his palm, holding his gaze with adoration.

“I love you James.” You spoke into his palm, placing a kiss on his rough skin.

“I love you more baby.” He told you, wrapping his metal arm around your lower back, pulling you flush to him. “Now, let me return the favor.”

[solarmorrigan]

Steve Harrington is absolutely the sort of person to become emotionally dependent on a pet. He grew up lonely and he loves taking care of things, and here's this creature that loves him unconditionally and is dependent on him for care? He's a goner

He finds a kitten in his backyard, wet and cold and alone, but in pretty good shape, all things considered. It hisses and swipes at him, but it's also mewing pathetically, and Steve can't just leave it, so he manages to get the thing inside with minimal blood loss (all his) and cleans it up and feeds it. It's a lot more amenable to the idea of Steve once it's warm and dry and full, and by the end of the day, it's curled up and purring in the crook of his neck, and Steve is already prepared to die for this thing

He does recognize that the right thing to do is to ask around and see if anyone is missing a kitten, which he does do, but no one on his street or the next one over lays claim to it, and there aren’t any kind of wanted posters going up for it, so Steve decides he is now the proud owner of a cat

He names her Baby and dotes on her accordingly. (In his defense, the name is Robin's idea; she tells him that he treats the cat enough like a baby, so the name might as well fit. Steve's always been shit at coming up with names, so he just goes with it)

Baby is the world's most spoiled cat, which Steve readily admits. But isn't that what cats are for? She's a wonderful cat and she clearly deserves nice things and Steve is going to get them for her. Toys, treats, a plush cat bed, the best food, whatever he thinks she could possibly need or want. If "I work hard so my cat can live a better life" t-shirts had existed in the 80s, Robin probably would have gotten one for him and he probably would have worn it

Of course, it helps that Baby actually does adore Steve. With everyone else, she ranges from frosty to outright hostile (she's taken a particular dislike to Eddie, of all people, which is unfortunate, because Steve really, really likes Eddie); she'll consent to be admired, and she'll accept treats, and she might even let more familiar people pet her, but in the end she is very much Steve's baby. If he's home, she's stuck to his side like a burr, curled up wherever he is and purring away, content just to be with him. She still snuggles up in the crook of his shoulder at night, just like when she was a kitten, even though she's bigger now and is a bit less easily accommodated

It goes without saying that Baby is strictly an indoor cat. Steve lives right up against the woods and there are predators out there, and people in town drive like assholes, and Steve won't take the chance of her being eaten or run over or meeting some other horrible fate. He really doesn't think his heart could take it

But of course, because all cats are terrible bastards at heart (affectionate), Baby darts out the back door one day as Steve is coming in off the patio, chasing after some other small animal that Steve can't even see, and she's out of the backyard and up towards the trees before Steve can do much more than make a grab for her

And Steve, who has survived interrogations and monster attacks and many situations objectively much more stressful than this, does not panic. He does spend half the night wandering around in the trees with a flashlight, shaking a bag of cat food and calling for Baby, but that's not panicking, that's problem solving

He eventually gets too cold and too tired to keep going and has to pack it in for the night. He holds onto some shred of hope that she'll be waiting by the back door when he wakes up, wondering why the hell it's taken so long for him to come let her in, but apparently that's not the way life works, because the patio and all areas around the house are still distinctly catless come daybreak

Eddie shows up sometime mid-morning, just as Steve is preparing to head back out and look for her. He has genuinely never seen Steve so upset; he looks like he might actually cry if he doesn't find that damn cat, which just isn't something that Steve does. But he's actually fucking distraught, and Eddie simply can't have that, even if Baby is his nemesis, so he goes to the phone and makes some calls

He cashes in on favors, he makes promises, he actually agrees to pay Mike ten bucks to show up, but he gets the kids, all the older teens (the only reason Robin hadn't been there already is because Steve hadn't paused long enough to tell her what was going on), and even the Corroded Coffin boys up to Steve's house to comb the woods for Steve's damn cat

It's Eddie who finds her in the end, a shock of pale, mewling fur actually stuck in a fucking tree. The cliche nearly kills him – either that or trying to climb down a tree one-handed while holding a cat. He's surprised she actually lets him pick her up, but then again, she's been out here all night, she's cold, and at least she recognizes Eddie. Maybe this is the beginning of a truce

Or, she might go back to hissing and swiping at Eddie any time she the mood takes her, but Eddie doesn't even care, because Steve is elated to have Baby back, so fucking happy that he doesn't even seem to notice that she's digging her claws into his arm as she clings to him for dear life all the way back to the house. Eddie will deal with anything that Steve loves that much

Steve pays for pizza to thank everyone for putting their Saturday on hold to search-and-rescue a cat, and everyone warms up and eats their fill before slowly filtering back out of the house. And later, after Baby's been cleaned up and fed and properly doted on and is purring away curled up over a heating vent in the living room, Steve takes Eddie upstairs to show his thanks in a much more thorough manner

After all – Baby is very important to him, and he's more relieved than he can say to have her back, but she isn't the only thing that Steve adores

[reallyromealone]

Title: meow meow

Fandom: jujutsu kaisen

Characters: Gojo - Geto

Fic type: cat au

Pairings: Gojo x Geto

Warnings: male reader, reader insert, cat reader, cat characters, human characters fluff, child reader

Notes:

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Did Gojo just spend five thousand dollars for his cats?

Yes.

And was he ready to spend ten thousand more?

Absolutely.

Gojo watched as the tiny kitten stumbled around excitedly before standing on Gojos foot, the man leaning to pet little (name)s head as his bigger cat lounged on the tower, a pure white Turkish angora with striking blue eyes. Geto called him a narcissist for getting a cat just like him, he just wasn't expecting his cat to come home with a black male Norwegian forest cat and a tiny kitten.

"The black one looks like you" Gojo said to Geto who huffed at the sight of the black cat watching over the tiny kitten who played with a toy mouse as their white cat purrtoru watched from higher up, deeply protective of his family.

The two watched from the couch as purrtoru was making his way down to see his kitten... Only to try and take the toy.

And it wasn't for worry.

Purrtoru was just an asshole.

The tiny fluff ball meowed angrily as mewguru smacked the white cat angrily with a yowl as the tiny kitten went to the humans to fix the situation as he seen his dad's do before as the black haired one lifted the itty bitty "you're papa is an asshole" he said as Gojo huffed but pet the little kittens head, the two smiling as (name) put his tiny mitten on Geto's nose "still can't believe they just brought you home, knowing our bastards they kidnapped you " prime example mewguru came to retrieve his little baby.

The two watched as the cats cuddled on their bed, a nice dog bed that fit the three of them comfortably and (name) cozy and sleeping in between his dad's while purring like a motorboat. The two cats beside him grooming each other and occasionally giving kisses to the kittens head.

"I want a child" Gojo said suddenly and Geto spit his drink out.

"W H AT"

[haven-1307]

Can you imagine how tired Simon is with a missus who just…finds stray animals LMAO.

Like, she could be out on a walk and she hears meows and sees this tiny, malnourished orange kitten and without a second thought she just puts it in her pocket, a warm hand over her shaking body to try and warm the wee creature up who's purring like mad all hidden away.

The sheepish look at Simon as she enters the house, a few other animals she had found abandoned all streched out on the furniture, she looks up and Simon is just standing there, hands on hips. He knows that look. I've done it again Kind of look. with a dad sigh as he holds out his hands in preparation to inspect the newest member of the Riley family.

With a smile you gather the bundle of fur out your pocket and place her gently into his hands.

“Can we keep her?”

Those fucking pleading eyes you know he can't resist. you are going to be the death of him, love.

“Absolutely not. We have enough.” yes, of course you end up keeping it, This is one conversation he will never end up winning.

[sisaloofafump]

Thinking about Bruce getting hit by a spell that gives him catlike features for a year. It lasts long enough that he knows he can't hide it, so he integrates it into his public persona.

It doesn't really affect his Batman work. He perches on high places and turns away from physical affection like usual. His cowl already has places for ears and his tail is hidden by his cape. His balance is already so good. The eyes make his night vision better, the flexibility in his feet makes him swifter, he modifies the gloves to match Selina's claws.

But there are little things that change.

He's more sleepy, constantly, and it's rarely a deep nap but he nods off whenever he can. Every few days he needs to cuddle with someone safe and is restless and needy if he can't. His meals (already dense and few and far between) stick to a strict schedule. He sniffs things.

And with those that he's close to, it gets a little more apparent.

He deposits care packages at his kids' doors in the middle of the night with no explanation

He hisses at criminals

He licks his thumb and rubs sauce splatter off Alfred's face in the kitchen

Diana picks him up by the scruff like a misbehaving kitten and he just goes limp

Selina is having the absolute best time of her life. It doesn't matter that they're fighting, once she hears the news she runs back to Gotham and doesn't let him out of the bed for a week

She is, however, mockingly offended that he's both stolen her aesthetic and that he refuses to lean into it. She keeps making him catsuits. She "buys" him cat themed jewelry and he can't even complain about it because she's looking at him with such wonder and awe and then kissing him stupid

He melts into Clark's pets and practically climbs into his lap when they're alone. (Totally Platonically of course). He travels to Metropolis semi-regularly to take care of his cuddling needs away from the indignity of his household

He always checks and makes sure Superman's hair curl is perfect

Socialites love it. They pet his ears and his tail and he drapes himself over them pretending he loves it too, focusing all his attention on controlling his tail muscles and not letting it flick angrily

"Oh no, it didn't give me the muscles to purr" Brucie explains, and then he spots Friend! Ally! Lois Lane across the hall and starts purring up a storm

Lois is unbelievably smug as her and Bruce are nearly chased out by an incredibly jealous heiress

Both Cass and Stephanie are so excited and Steph stops avoiding patrols with Bruce because her need to sneak up behind him and pat his (cowled) head is too strong. He lets it happen. They work well together when she knows she's only allowed to keep it up if she follows all his other mission commands

Damian brings him pamphlets on feline health and behaviours and enforces strict adherence to its guidelines

Jason is insufferable about it, not lessening in his taunts even after the novelty has worn off for everyone else. Bruce once picks him up by the scruff and he goes limp

Wayne Foundation sells multiple photoshoot calendars, ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous. Selina (who is semi-publicly known to be Catwoman after her most recent arrests) directs them the shoot, to the horror of most of the crew

They sell out immediately

Lois buys all three and places the most scandalous in the kitchen with sticky notes covering the most sensitive areas (but leaving enough to let the imagination go wild). The wholesome one goes beside their bed and the mid tier one is on Clark's desk at the Planet. He moves it to Lois's desk. Lois changes his computer wallpaper a full frontal cat!Bruce nude

Bruce gets away with catnapping throughout any meeting he wants

He sets up a "nap room" attached to his office which provides ample excuse to sneak away or work on his batcomputer

Dick doesn't know how to feel. Humour, yes, but it reminds him of the cat themed entertainers at the circus and their acrobatic stunts. He teaches Bruce some of them. He doesn't say why (but Bruce knows)

Bruce chirps when he's sleepy. He curls up with Clark on the couch and Clark memorizes the sound

He accidentally chirps over comms once and without hesitation Clark and Diana reply back. The rest of the league is deeply confused but it becomes a nearly effective check in system for the Trinity

Clark subconsciously learns how to purr. Lois gives him absolute hell for it. The apartment vibrates minutely whenever Bruce is over

Bruce's ears and tail are horribly transparent about his emotions, especially negative ones. It's not purring or chirping that indicates contentment, but the lack of his tail's near constant flicking and ticked off ears

Tim is one of the only ones who tries to optimize the cat features as part of Batman. He isn't distracted by or infantilizing of them, but he also doesn't ignore them and pretend everything is the same

Duke thinks it's Bad Ass but doesn't push the gimmick when he realizes Bruce won't lean into it. He once snips off a piece of Bruce's fur on a dare by his civilian friends. He sells it for $690

Bruce goes cowl & capeless at core-group Justice League meetings because the suit still too constructing and sensory-overwhelming no matter how much he modifies it. His glare dares them to be distracted by it. They still are.

Most of them move on after a few months. Barry never does. Actually if we're being honest none of them do, but most of them stop hovering around and hoping to pet him. (And he trusts them. He allows some initial pets to get the curiosity out of their system. Until he gets overwhelmed and shuts it all down)

Hal is gravely injured on a mission and Bruce wraps him in his arms and purrs until evac arrives. They never talk about it again

Oliver wonders if he should get an animal themed transformation. Zatanna gives him a rat tail

Diana is delighted by the increased spring in his pounces and elects herself his principle sparring partner

(Dinah propositions him for a threesome. Bruce takes one look at Ollie's tail and walks away)

Bruce claws up Clark's cape and perches on his shoulders while he flies

He rips up little papers at his desk while working

When the batsignal goes up, he abandons everything and pounces towards it. Gordon finds him tapping at the bright light with his claw

Helena’s dog hates him

For a few weeks in the second month, he has two sets of canines as his adult cat teeth come in. What starts as a duo Alfred & Damian project to find appropriate teething material for Bruce that is a) effective and b) dignified enough Bruce would use it, spirals into a full batfamily effort. Too many people buy the exact same cheap adult batsignal chew necklace. Luke designs a high tech chewable batarang. Dick suggest an old cowl's ears. Finally someone brings him a chew necklace shaped like the Superman crest and Bruce gets way too much satisfaction walking out of a WE board meeting with an punctured and ruined El crest

Clark puts his hand on Bruce's shoulder during monitor duty, expecting either aloof rejection or a cuddle. Bruce bites him. That knocks the remaining baby teeth out

Diana performs his dental check ups because her fingers are strong but forgiving, and Clark Is Not Jealous

Bruce will give Jon and the shy children of socialites and WE employees piggybacks and let them play with his hair and ears, and or get away with tugging on his tail. It's uncomfortable, but he enjoys their glee and what little he can do to entertain them

Clark tries picking Bruce up by the scruff and Bruce hisses at him

Bruce only talks to J'onn telepathically

Unthinking, in an emergency, Bruce uses his serrated tongue and licks the kryptonite particles off of Clark's face

Inspired by the whiskers he unfortunately did not get, Bruce inputs sensors on the side of his cowl to help him judge what he's able to squeeze through

The one person who hates it is Kate. She attends some of the same events as Bruce as resents the attention he gets, both for his sake and because of her own annoyance. She thinks it's stupid how much mission time is wasted talking about it. She wishes it happened to her. She is Bruce's main ally in getting conversations back on track

Bruce gets so many love letters and proposals in the mail from all over the world. Selina puts them all in a binder and, even when wearing a disguise, pulls him closer whenever she sees one of the authors in person

Babs is (aside from changing some of his interface to have some cat themes) very professional about it. She low effort dresses up as a cat for a last minute Halloween event and Dick retches when she tries to flirt with him

Everyone buys him cat collars. Most are cheap gag gifts. Most are bat merch. Hal gives him a green lantern one. Steph gives him a Superman one.

Selina gives him dozens but the only one he'll wear isn't a collar at all but a lacy black choker with a dainty chain decal and a little heart charm. Bruce wears it to a gala and doesn't understand Clark's expression until he looks at it under a microscope. "Property of S". He looks into claw coverings Selina helped add to his gloves. "Property of C". Huh. Maybe that explains why Clark looked at them weird

His butt wiggles before he jumps

When the year is nearly up, Bruce pretends he won't mourn any of it and continues like normal. Selina debates trying to extend it. Zatanna could, but ultimately they decide to let it go

Unlike in the first week, Bruce and Selina fight a lot in the days before the end because emotions are high and Selina is clingy. It doesn't stop them from making the most of each night tho

Clark is disappointed that his time as Designated Bruce Cuddler and their semi-regular hangouts are coming to an end. Lois was dragging them through an X-Files marathon and they had only a couple seasons left

Diana gives in and takes him to the Andromeda Mall for a spa day so she can finally coo over him in relative privacy

When it ends, Bruce goes back to his old suit with no comment. He barely addresses the change and, aside from a few wayward jokes, people move on. But if they look closely, they'd see how the claws remain, and the springing support near his ankles

Selina leaves for a time after she realizes he wants to pretend it never happened and their increasing arguments were no longer tempered by sex. Bruce pretends it's not ironic that he'd lose two cat aspects of his life at once

Clark comes home late a few weeks later and finds Lois in her armchair and Bruce there with popcorn and X-Files queued up. Bruce sits on the opposite end of the couch, but he doesn't seem to mind when Clark tucks his legs up on the cushions and rests his feet against Bruce's thigh

Everyone still gives him cat toys too often

Selina spots Bruce in the lobby of her favourite ballet and the frills of a black lace choker are peaking out of his collar. She smiles

(Also for the next 4 years Hal will only show Batman as a cat during strategy simulations)

Anyway. Cat Bruce <33

[nightingale-prompts]

Introducing Kitten- Batboy AU-DCXDP

First | Previous | Next

Every great hero needs a sidekick but every amazing cat burglar should have a kitten.

Batman was ready for another chase with Catwoman. A Gotham bigwig was hosting a gallery opening with the Amazonian pink diamond as the centerpiece.

Just as expected Catwoman couldn't resist.

"Surrender the jewel Catwoman." Batman ordered as the cat burglar held the pink crystal up in the lowlight.

"But its so pretty~ I thought it would be the perfect gift for my little kitten." She purred.

"I don't think your cats would care. They would probably prefer a can of tuna to a priceless gem." Batman responded preparing to lounge for the diamond.

"Why don't you ask her?"

A shadow jumped out of the darkness grabbed the diamond and landed on the other side of the bat.

"Oh you shouldn't have~ I love it!~" The cheery voice of the shadow said.

Batman turned to see a young girl with twitching cat ears and a long tail waving behind her. She was dressed in a black leotard with a pair of black cargo pants and a cropped leather jacket. Around her neck a jewled collar rested with a little dog tag attached with a bell. Her green eyes glowed with mischief.

"Anything for you." Catwoman smiled.

Just like that Batman's attention was split as Kitten(?) bolted. The girl was fast but stepped carefully not to trigger the sensors. When he looked back Catwoman was gone and Kitten skittered to a stop only for-

*BRRRRIINNNGGG!*

The alarm went off.

He had stepped on a sensor.

"Good game old man! Let's play again sometime!" The girl said before disappearing around a corner.

*1 week ago*

Selina had actually gotten a bit of baby fever after little Nightwing had taken a little bat under his wing. The bat sidekick had been plastered all across the city from Bloodhaven to Gotham, even Metropolis had a few of the advertisements. Batburger even has a batboy meal now. All the candids on Instagram of Batboy's antics were absolutely adorable. Selina made the picture of Batboy shielding a bunch of stay cats under his wings in the rain her screensaver. Bless everyone working together to get as many pictures as possible.

Let's not even mention the time she saw the newest little Robin being carried from across the city by Batboy as they glided.

She would be fine of course after she found an adorable black kitten. She cleaned her up and put her in the warming box for the night. She planned to quarantine her from the other cats in her room. What Selina didn't expect was for the kitten to turn into a girl.

*Present*

Danny felt it again. There was something here. It felt foreign but familiar.

The energy felt reminiscent of...Nocturne? That's not right. No, it felt like primordial energy. Something isn't right.

Someone was here. Someone like him.