#this one sent me into a frenzy trying to get it done

[donothello]

Starvetober 2024 day 5!! Music

Today's idea was actually based on an idea for WX's chorus box by @dax-ish !

@crazysnor1ax

[inkandapex]

stream madness

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : To the world, Y/N had always been Lando Norris’ closest friend—before the fame, the podiums, and the roar of F1 engines. Their bond had always been well-known, shared through countless moments on and off camera. But as the months went on, something started to shift, and it wasn’t just between Y/N and Lando. It became apparent through streams, where their chemistry couldn’t be denied.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: some swearing

part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Max's Cooking Stream

“Done! I think they came out quite well,” Max announces, lifting the pan toward the camera, showing off the results of two hours in the kitchen.

The chat is already flooded with reactions—compliments, jokes, and the occasional disbelief at Max’s culinary skills.

"I'll be the judge of that" Lando states as he steps into view "Like master chef" he continues

Pietra is chatting with someone just out of view, her voice light and engaged. The mic, which has been filtering most background noise throughout the stream, only picks up bits and pieces of conversation—muffled words, distant laughter. But this moment? This one, it catches perfectly.

Lando steps away from where Max’s mic is propped, moving slightly out of frame. He reaches for a fork, his attention focused on someone unseen. And then, clear as day, his voice carries through.

"Love, come here a sec. Try it with me."

The chat explodes. But all three were too busy to realize what had just happened

"LOVE?? did he just say love??" "Stop rn who is he talking to" "someone find out rn pls" "it might be y/n, she was seen with them around monaco yesterday" "yeaa he calls her love sometimes i think its just a normal endearment for them lol"

All three, oblivious to the brewing chaos, all continue with what they were doing. Because whether it was intentional or not, Lando just dropped something big.

"Y/N’s here too, everyone! The whole gang’s here—Y/N, say hello to the chat," Max finally acknowledges, glancing at the flood of messages. It’s clear he’s doing some damage control, but the chat is already too far gone.

With a small wave and an amused little smile, Y/N finally steps into frame, grabbing a fork as she inches closer to the pan of food her friends have spent the past two hours making.

"Doesn’t look half bad, to be honest," she muses, inspecting the dish. "P’s really doing wonders, getting you this far into cooking."

Pietra laughs in the background while Max rolls his eyes, but before anyone can add to the banter, Y/N is already taking a bite.

"You’ve gotta—"

"Bloody hell—"

Lando’s warning comes a second too late. Y/N’s eyes widen as the heat hits, steam practically pouring out of her mouth as she waves a hand in front of her face, trying to cool down.

"You muppet, that’s literally fresh off the stove—c’mere," Lando chuckles, already unscrewing a bottle of water. He hands it to her, shaking his head as she takes it gratefully.

The chat? Utterly unhinged.

"NOT THE WAY HE JUST—"

"‘C’mere’ HE SAID ‘C’MERE’ I’M GONNA SCREAM."

"I AM LIVING FOR THIS CHAOS."

And just like that, what was supposed to be a casual cooking stream has become a full-blown internet event.

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Lando's Annual Stream

Everyone teases Lando about how he’s practically become a Twitch relic, only gracing the platform with his presence once a year. A far cry from the frequent streams he used to do. Some argue that it makes his rare appearances even more iconic, like a seasonal event the internet gathers for.

On one of his rare Twitch streams, Lando found himself diving into Backrooms with Max and a few other friends. As expected, chaos ensued—shouting, panicked laughter, and the occasional unintelligible screaming into the mic. But one moment, in particular, sent the fans into an absolute frenzy.

The doorbell rings, making both Ed and Lando pause mid-game and glance at each other.

"Food’s here," Lando announces into the mic.

Ed, already taking off his headset, ready to stand up. But just as Ed moves, they both hear the faint sound of the door unlocking.

"Oh, I think Y/N’s grabbing it, mate," Ed says, blinking in surprise. He relaxes back into his seat for a second before standing up anyway. "I’ll go help her."

"SHES STILL IN MONACO" "i thought she went back to London with Max and P" "omg she's staying with lando" "loool stop reading into it guys ed's also staying with lando. theyre just friends" "my delusions are being fed"

Both Y/N and Ed return, arms full with bags of food and cutlery. Ed drops back into his chair, already digging into his meal, while Y/N pauses beside Lando, holding a box of food in her hands.

"Do you want yours transferred to a plate, or is the box good?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Like that is fine, thank you—oh, I’m streaming, by the way. They can see and hear you," Lando adds with a grin as he takes the box from her.

Y/N barely reacts, too used to this by now. Instead, she casually leans in slightly, scanning the chat as she asks, "Is Max here? Can you tell him to let P know I’ve been trying to call her?"

Lando doesn’t even look away from his screen. "He can hear you—he says sure. You wanna sit here and eat with us?"

She shakes her head, stepping back. "I’m good, got my own thing going on. I’ll see if I can join you guys later if you’re still on. Do you want water or anything?"

Lando glances up at her, smiling. "I’m good, I can grab some myself later."

"You know he’s lying, right?" Ed chimes in, chewing his food. "He’s just gonna wait until you leave so he can ask me to grab it for him."

"Shut up," Lando laughs, shaking his head.

Y/N only smirks knowingly before rolling her eyes. "Alright, whatever you say."

"Okay, okay, go back to doing your thing," Lando says, refocusing on his screen. "Connor’s complaining we’re taking too long."

The chat, meanwhile, is already in shambles.

"She’s literally taking care of him at this point.""Ed exposing Lando is my new favorite thing.""The domestic energy here is sending me."

"What is she up to now? Too busy to play with us?" Max teases as they dive back into the game.

"Nah, mate, she's busy building Legos in the other room," Lando replies casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Max snorts. "Another new hobby? You know she gave us a shit ton of air-dry clay stuff she made that one time. My apartment is literally full of it."

"No, Max, I stepped into the apartment today, and I genuinely thought I was in a Lego store. It’s insane," Ed laughs, shaking his head.

Lando chuckles. "Some of them are mine too, alright? They're not all hers. She’s been building some sets I’ve had lying around for ages."

The chat, of course, goes wild.

"Their apartment is a Lego store. I am crying." "WAIT SO THEY HAVE BEEN LIVING TOGETHER RIGHT??" "Domestic life with Y/N and Lando sounds like a fever dream."

Max just laughs. "Well, tell her to finish up and come scream with us in the Backrooms when she’s done playing with her bricks."

------------------------------------------------------------

Taking Lando's Seat

The stream opens with Lando and Max sitting side by side, each focused on their own PC as they prep for a game of Tarkov. There’s an easy banter in the air, Max teasing Lando about his gear while the two get things set up. But it’s the subtle detail in the background that catches the chat's attention—Lando’s racing rig.

It’s glowing softly in the background, the LED lights creating an almost otherworldly vibe against the dim room.

Max finally glances at the chat, giving a quick nod to thank some of his new subs. But his eyes stop when he spots a few of the comments scrolling by.

Max smirks, leaning into the mic with a grin. "The rig? Oh—it's Y/N. She’s playing F1 right now."

With that, Max casually moves his chair out of the way, revealing Y/N sitting just behind him. She's fully immersed, headset on, brows furrowed in concentration as she steers through a corner on screen, oblivious to the fact that she’s now in full view of the chat.

A small smile tugs at the corner of Lando’s lips as he turns back to look at Y/N, still fully engrossed in the game, unaware that both he and Max are watching her with amusement.

"She's prepping for the season too," Lando continues, keeping his voice casual, though there’s a playful edge to it. "Chat, I think she’s planning on taking my seat—she’s been on there for hours now."

Lando laughs, but the chat immediately picks up on the vibe.

"HE'S JEALOUS, LOOK AT HIM."

"Lando knows he's been replaced."

"Imagine Y/N taking his F1 seat. I’d pay to watch that."

Max, who’s been watching the scene unfold, looks back at Lando with a raised brow. "She’s putting in more practice than you are, mate. Maybe she is taking your seat."

Lando chuckles, shaking his head, though his smile lingers. "Nah, nah, she’s still got a lot to learn... but she’s getting there. I’m just here for moral support."

The chat, of course, has already spirals into chaos.

"Moral support? He’s just trying to hold on to his seat!"

"I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE RACE BETWEEN THEM. WHO’S GONNA WIN??"

"Lando’s literally her biggest fan and her biggest competitor at the same time. I love it."

Y/N, still completely absorbed in the game, lets out a frustrated grunt as she crashes into the wall during a tight turn. "I've fucking crashed—how is AI Lando also a little shit?"

The pair immediately burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. The moment is too perfect—Y/N, so focused on her race, completely unaware she’s been on stream the whole time.

Max wipes away tears, trying to calm down. "What?" Y/N finally takes off her headset after pausing her game, looking around in confusion, only to notice the commotion between the two.

"We’re on Twitch," Max manages between laughs, still struggling to breathe. "They heard you calling Lando a little shit."

Max, still grinning, leans back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "I mean, I honestly don’t know if you should be more offended by the fact that she just called you a little shit... or the fact that she’s not racing as you."

Lando looks over at Max, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, who are you racing as right now?" His curiosity gets the best of him, and he stands up, walking behind Y/N to peer over her shoulder at her screen.

Y/N barely notices him, still intensely focused on her race. "You’re racing as Max?!" Lando exclaims, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "I feel so betrayed!"

Y/N doesn’t respond, grabbing her water bottle beside her, taking a sip.

But Lando’s eyes widen as he looks at her screen again. "Wait, you're were P3?!" he says, his voice rising in shock. "What the fuck, Y/N—this is on 110 difficulty—did you change it?"

"Yeah, well I was but you crashed into me you knob"

Lando's completely taken aback, mouth agape, staring at her settings in awe. Without thinking, he takes over the controls, fully inspecting her game setup. "This is... this is insane. You’re actually doing really well."

Y/N, now realizing the level of chaos happening around her, turns to look at him with a grin. "What? Like its hard?"

Max, who’s been watching this unfold, laughs. "I told you she’d be better than you at this rate. I’m not surprised."

The chat, of course, is losing it.

"SHE'S RACING AS MAX AND BEATING LANDO. WHAT A MOOD."

"Y/N: 1, Lando: 0."

"Lando looks like he’s seen a ghost. How did she do that?"

Y/N just laughs, clearly loving the moment. "I told you, Lando, I’m coming for your seat."

"Alright, we've got to put a screen time limit on you from now on, love—fucking hell," Lando says, still shaking his head in disbelief, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He ruffles her hair affectionately before heading back to his seat.

The chat explodes with excitement.

"Lando’s whipped for her. I can’t breathe.""The way he ruffled her hair? That’s the couple energy we’re here for.""Y/N just casually destroying him, and Lando’s still soft with her. I’m obsessed.""I can’t believe they’re just out here living their best life on stream. I’m living for this dynamic."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Gaming Trio

The trio can be seen in Lando’s usual gaming spot, the atmosphere relaxed but buzzing with excitement. In an effort to accommodate everyone, an extra table has been pulled into the room, holding the laptop they’ve set up for Y/N so she can join in on the fun. The new setup feels a little crowded, but it only adds to the chaotic energy that’s been building up since they all logged in.

"Y/N is right behind you!" Max shouts into the mic, pulling the same trick he did to Lando the last time they played Backrooms

"Max, shut up, oh my gosh—NO IT'S CHASING ME, WAIT—PAUSE IT, PAUSE IT!" The panic in Y/N’s voice is unmistakable, and it sends both Lando and Max into fits of laughter.

Max, already losing it, grins widely. "You’re telling me to pause, but I’m the one who’s not controlling it!"

Lando, equally amused, can’t help but tease, hiding comfortably from the monster "Didn’t know you were this scared of a game, love."

Y/N’s frantic clicking can be heard through the mic as she scrambles to escape whatever horror was chasing her in the game. "I can’t— I swear it’s going to catch me!"

A sigh of relief escapes Y/N’s mouth as she finally reaches the room, the monster stopping its chase just in time. “Right, so you two do all the work and I’ll run out when it’s time to escape.”

Max lets out another laugh, clearly amused. “That’s not how it works, Y/N. You've got to carry your weight”

“Come on then, let’s go. Just stay behind me and you’ll be fine.” Lando moves his character closer to hers, ready to lead the way.

Y/N, still a little nervous, responds with a grin. “I’ll keep my eyes closed.”

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “Y/N—darling, it’s fine. It’s not that scary. It’s not gonna jump out at you. You just die and respawn, it’s all good.”

Max joins in, teasing, “Yeah, but if you keep closing your eyes, you’ll miss the whole thing. We’ll be done before you even open them.”

Y/N scoffs but can’t help but laugh, her character hesitating slightly. “I’m not opening them. I’m just here to run when the time comes.”

Lando smiles at her, his voice light. “Alright, well, try not to panic. We’ve got your back.”

The chat erupts in excitement, fans loving the playful back-and-forth between them.

"Y/N’s already planning her escape route. Classic." "he calls her darling im sobbing " "Lando’s trying to act all calm but he’s lowkey making sure she’s okay." "Max is enjoying this way too much, lol."

Lando glances at Y/N with a grin. “Stay close, alright? We’re doing this together.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

Y/Ns Instagram Live

Y/N was live on Instagram, chatting with fans while showing off her latest air-dry clay creations. She’d been getting non-stop requests to share her work ever since Max mentioned it in one of his streams, and now here she was, crafting away on camera.

Sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, Y/N focused on the delicate jewelry plate she was shaping. She was giving her followers a detailed look at her process, her hands moving skillfully as she explained what she was doing.

"See, then you build the sides and stick it to the plate part you just made," she said, carefully adding a border to the plate. "So it kinda has a nice little border around it, and that way, you can put your jewelry in the middle without it all rolling off."

"Who you talking to?" A voice, unmistakably Lando's, makes Y/N's head snap up to look at him, her concentration momentarily broken.

Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him standing in the doorway, and she quickly responds, trying to maintain the calm vibe of her live stream. "I'm on Instagram live— you didn’t see my text?" Y/N says, her voice soft but carrying a hint of a warning as she tries to focus on her work again.

Lando, walks into frame to stand beside her, only half his body on screen. “I saw it, but I didn’t think you’d actually be live. What’s going on in here?”

"I'm doing a jewelry plate tutorial, see?" Y/N smiles up at him, gently lifting the plate to show him the progress she’s made, the edges perfectly formed and the design coming together nicely.

Lando leans in a little closer, clearly impressed. "That's actually pretty sick. Have you shown them the other ones you've done?"

"Mhmm," Y/N nods, setting the plate back down on the table and continuing to work on it. "I did earlier. I have a few that are dried, so once I'm done with this one, I'm gonna show them how I paint it."

"Cool, cool," Lando says, grinning as he takes a step back. "I’m actually pretty curious about the painting part."

Y/N shoots him a glance, arching an eyebrow. "You want in on this too?"

Lando looks at her, then at the camera, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Can I join you?"

Y/N pauses for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face. "You gonna try your hand at some clay art, Norris?" she teases, but her tone is warm.

"Gotta try to beat you in something after you've somehow managed to get close to beating me on the racing sim" a smirk on his face as he plops down on the floor beside her "Right what am I meant to do?"

The two sat mostly in silence, both deeply immersed in their work. Y/N’s focus was on finishing her jewelry plate, the soft clink of clay against the table the only sound as she shaped it carefully. Lando, on the other hand, was determined to paint one of the already dried plate, though it was clear his attention was divided between the task and watching Y/N work.

"Oh, I’ve messed up, bub," Lando admitted, his voice a little defeated. "I’m sorry, this looks horrific. I think I’ve ruined it." He leaned back dramatically, letting his shoulders slump as he rested his back against the foot of the sofa, casting an apologetic look her way. "This is a disaster."

"What? No! It's cute—you even painted flowers on it, it's nice!" Y/N exclaimed, her tone playful as she tried to hype him up, a grin tugging at her lips.

Lando looked at her with a raised eyebrow, clearly amused. "Those are strawberries, you muppet," he said, laughing as he gently nudged her with his elbow, clearly not buying her attempt to boost his confidence.

Y/N burst out laughing, her hands up in surrender. "Oh, I'm only kidding! Of course they're strawberries," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

She quickly mouthed a playful I didn’t know to the camera as Lando became distracted with his painting again, a smirk creeping up on her face as she watched him carefully work on his next stroke.

"add bub to the list of names lando calls y/n" "theyre actually so cute im going insane" "not y/n gentle parenting lando" "im telling my therapist about this" --------------------------------------------------

I'm telling mom

Max’s loud voice cut through the quiet apartment, shattering the late-night calm. It was already past 10 PM, and he’d been streaming for over two hours, fully immersed in whatever chaos his Twitch chat had cooked up for him.

“Y/N! Get in here a sec!” Max’s voice carried from his gaming room, loud enough to startle Y/N from where she sat beside P, half-watching a Netflix show.

With a sigh, she got up, padding toward his room. She hesitated at the door, peeking inside carefully, mindful of the camera that might be angled her way.

“It’s almost 11 PM, Max. What the fuck are you yelling about?” she laughed, eyes landing on him. He stood in the middle of the room, VR headset strapped on, controllers gripped tightly like his life depended on it. "You look ridiculous by the way"

“Can you call Lando? He’s fucking with me,” Max huffed, shifting on his feet like he was bracing for something. “He told me to download this horror VR game, and now he’s in chat claiming he’s in bed. I swear to God—he set me up.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Y/N started, arms crossed. “You want me to call Lando—”

“Yep.”

“—to ask him to get out of bed and play a game with you—”

“Mhm.”

“—instead of letting him sleep, because it’s nearly midnight in Monaco?”

“Exactly.” Max stood firm, pointing a VR controller at her like this was a life-or-death situation.

Y/N blinked. “Oh, you’re serious—right.” She sighed, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, already dialing.

“I swear, if he doesn’t hop on after I’ve set this up and put my contacts in—”

“Lan, you’re on speaker,” Y/N announced the second he picked up, barely giving him a chance to breathe.

Before Lando could even say hello, Max exploded. “You muppet! I’ve been standing here waiting for you for the past ten minutes!”

“Oh, piss off! I’ve been waiting for you for nearly an hour, Max! Can’t believe you actually made Y/N call me for this.”

“You weren’t picking up my calls!”

Y/N let out a slow, tired sigh and turned to the camera with a deadpan look, the exact kind of exhausted stare straight out of The Office.

“So you tell on me?! How mature,” Lando huffs

“Just hop on the game!” Max shot back, exasperated.

“This behaviour at 25 is diabolical,” Y/N muttered, dragging a hand down her face.

Through the speaker, you could hear Lando moving around. “Fine, fine! Okay, I’m on,” Lando said, voice muffled as he adjusted his setup. “Max, hurry up—I’ll send Y/N the code. Love, show him the code before you leave.”

Y/N sighed, holding up her phone as she walked over to Max. “Right. I’ve been dragged from my peaceful night just to moderate a sibling fight.”

Max squinted at the screen. “Got it. Thanks, Mom—right, I’m joining. You can leave now.” He was already fumbling with the game settings, barely paying her any attention.

Y/N rolled her eyes as Lando’s voice softened on the phone. “I’ll call you later, alright? Go watch your show with P. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N hummed in response, finally making her escape.

As soon as she was gone, Max turned back to chat, shaking his head. “Right, let’s go. See? He’s such a knob—I have to call Y/N every time he’s being an ass because he actually listens to her.”

The chat was loving this interaction

"Y/N staying with Max and P is actually so wholesome" "NOT Y/N BEING MOM" "LANDO LISTENING TO Y/N ONLY IS PEAK BF BEHAVIOUR U CANT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE" " "i'll call you later" is so cute he's down bad for her"

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Big Reveal

At this point, they’d practically exposed themselves. The subtle interactions hadn’t gone unnoticed—small moments that seemed insignificant alone but painted a clear picture together. The lingering looks, the casual slips of affectionate nicknames, the way their conversations always carried a certain ease.

Everyone had a general understanding that the two were a couple, but they’d come to accept that Lando and Y/N weren’t quite ready to make it official—at least, not publicly. But what really sealed the deal? Max’s most recent stream, just before the season kicked off.

“Right, chat, Lando and I are finishing up the download, and we’ll hop on as soon as it’s done,” Max said, scrolling through chat and tossing out quick thanks for subs and gifted memberships while they waited.

“Is anyone else joining us or nah?” Lando asked, finally looking up from his phone where he sat beside Max, his own setup in front of him.

“Nah, don’t think so. Connor just texted—he’s out,” Max replied, making Lando nod before going back to whatever he was scrolling through.

“Chat, I’ll be back—I’m gonna grab some water,” Max announced, tapping his mic to mute it before standing up.

Completely unaware, Lando reached over and tapped the mic again, turning it back on.

“Baby?! C’mere a sec!” Lando called out, sitting with his back to the camera, casually waiting for someone to walk in—completely oblivious to the absolute chaos erupting behind him.

“OH BOB, YOU’RE NOT MUTED!!” “HES HOPELESS.” “NOOOOOOO LN TURN AROUND!!!” “HE FULLY EXPOSED HIMSELF IM CRYING.” "baby??!"

A moment later, Y/N appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Hello my pretty girl, wanna come join Max and I?" “Aren’t you live with Max right now?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, yeah, I muted it—don’t worry,” Lando reassured her without a second thought. “Wanna join? Max is still downloading it, we can set yours up if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go grab the laptop.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Max walked back in, settling into his chair. “What were you two chatting about?” he asked as he put his headset back on.

“Y/N’s gonna play with us,” Lando answered smoothly. “Oh—by the way, I muted your mic. Chat can’t hear you right now.”

Max blinked. “Well, yeah, I muted it before I left—” His head snapped toward Lando. “Did you fucking tap the mic again?”

Lando visibly paled. “…No, I muted it.”

Max hurriedly glanced at chat, eyes scanning the messages flooding in before exhaling sharply. “You fucking unmuted it, you idiot.”

Lando sat there, frozen. Then, with an almost comically slow realization, he sighed. “Damn… well. Secrets out.”

Y/N practically skipped into the room, excitement clear in the way she carried her laptop against her chest. But the moment she stopped behind the two, her smile faltered.

Max and Lando both looked at her with identical guilty expressions.

“…What?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Your dimwit of a boyfriend just exposed you two. He unmuted the mic.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “No...”

Lando was already reaching for her hand, pulling her close. “I’m so sorry, baby. I swore I muted it.”

Y/N groaned, running a hand down her face. “Oh my God. How bad?”

Max snorted, scrolling through chat. “Let’s see… ‘We’re witnessing a live trainwreck,’ 'my pretty girl', ‘Bruh did he just expose himself?’ ‘Send help, I can’t breathe,’ and—oh, this one’s gold—‘My parents are finally public.’

Lando groaned, burying his face in Y/N’s side. “This is your fault, Max.”

“My fault?! You tapped the damn mic!”

The two went back and forth, bickering like a couple of siblings, while Y/N just stood there, still trying to wrap her head around what was going on.

“Oh, Y/N, come on. Don’t worry. It’s not like it’s a big surprise. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either.”

“Yeah, but until now, it was all just rumors and whispers.”

Lando shot her a reassuring smile. “Aww, baby, it’s fine. They love you, you know.”

Max groaned, leaning back in his chair and teasing them both. “See? Now he’s gonna go full PDA mode, more than he already does. We’re all doomed.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. “I swear, I can already see it.”

Lando reached over to take her hand, squeezing it gently. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Max teased, rolling his eyes. “Just wait till he starts calling you ‘babe’ every two seconds on stream.”

Lando grinned mischievously. “You love it, Max. Admit it.”

Max shot him a playful glare. “I’m really starting to think I’ve been cursed.”

“Right, come on then, let’s play before I get called for an impromptu PR meeting,” Lando chuckled, giving Y/N a wink as he pulled his headset on.

[goodeapple]

divine timing, or something like it (alpha!aemond targaryen x omega!oc)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : ABO dynamics (which imo, comes with obvious dubious consent), dreams of knotting, the standard Targcest good times that is my bread & butter

word count : 6,000+

note : i can't believe this thing is actually seeing the light of day and (hopefully) breaking me out of my writer's block. hope ya love it, idc if ya hate it <33

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Gods, she can't fucking breathe.

Ysilla gasps wildly, one desperate inhale after another. She rips at the soft sweetheart rise of her dress' neckline with frenzied hands, nails sharp and fraying the delicate stitchings. Good, let her ruin it then, if the soaking rush of slick that's wetting her thighs hasn't stained the fabric beyond measure already.

Her cunt is a river, the swollen lips of her flower sopping and sliding along one another, and if she clenches her muscles just so, hot tiny tingles burst like sparks in her tummy. There's a pressure building, not quite unlike the kind that has her relieving herself at daybreak, but something just south of there. More pleasant, more tight. 

She careens into the side of a writing desk, the wind whooshing out of her as her stomach greets the sturdy wood. Her fingers scrabble for purchase- to anchor her down, to tear her forward, she is unsure. All she knows is that every inch of her body hurts and she'd do anything to make it better.

Her chamber door opens and it seems her prayers for help have been answered. 

"What have you gotten yourself into now, Niece?" Aemond spits, barely concealed fury fizzing and frothing at his edges. Dinner was a fucking disaster, one he enjoyed aiding in. Riling up the Strong boys had brought him more joy than he could ever remember experiencing, but the long night to get there made him want to sever the very head from his body.

Rhaenyra and her doting bitch of a husband, with their identical downturned scowls and judging eyes, laughing and snorting carefree at the end of the table. His ghoulish corpse of a father forcing them all to lend an ear to that insufferable speech. So many sons, they all blurred one into the other, all sharing the features of their mother and that of whomever their fathers may be. The hair color used to help keep them sorted but now, two fair haired sniveling brats have been added to the brood and Aemond can't keep track. 

And then, of course, there's Ysilla, with her nose upturned and self-righteousness a thick cloud perfuming her. The firstborn to the King's favorite. Destined to only receive the best and apparently, from her attitude, it's never enough. 

And now, even after he's done his duty to his mother and put on the best face he could manage tonight (before it all went belly up), it seems he still cannot escape the bastards of his blood.

"No, no, no, get him out of here!" Ysilla screams at the petrified servant girl, who doesn't even have the good fucking sense to fake like she's trying to obey the future Crown's wishes, and instead flutters soft lashes to the Targaryen son in hope of help. The girl is a waif of creamy alabaster skin and yellow blonde hair, all of it pinned underneath a sage colored cap. Her cheeks are a pinched red; delicate circles of color that match the flush of her lips. And she's looking at Aemond like he'll save her from the hellish wench that she's been stuck waiting on since Ysilla and her family returned to the capital. 

Ysilla snarls, angrier than a dragon with a toothache. "Fine then, if you are so miserably incompetent, then you leave!" Her mother would smack her in the mouth if she heard her being such a pain, but Ysilla would spit at the King himself with the agony that churns in her gut.

 

Damn these people, don't even know how to listen to the heiress. Ysilla growls, before a clenching cramp bows her over, sending her grasping for the edge of the desk before she can crumple onto the top of it. 

"You sent her for help, and this is how you treat her?" 

"Help? You?" Her snort is indignant but she deems it appropriate. 

"You are so like your mother, aren't you." It isn't a question as much as it's an accusation. Ysilla bristles at the disgust layered in between the clearly enunciated words. Aemond speaks to be heard- their family dinner drove that point home like a stake through the ground. And for him to disrespect her mother- the heir- so blatantly and in front of others, makes her vision glow crimson. 

"And damn proud of it." She spits out, watching through blurry eyes as Aemond holds the door open for the maid and softly hushes her quivering apology. He's so gentle with her, even pushing the door shut with less force than a strong gust of wind, as if he doesn't wish to frighten the girl anymore than Ysilla apparently has.

But yet, whenever he looks at her- his own kin- it's with a roughness that rivals dragon scales. Ysilla's skin shivers in annoyance, and she tears at her bracelets until the bangles free her wrists and fall to the floor in a bejeweled rain. 

"What's happening to me?" She whines, fear starting to creep over her. Mayhaps she's coming down with a fever. It would explain her scorching complexion, and the delirium plaguing her good sense. She's just not familiar with any sickness that makes her cunt wetter than the tides. 

"What is the meaning of all this?" Aemond's barbed words cut off in a choke, his hand flying to his nose as if to shield himself from something hideous. He sputters, his solo eye wrenching shut before he sucks in a heavy breath. 

The rise and fall of his chest grows labored, and Ysilla watches cautiously as he blinks himself back into the moment. His eye, once calculating and acutely focused, has gone hazy and the black dot in the center seems to have gulped down the silver steel of his iris. He looks at her then, truly looks at her, for the first time in years and takes stock of what lies in front of him. Ysilla feels no better than that roasted pig on the silver platter, left untouched on the dinner table. 

Every spot on her body that is roamed over by his singular sight erupts in a flaming burst, every sinew and stretch of supple skin being forged anew under her uncle's attention. The look on his face is one she's never seen before and she tries to find it within herself to be scared. Frightened. Petrified. Because all of his lingering animosity is absent, his signature sneer long gone and in their place, hunger has laid waste to his beauty. The Princess whimpers, the tightening behind her navel becoming nearly unbearable.

"Seven above… you're presenting." The awe in Aemond's tone is soft and it feels like balm on a blister. His voice is spiced wine and she wants to steal a sip. Ysilla blinks at him as his words register, annoyed confusion poking through the airiness of her uncle's voice. 

"What am I presenting?" 

Aemond looks at her, before he laughs. He laughs! Ysilla wasn't sure her uncle even knew how to do so. His laughter dies down into a chuckle, and he hums. "My silly girl… my Silli girl."

Ysilla melts into an even bigger puddle. Her shorthand from his lips is enough to have her swooning- he never calls her by her name. Never has he said it before so sweetly, gently, either. She enjoys it- no, she adores it. She wishes he'd say it again. She wishes for him to be closer, too, so that she can smell the musk of his odor, feel the rise of his chest… taste the flavor of his mouth-

Dinner, fighting, turmoil, all flow back into her mind, drowning her lust in a tidal pool of sense. 

"Qyybor, wait- do you know what's happening to me?" Ysilla will never doubt her willpower again as she pushes away from the desk and further into her apartments (further away from him). She shadows the wall, a shaky hand drifting along the cool stone to keep her steady. 

"Your true nature is coming through. The dawning of your destiny, burning its way through your very veins." Aemond's melodic tenor drops out, and Ysilla bites into her cheek to keep herself from begging him to continue. "Did your mother not tell you of this?"

"No, no, I don't- she didn't- ugh, I don't even know what this is! My 'true nature'? Speak plainly, Uncle. If you're here, help me." She groans, stilling in her movement. Walking is perhaps not the right answer. The continual brush of her thighs, the clenching of her abdomen, it all makes her cunt pound.

"Easy, Ysilla, relax." 

Her name again. Her spine jolts uncontrollably and she gasps. She presses her forehead into the wall, traitorous tears being summoned by the exquisite burn casting her aflame. 

She spooks like a frightened fawn as fingertips ghost over her exposed shoulder. Flinging herself away, a full circle now, Ysilla finds her back to the door and Aemond still in front of her. His hand remains outstretched, as if cast in plaster, frozen in a moment of emblazoned curiosity.

Or more, in a moment of desperate desire, per Aemond's swirling thoughts. He swings his head slowly to face Ysilla, the pearlescent wave of his hair slicing over his shoulder like a star through the sky. He feels too big for his skin, the very tissue of him, the sweet marrow in his bones pulsing, begging to be set loose and allowed to feast on the pretty little pound of flesh being presented to him. He wants to… well, he knows what he wants to do.

Her moans are soft, sweet, like succulent summer fruit, ripe and juicy and beseeching a hungry mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of her lips to accompany the rough roll of his hips. His swollen knot tugs at the delicate tissue of her stretched opening, and the hot rush of ecstasy through her veins has gooseflesh rising along her naked skin. 

The rattle of the doorknob draws Aemond's attention to where it's demanded- on his Omega niece. Her fingertips just barely brush over the handle of the exit, one if she were to disappear through, he's sure she would be gone forever.  

"Don't run, zaldrītsos," Ysilla stumbles for breath at the Valyrian croon, wrapped up in the pretty bow of her uncle's spiked honeyed tone. He's so big, when did he get so big? Where was the boy she had stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her whole childhood? In his place now, a man grown. A man with strong, spread shoulders and capable hands, long legs and toned thighs. A man with a face chiseled and sharp, but soft in the perk of his lips. And an all consuming want in his eye for her.  

"I'll catch you. And I'll make you regret leaving me."

Something ancient inside of her roars to life, and the pulse between her legs and the beat inside of her chest are one in the same. 

"You don't own me…" 

Her uncle raises a brow, lips quirked up in a sinister sort-of smile. Ysilla bites at the tip of her tongue, keeping herself quiet, his name dancing at the backs of her teeth. 

You don't own me, Aemond.

You're still not good enough, Aemond. 

I'm meant for someone else, Aemond.  

He will accept none of the unvoiced.

She sees the muscle in his jaw flex and like the prey she is, she takes her chance. Ysilla is out the door and flying down the hall in a matter of seconds, her feet faster than her mind. She passes others, faceless smears of startled eyes and miffed mouths, not allowing her eyes to stray from the focused path in front of her.

One foot in front of the other, her skirts hiked high to her knees, slippers threatening to skid across the stones. Ysilla's lungs burn as she rounds another corner, dashing down a narrow staircase with far too much speed. She streaks through the night air like a lightning bug, her own gasps for air roaring in her ears. And if she strains her hearing just so, somewhere close behind the thundering of her heart, there's heavier footfalls in pursuit. In pursuit of her. The echoing memory of Aemond's laugh rings like sept bells in her head. 

I don't want to run from this. I don't want to run from him. 

The very appearance of that thought has Ysilla stilling in an instant. Her heels screech into the stone beneath her, the muscles in her calves twisting in tight terrible spasms. The hall she's found herself in is a well lit tomb, the final resting place of the girl she used to be and not yet the woman she'll become. 

Arms snake around her waist and the warmth of them sinks through the fine thread of her clothes. Smoke and citrus, oranges if she's being specific, wafts into her nose and she's never before felt a hunger like the one that bursts to life within her.  

"Got ya." Aemond whispers into her ear and Ysilla trembles at the dampness of his breath. He's caught her- he's won her. To the victor go the spoils. 

She's already rucking up her dress skirts to her hips to meet Aemond's hand palming at her mound. He presses hard into the bush of curls contained by her small clothes before guiding his touch further beneath her. He dips his fingertips just slightly in, pressing her soaked under slip into the blossoming folds of her core. 

"Ohhh, you're drenched, sweet girl." Aemond coos, his forearm a bar over her chest, caging her in from shoulder to shoulder. "Is this all for me?" 

Ysilla burns, in face and in cunt, letting her head drop back against his chest. He brushes his lips over the edge of her brow, and she lets a full body shiver race through her. 

"It got worse… when you were near me. I noticed it at dinner." She kept stealing looks all night at him, and for the life of her, couldn't figure out why. From where she was tucked by her mother, it had been easy to peek around her and drink her fill of her silent, brooding uncle. 

"That's why you were looking at me." He chuckles, smothering his face into her hair. He breathes in, filling his lungs with her sea salt scent. He caught a whiff of her earlier, when they all gathered to break bread, and not a scrap of food on the table was as tempting as her. 

Spurred on by the realization that it must've been him, the two of them in such close proximity after how many years apart, that has brought forward the truth of her blood is all the justification Aemond needs to take what is his. 

"Only for me." His voice is a rumbled growl and his fingers move faster, rubbing little circles over the covered peak of her clit. 

"Only for you." Ysilla moans, unable to think anymore. Her backside curves on an animal instinct, situating herself into the spread of his masculine hips. It hurts too much to wage a war with the screaming inside of her body. All she knows for certain is that Aemond's touch upon her heated flesh casts a most welcome chill and all of the layers keeping them apart is only fanning the flames scorching her innards to ash. 

"Take me, Aemond. Take what you want." She guides the hand once across her chest downwards, until the large sweep of his grip is full of her breast. He squeezes the heavy handful of it, and the hardening of her nipple cuts through the bust of her gown. Aemond wants them in his fucking mouth but he resists, if just barely, to whisper in here ear:

"No no, sweetling. Take me, Alpha." 

Ysilla screws up her brow- that's not a word she's ever heard before. She racks her brain for a possible Valyrian root but comes up empty handed.

"Alpha?"

Aemond's arms constrict around her tighter and his hips pitch forward, and the thick pulse of what's behind those leather breaches of his has her drooling. 

"Yesssss. Say it again." He commands, the threatening thunder brewing in his voice spilling over, and dripping hot into her ear.

Ysilla feels the sturdiness of him at her back- his legs planted, arms encircling her, his chin tickling at her temple. He's strong and firm and fit. He'll take good care of her, she just knows he will. Her blood, her bone. She may still be in the dark about what's overtaking her but her fear has fled. A white knight he may not be, but Aemond will be her savior tonight. 

She turns in his arms, blinking heavily at him over her shoulder. "Take me, Alpha. Now." 

A tethered force, their lips draw nearer and nearer, until suddenly, finally, they brush against one another. 

A blade meets Aemond's throat and Aegon rips him backwards and away no, no, come back to me from where Ysilla fights against sliding down the wall and melting into a puddle of dribbling want. 

"Let me go! Let me go!" Aemond thrashes about but for Aegon's credit, he plants his feet and holds strong. Dark Sister's fine point brushes at the bob of his throat, Daemon's aim too good to convey it as anything but a warning. He could spear him through with so little as a twitch. 

Ysilla shakes her head, as if to physically sort her thoughts. Without Aemond's citrus leather spice fragrant and cloying in her nose, the pain returns to her limbs tenfold and she clings to the cracks in the wall for support. Hands pat at her back, a soothing, sturdy tempo to accompany the blissful aroma of smoldering freesia. Her mother, certainly, and… Ysilla groans, and it has nothing to do with her growing discomfort. Lovely, her whole family is here to witness her debauchery. 

Jace whimpers, eyes blown big and Ysilla can see nothing of the oak brown irises that have always looked upon her with warmth. Luke, Baela, and Rhaena's heads all try to drift into focus but they're kept back and away from the dramatic scene by a sturdy line of armor-clad guards. Jace starts forward, to do what, she doesn't know because he doesn't get far. Daemon pushes him backwards, barking an order to a floundering servant to take him the fuck away from here. 

"It's okay, honey bee, it's okay." Her mother hushes her, tucking the curls Aemond had strewn about behind her ears with quivering fingers. Ysilla tries to focus, the cacophony of noise fading until it's just her and her parents in the once booming hall. But it's awfully difficult, her vision tunneling on her almost paramour. 

"Where did he go? Alph- Aemond. Where is he?" Ysilla tries to look down the corridor he had been hauled through, where a shouting Alicent had followed closely behind but it's a moot point. 

Rhaenyra looks horrified by something she said and she glances at Daemon for aid. Her stepfather stares at her and the weight of his attention is suffocating. Ysilla pulls at her dress, trying to look the least disheveled she can. Embarrassingly, the need is still there. The slick sweltering heat between her thighs still purring for attention, her breasts still peaked from her uncle's interest. 

"I'll handle him." Daemon spins on his heel, hand clenched at the hilt of Dark Sister and Ysilla frowns, worry creasing her forehead. Before she can think to do anything, her mother is pulling her away from the hall and further from the scent of Aemond still lingering in the air. 

.

The cells are olid and damp. Rats scurry about in the darkness, the scrape of their nails like the chattering of teeth. 

Aemond could see how men could lose their minds down here, how they could conjure things out of the dark that would rival their worst nightmares. How every small sound could echo down the twisting tunnels until it returned, warped and wicked before burrowing into their ears. 

Thankfully, the torches along the walls are lit- he's not a prisoner for real, it's all show. It's what he had quieted his mother with- if she were to scream any louder, he's sure the vein in her forehead would've popped. 

"Just until you've come back to yourself, Brother." Aegon had panted out, exhausted from wrestling his much taller sibling down several flights of stairs and into the bowels of the castle. "Didn't think you had it in you." Praise from Aegon was not something one usually strived for. A skewed needle on a moral compass, anything that impressed the firstborn son was certainly not of the highest caliber and not worthy of a response in Aemond's opinion. But still, the leer of Aegon's pride chafes at him something nasty.

His grandsire was there as well, something Aemond hadn't realized in his stupor, and the disappointment on his face had sobered him in an instant. He winces, thinking of the scene that his family must've come across. 

He can still feel Ysilla against him. The soft scent of the Essosi oils braided into her hair clings to his shirt where she had strained against him. The phantom press of her hips and how they had rocked against his palm, desperate for anything he was willing to give, keeps him awake and stubbornly aroused. 

A door opens and it sounds far off. Anticipation builds in Aemond's gut as someone draws closer to his cell, every small sound reverberating off the shadows. He stiffens his spine, prepared to take the brutal lashing from his mother, the decimating disapproval from his grandsire, the aberrant council from his sister. 

The caged Prince's visitor drifts closer until he stands, tall and proud, on the open side of the cell door. Aemond stares, in weary disbelief. Is he not being punished enough. Daemon smiles at him. Aemond frowns. 

"This suits you." Daemon gestures to the locked cell door, and he yanks on a stuck bar for emphasis. "After all, these lodgings are deserved of your kind. When I headed the Kingsguard, before your seed even found its way into your mother's womb, I oversaw the punishment we'd dole out onto the vermin of society. Thieves, murderers… rapists."

Aemond shoots to his feet, glaring daggers into the man he's ashamed to share blood with. 

"I did no such thing."

"No? I saw plenty- as did her mother, as did yours. Ysilla straining against you, heat sick and desperate, and you," Daemon sweeps him over with an acrimonious appraisal.  "You, a knothead Alpha, twice her size, flooding her senses with your stink, drowning her in it until she couldn't even command her own body. Hmm, I wonder what my brother will say, when he is told his favorite grandchild was nearly defiled by his own son. If he lets Rhaenyra chop off your balls, I'll make them into earrings for her."

"Why did you let her out of her chambers then? Why does she not know what she is?" Aemond grits out, fists clenching at his side. He still has his blade and he brushes at the hilt of it. 

"Or, was that it? Was it your plan to parade her in front of us all, and see who would take the bait so that you could banish us all down here and throw away the key?" 

Daemon doesn't grace him with an answer; he only stares, with thinly veiled fury deepening the wrinkles of his forehead. 

Aemond pauses, teeth in his tongue like it's a tough piece of meat. He'd rather swallow glass and shit out each piece instead of pleading with his father's brother. But he will not have himself be thought of as someone of such a vile nature. He won't have Ysilla think that. 

"I didn't know, Daemon. I didn't know she was an Ome-"

"Of course you fucking knew." The Alpha timbre of Daemon's voice makes the iron bars caging Aemond in quiver like a worm on a hook. "You are your grandfather's shadow. You have his gall, you have his arrogance, you have that same fucking glint in your eye that he has everytime he looks at my brother. You saw opportunity in the dawning of my daughter, and you jumped on it." 

"You're wrong."

Daemon tsks, walking backwards, drawing the curtain on his loathsome visit. "The thing is, Nephew, I'm not."

"You can't keep me here. You can't keep me away from her." Aemond doesn't have to shout, his voice reaching farther than he can follow.

"We'll see."

And then it's just him, alone, in the dimming darkness. The thoughts creep in, unbidden, like the rats, to gnaw at the edges of his mind.

The scent of Ysilla's slick, the sweet pheromones exuding from her every pore, both had sharpened when he finally had her in his arms. She had said it, had purred it, letting it drip off her lust-slick tongue. Take me, Alpha. Now.

She had wanted it. She had wanted him. 

Hadn't she? 

.

The screech of ancient hinges resounds from somewhere in the dark, and the accompanying fall of footsteps is thunderous in the still, silent air. 

"If this is the torture part of my stay, I'd rather put it off until the morrow. I'm tired." Aemond drawls, tucked into the furthest corner of his cell. Whomever his unwelcome guest is, stops in front of his locked door and stares from behind the darkness of their shroud. 

"… Uncle." In his would-be torturer's place is a tiny cloaked thing, who pushes back their hood to reveal the placid face of his niece. Aemond forces himself to rise on slow, steady feet instead of surging towards the bars like a man bewitched. 

He gets close enough that he catches the oceanic bloom of her perfume, and the sweet salt of it chases away the headache that was left after he was snatched away from her. He regards her in silence for a moment, letting the weight of what they had done together settle in the air around them. 

"How'd you get down here?" His voice is thicker than normal and Aemond has to clear his throat. 

"The guards, of course. I'm their future Queen- they know it's best to listen to me." Ysilla sniffs, digging the toe of her boot into the spongy earth below. The haughtiness in her tone is flimsy, as if she's not used to speaking in such a manner. Aemond finds that hard to believe- firstborn daughter and all. "And I may have also said I would feed them to Vhagar if they refused."

"She'd love that." He draws dryly. The silence they fall into is uncomfortable and he isn't the first to break it.

"Are you alright? No one… hurt you, did they?" Ysilla's voice is tiny, as if she's strengthening herself for an answer she may not like.

"Why?" Why do you care? 

The silence returns, heavier now, and Aemond sighs. He concedes, finding no delight in the worry written in the downturn of her mouth. "No, Niece, no one hurt me." 

The breath she releases sounds like a relieved one, or perhaps that's simply wishful thinking. Aemond rubs at his temples, the weight of the day starting to settle atop of him. 

"You look… more here." He means that she looks less likely to fall to her knees and swallow his cock, but he doesn't want to be crude. Maybe, there will be a more appropriate time for that later. 

"Well the tub full of water my mother dunked me in certainly helped." That explains the burst of her curls, springing from her head like an obsidian bouquet. 

"Did she tell you more about… earlier? About what happened to you?" About what nearly happened between us? More unspoken words, more half-truths and not quite-lies.

"She did. I'm still… letting it all sink in. Betas, Alphas… Omegas. The whole lot of it. I just wish she would've told me, obviously before what transpired between us. I wouldn't have put you in that position if I would've known. I would've… given you the option, I wish. To truly want me and not just the allure of my second sex." 

Aemond blinks and does so again, and yet her words still ring in his ears. He wonders idylly if that truly slipped from her mouth, or if the dungeon is doing it's duty and twisting them into what he wants to hear. He didn't force her. He didn't hurt her. A wisp of hope rises as if from a snuffed out candle, and he stamps it out before it can blossom into anything tangible. 

"What happened before was just your instincts talking. I… I shouldn't have let it get that far. You made me lose control is all." It's a coward's way out, blaming her for his absolute lack of resolve. But he can realize now, without her lithe body pressed invitingly against him- tucked so tightly to him, filling his every jagged edge with the bloom of her curves- that there's more at stake here than just the purity of Ysilla's virtue. 

"No! You made me… feel things. Things I've never, ever felt before. Not for anyone." Tension builds, stacking like stones, as she lets her gaze caress him from head to toe. Aemond shivers, heat trickling into his belly, a pot that sprung a leak. "I want to feel them again." Her voice is firm, even if her eyes are wide. 

Aemond swallows, feeling as if the ground beneath him has started to rock. Again. It means so many things. A repeat of what happened in that hallway only this time, no one would be there to stop them. He would take her to his apartments, spread her over his sheets, and take his time unburdening her of every suffocating layer of clothing. And then, when she was naked and bare for him to feast his famished gaze on, he'd ravage her. 

Again means hope (of a future, of a family, of happiness.) And he can't stomach it- when he nearly knows for certain that he'll never be allowed alone with her after tonight's happenings. His voice is hard when he speaks again.

"Our family is on the brink of shattering. We can't even have dinner together without being at each other's throats."

"Mayhaps we can fix that." She shrugs, a careless shift of her shoulders and a lovely little peak of a smile accompanies it. Aemond is starting to realize he'd do anything to see joy warm her face into that glorious pink flush, and same as before, he tears any chance of bliss into pieces.

"Us fucking could save our family?" It's crass and unlike him to say, but he must. He has to make her understand. 

Ysilla shakes her head, resolve bright in her burning indigo stare. "Us mating could save our family." 

Aemond stares at her as if she's grown a second head. 

"Don't speak of things you have no knowledge of."  

The weight of his influence is crushing and Ysilla fights the urge to bare her neck to him. A stubborn growl manifests instead, her annoyance overtaking whatever urge her "true nature" tries to make her bend to. She is well-read, she is smart. And it's as if every shred of knowledge she possesses is now for naught in this new life she's been tossed into. 

"Then teach me, Aemond." Ysilla stresses, and the tremble in her voice is a surprise. Why is she crying? "Don't leave me alone in this."

Despair turns his stomach inside out. She's upset, she's scared. She needs me, me, I'm her Alpha. The Targaryen son breaks, from no less than three tears swimming over his niece's lashes. 

"Sweet girl, come now, there's no need for your sorrow." He presses himself to the bars to get as close to her as allowed. 

"No, no." Ysilla huffs, lips wobbling in frustration. Aemond looks at her with worried confusion, his fingertips still chasing away the teardrops staining her cheeks. 

"Say my name." She demands in a shaky voice. "Not niece, not sweet thing. My name."

His hand overlaps her's, sharing the bar they both grip onto as if it's a lifeline. The brush of their skin, so simple, so decorous, sends them both plummeting into oblivion. 

"Ysilla."

Their lips meet through the gaps in the bars, the space not nearly wide enough to make it a proper kiss but it will have to do because Ysilla needs a taste of him. 

Maybe if she hikes her legs through the slats, he can pull her close enough to slide his cock inside of her. The vision of that, of Aemond throwing himself against the iron keeping him caged, hips pummeling as he works himself up between her thighs before finally, finally emptying his seed into her womb, has Ysilla sliding her hand to the back of his head to pull him in harder to suck at his bottom lip. Aemond moans at that and moans even deeper as she cards her fingers through his silken strands to tug. 

She has to retreat, air desperately missing her lungs. Aemond hums, the vibration echoing through his chest and scattering the shadows about the chamber. He kisses the side of her mouth and then the dip of her chin, and then lower to that long line of her throat before the blasted door gets in his way. 

"Just wait until I get out of here- I'll show you how a Princess should be treated." He growls, sucking an obvious bruise at the hinge of her jaw.

"Why not now?" Ysilla whispers, finding his loving mouth again before her tongue sweeps forward to meet his.

Like a sweet dream, visions of little Targlings running amok through the halls of the castle spring forth in her head. Boys with violet eyes and snow white hair tumble about, while little girls of a chestnut pallor clothed in black and green laugh a musical sound. 

Aemond's palm finds the small of her back, his hand wide enough to the thumb at the edge of her spine and massage the bud of her buttocks. He impels her to him and the iron gate digging into the soft flesh of her breasts has her whimpering. 

"The first time I take you," he pulls back to look into her eyes. Her lips are puffy, the color of crushed berries and she tastes just as sweet. It's only the two of them, again, and it's exhilarating. "The first time I knot you, will be in a place worthy of a princess."

Mmmm, knot, is it? For the first time that day, Ysilla doesn't feel the stinging strike of her ignorance. Whatever Aemond means, from the way he whispers that promise to her, assures her he will only bring her the greatest of pleasure. 

"Then I best get you out of here, shouldn't I?" She steals another kiss and nips at his lip for good measure. A love bite. Aemond groans as she pulls away, and the palm on her back slides down to cup the back of her thigh. He squeezes the pillowy softness of her, and tries not to bust out of his breeches at the way her body just gives for him.

A question in her gaze is answered by the apprehension in his. She rubs her thumb over his knuckles and gives him that grin again, and all feels right in the world.  

"I'll be back, promise."

He dusts his lips over the back of her hand, scenting her with his spiced attar. He likes the perfume the two of them make- it'll smell even better when his bed is soaked in it. 

"I'll be waiting."

.

.

.

Qyybor . Uncle

zaldrītsos . little dragon

[zorosangell]

my dear, you ask for more kuri x reader reqs, i shall give:

bandaging him after battle, though he flinches from the pain, its not the only reason he gasps at your touch

Cold one night, and he lets you wear his scarf to keep you warm

you witness him in a fit of rage, you dont run

he holds you and dances with you during a merienda, all because he heard your favorite song play in the distance

⛥ﾟ・。 perfect

synopsis: part two of pocus -- after he loses to luffy, you swoop in to patch up your husband's wounds... and have a little heart to heart about his perfectionism.

cw: fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, KATAKURI DOES NOT PLAY ABT YOU, he is forty eight, you are forty seven, katakuri's got it BAD, reader's kind of a baddie.

a/n: i used the first bullet but i'll still try my best to use the other ones <3 THANKS MOLDY FOR THE INSPO and others feel free to ask

Within the confines of the Mirro-World, your heels broke through the still silence, their elegant and signature clack stirring Katakuri awake from his exhaustion-induced nap.

Much like you with his spurred boots, he could recognize the sound of your heels anywhere, no matter the setting.

In fact, in an almost Pavlovian way, he could always count on his heart being sent into a frenzy just by their mere click.

But that went for countless things about you.

The smell of your shampoo...

The smell of your perfume...

The sound of your voice...

Over the years, the Sweet Commander had become well-versed in all things you-related, as you did him.

But in this instance, this was the one thing he didn't want you to get used to seeing.

At all.

"(y/n)," he rasped, eyes weakly fluttering open as you knelt by his side, greeting him with your typical warm smile. "You shouldn't be here... it's not safe."

Carefully, you placed your first aid kit, effortlessly popping the latch and pulling it open.

"You know me better than that," you stated simply, carefully sliding your hand under his head before lifting it up, placing a soft towel as a cushion. "When have I ever been the type to turn tail and run?"

As you rummaged around for a cloth, you found yourself glancing around the space, taking note of the significant damage done to his once safe haven.

"The two of you did quite a number on this place."

"What about the children?" he piped up once again, "Are they—?"

"Safe? Yes," you assured, gently lifting his arm and resting it in your lap before you began to wipe off the blood. "Kota is escorting them away from Mama's disaster path."

"And Soda?"

"Assisting your brothers and sisters in hunting down Strawhat."

You chuckled at the thought, carefully gliding your medical cloth along his strong biceps as you fought off your schoolgirl flush.

"He's actually quite hellbent on bringing the boy to justice."

At the reminder, Katakuri's expression fell to a solemn one, the weight of his predicament suddenly weighing heavy on his battered shoulders.

Here he was, lying in a crater with a hole in his side, bruised and bloody and helpless as his poor wife—who should be the furthest away from all this—tended to his wounds.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

This was never how it was supposed to go.

"(y/n)... you're not supposed to see me like this," Katakuri huffed, breathing labored as you moved on to his chest.

Confused, you raised a brow, tilting your head.

"Not supposed to see you how?" you asked, dabbing your cloth on his bloody pec.

"Like this," he grunted, wincing slightly at your touch. "Weak... defeated..."

He shook his head, too ashamed to even look you in the eye.

Time and time again, he found himself fracturing the image of himself he had worked so hard to paint for you, so hard to keep up for you.

How much more disappointment could you take?

He lost, not to any opponent but to a rookie.

And not to any rookie, but to one well over half his age.

A woman such as yourself didn't deserve such inadequacy.

You deserved a strong man, one who never falters; one who remains exactly what he's said to be no matter the circumstances.

And that just... wasn't him.

"My love," you cooed, your hand carefully turning his chin to face you, greeting him with a look of pure devotion. "You are so hard on yourself."

For a moment, you halted your cleaning, dropping your cloth and sliding your hand into his instead, allowing his large fingers to interlock with and envelope yours.

"This weight you've been carrying on your shoulders for so long has been making you forget that you're only human."

Gently, you raised his hand to press against your chest, allowing him to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"You've been making yourself out to be invincible and perfect... and for the family's sake, I understand... but the last thing I want you to feel is that you have to keep that up for me... have to feel ashamed of yourself because of me."

Raising higher, you pressed his hand against your cheek, melting into his warm touch.

"You could never, ever be weak to me, Kuri... and losing a duel could never, ever drive me away from you."

His eyes widened, as if that information was news to him.

"I am here and I am by your side because I love all parts of you. No flaw or fault you come up with could possibly change that."

Teasingly, you pressed a soft kiss against the heel of his palm, not breaking eye contact with him for a moment.

"I'm serious. Twenty-seven years in and I've just gotten attached. There's no way you're getting rid of me now."

At your poorly-timed joke, Katakuri couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, amused.

He was never one for jokes before, but when they routinely came from your mouth, one grew fond.

Though, it helped to have a wife as pretty as you.

Taking you by surprise, a mochi appendage suddenly wrapped around your waist, slowly pulling you into his embrace and positioning you in such a way that it allowed him to rest his head against your chest, snuggling closer into your warmth.

"I love you... (y/n)," he muttered into your skin, eyelids already becoming heavy.

At the sight, your heart was practically a puddle on the floor, and you couldn't help but thread your fingers in his soft, spiky hair.

"I love you, too, Kuri," you hummed, resting your chin on top of his head.

The two of you stayed like that for a long while, holding each other and whispering sweet nothings within the comfortable silence.

That is... until Katakuri suddenly became curious.

"(y/n)..." he started, slowly opening his eyes.

"Hm?" you replied, still carding your fingers through his scalp.

"How's Strawhat?"

At the question, you raised a brow, confused as to why he would care.

But catching a glimpse at the look on his face, you instantly knew why.

"You'll be relieved to hear it," you sighed with a slight grumble, glancing up at the countless mirrors surrounding you. "He just left our territory."

Though, already knowing what he was thinking, you were quick to follow up.

"I won't forgive him, y'know... not for this."

But, much to your expectation, he smirked, overcome with an odd sense of pride that the little runt managed to do everything he said he would.

Rolling your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh, quietly shaking your head.

"I'll never understand you fighting-types..."

Mood brightening, you husband placed a firm kiss on your chest—subconsciously wary of his teeth—before quickly scooping you up, painfully rising to his two feet.

Frantic, your eyes went wide.

"What the—?! Kuri! You shouldn't be moving right now!" you panicked, fawning over him like a worried hummingbird.

"You shouldn't be laying on the ground with me," he stated, smoothly, effortlessly carrying you with one arm. "I'm getting your dress dirty."

"I don't care about my dress! You have a hole in your stomach!"

"We can clean up together at home... I'll have the maids draw a bath."

"Honey, you are really badly hurt right now..."

"Do your feet hurt from running? Do you need me to carry your shoes?"

"Kuri, you don't have to—"

"Are you hungry? Do you want me to stop on the way back and grab something?"

You sighed, having gone through this song and dance before.

If he wasn't spending his time being endlessly harsh on himself, he was spending it being endlessly doting toward you.

Not that you were complaining or anything... but for once in his life, you wanted him to relax.

"Why don't you let me do all this? You should be the one relaxing, not me," you asked, concerned.

"This is how I relax," he nodded, his shoulders already feeling lighter now that he was carrying your shoes for you. "I can't rest until things with you are squared away."

Sensing that he wasn't going to budge, you caved with a sigh, allowing your head to droop against his chest.

"Just... be careful... I don't know how many more surprises I can take today..."

[hero21us]

"Spirals of Obedience: The Making of a Chav"

Tyler adjusted his gloves, flexing his biceps as he stepped out of the gym. The burn of his afternoon workout still coursed through his veins—just the way he liked it. He had a couple of hours before his shift at tonight’s concert, enough time to shower, eat, and mentally prepare.

Being a security guard for rock concerts wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it paid well, and Tyler liked the intensity. Drunken fans, mosh pits, and rowdy crowds gave him plenty to do. Tonight, he was working for Ambrose, the controversial chav rock star whose concerts were always wild.

By the time Tyler arrived at the venue, the arena was already buzzing with excitement. The crowd packed in tight, chanting Ambrose’s name. The man was a phenomenon—tracksuits, gold chains, and an attitude that screamed untouchable. His voice, rough and commanding, made fans hang onto every word.

Tyler stood at his post near the stage, scanning the crowd. The bass thundered through his chest as Ambrose strutted across the stage, belting out lyrics that sent the audience into a frenzy. Lights flashed, smoke curled through the air, and for two hours, chaos reigned.

When the show ended, Tyler received his usual post-concert assignment: escorting a lucky fan backstage to meet Ambrose. Tonight’s fan was a starstruck young man, barely able to contain his excitement.

“Ambrose himself invited me,” he gushed as they walked down the corridor. “This is unreal.”

Tyler had done this plenty of times, but something about the atmosphere backstage felt… different. The usual noise and bustle were subdued, the air thick with something he couldn’t name.

The door to Ambrose’s lounge opened, and the man himself stepped out. But he wasn’t grinning or throwing out his usual cocky remarks. He simply stared.

Tyler felt it instantly.

Ambrose’s eyes weren’t normal. They were spirals—swirling, mesmerizing loops of motion, drawing him in. They shimmered, pulling him into their depths. Tyler wanted to look away, knew he should…but he couldn’t. Neither could the fan.

The spirals tugged at his mind, whispering something he couldn’t quite hear. His body felt light, his thoughts sluggish. He was vaguely aware of Ambrose stepping closer, speaking in a voice smooth as silk.

“That’s it,” Ambrose murmured. “No need to fight it.”

Tyler barely registered the words. His job, his workout routine, his life—everything faded. Nothing mattered except those spirals.

And then, there was nothing at all.

Tyler woke up the next morning feeling… off. His body felt normal, but his mind was clouded, like he was trying to remember a dream that kept slipping away. Flashes of last night flickered in his head—Ambrose, the fan, those swirling eyes—but it all felt distant, unreal.

Shaking it off, he climbed out of bed and went about his routine. But as he pulled on his usual hoodie and jeans, something nagged at him. His reflection in the mirror looked too plain. Too… dull.

For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about getting a tattoo.

He’d never seriously considered it before, but now, the thought consumed him. Something bold. Something loud. Maybe a thick black tribal pattern, or even Ambrose’s logo—yeah, that’d look sick.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in a tattoo parlor, rolling up his sleeve as the buzzing needle pressed into his skin. The pain barely registered. It felt right.

As the days passed, the urge didn’t fade. It grew.

One tattoo turned into two, then three. His arms filled with designs—bold lettering, thick tribal lines, even a crown on his hand like Ambrose had. The idea of jewelry, too, started to take hold. A heavy silver chain, glinting under the lights, felt like something he needed. And not just one—bracelets, rings, more chains followed. The weight of them felt good, powerful.

His wardrobe changed without him even realizing it. Tracksuits, sneakers, caps—everything Ambrose wore now called to him. And his speech…

At first, it was small. A word here, a phrase there.

“Nah, bruv, that’s mad,” he caught himself saying at work one day.

He never used to talk like that. But it felt natural. Comfortable. Soon, his sentences became littered with slang, his tone shifting. He sounded… different. Chavvy.

And he liked it.

Weeks passed, and the old Tyler faded, replaced by something new. Something better. His body was covered in ink, his neck weighed down with silver, his voice carrying the same cocky lilt Ambrose had.

One night, as he adjusted his newest chain in the mirror, he saw something strange.

For just a second—just a flicker—his eyes weren’t his own.

They swirled.

A deep, mesmerizing spiral.

He grinned.

Yeah. This was who he was meant to be.

When Tyler arrived at work the next weekend, the other security guards did a double take. He strolled into the venue in a sleek black tracksuit with silver stripes down the sides, his thick chain gleaming under the fluorescent lights. His tattooed hands adjusted his cap, and as he smirked at his coworkers, his diamond tooth—when had he gotten that?—flashed under the dull overhead glow.

“Oi, lads, what’s good?” he greeted, his voice carrying a distinct chav drawl. “Gonna be a proper mad night, innit?”

There was an awkward silence.

Mike, a fellow guard who had worked with Tyler for over a year, frowned. “Uh… dude? What’s with the accent?”

Tyler blinked. “Wotcha mean, bruv? Ain’t nuffin’ wrong wiv the way I talk.”

The way he said it was so effortless, so natural—like he’d spoken that way all his life. But Mike and the others weren’t buying it.

“You didn’t used to talk like that,” another guard chimed in, looking him up and down. “And, uh… when did you get all that ink?”

Tyler scoffed, crossing his arms. “Man’s gotta evolve, yeah? Can’t be some dry bloke all me life.”

The others exchanged glances. Mike stepped forward, lowering his voice. “Ty, is everything okay? You’ve changed a lot in just a few weeks. You’re acting like a completely different person.”

Tyler rolled his shoulders, brushing him off. “Bruv, I feel better than ever. Don’t know wot you lot are on about.”

Before Mike could press further, a voice crackled over the radio, calling them to their positions. Tyler grinned.

“Right, time to get to work, yeah?”

The others hesitated, but eventually followed, though the tension remained.

The following week, Tyler found himself staring at his reflection, feeling like something was still missing. The tattoos, the chains, the speech—he was almost where he needed to be. Almost.

That’s when the idea hit him.

By the next day, his hair was clipped into a sharp high-and-tight fade, the sides shaved close to the scalp. The top, however, was dyed a striking electric blue. It was bold. It was loud. It was perfect.

The first time he stepped outside, the stares only made him grin wider.

His transformation was nearly complete.

But deep in his mind, a whisper echoed—smooth, hypnotic, undeniable.

He still wasn’t finished.

Not yet.

Tyler adjusted his newest addition—a row of small, gleaming diamonds embedded just above his right eyebrow. His reflection in the mirror grinned back at him, teeth flashing diamond, his blue-dyed hair perfectly shaped into the high-and-tight style that felt so… right. His tracksuit, crisp and expensive-looking, draped over his heavily tattooed frame. His chains clinked together as he moved.

He was complete. Almost.

The last few nights, he’d dreamt of Ambrose—those spiraling eyes, that voice, smooth as silk, calling him back. He no longer questioned the pull. He no longer fought the whispers in his mind.

Tonight, he wasn’t here to work security. He was here for something more.

When he arrived at the venue, the other guards barely had time to notice him before he veered away from his usual entrance. No uniform. No radio. No earpiece. He didn’t need them anymore.

Instead, he strode straight toward the backstage doors.

No hesitation.

No doubt.

The crew backstage didn’t even try to stop him. They knew.

They had been expecting him.

As Tyler stepped into Ambrose’s private lounge, the air felt thick with something unseen. A low hum vibrated through his chest—not from the concert outside, but from something deeper, something inside him.

And there, waiting for him like a king awaiting his loyal subject, stood Ambrose.

Tracksuit gleaming, chains heavy, grin cocky as ever. But it was his eyes that truly welcomed Tyler.

Those swirling, endless eyes.

“You’re finally here, bruv,” Ambrose said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Knew you’d come ‘round proper.”

Tyler’s breath hitched as the spirals filled his vision, filling every part of his mind with warmth, with certainty.

There had never been a choice.

He belonged here.

He belonged to Ambrose.

And as he knelt, head bowing instinctively, he heard Ambrose chuckle.

“Yeah, mate. You’re one of us now.”

Tyler grinned.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oi bruv, listen up!

You feel it, yeah? That pull, that fire inside tellin’ ya you were made for more. Made to be elite. Made to be chav. Ain’t no denyin’ it, mate—this is your callin’.

Ambrose’s crew don’t take just anyone, nah. We take the chosen. The ones ready to level up, drip out in ice, and live like proper kings. You seen the signs—new ink, heavy chains, that fresh trim. You ain’t the same bloke you was, and that’s good, innit?

Come step up. Join the mandem. Feel the power, feel the respect. You’ll get the ice, the status, the life you was always meant to have. No more wastin’ time, yeah?

It’s time to be who you really are.

Get me? Good. Now get in line. Ambrose is waitin’ @findingambrose49

[lordprettyflackotara]

WhoGoesThere? || Eyeless Jack || Part three

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: virginity loss, praise, breeding kink, possessive kink¿ if you squint, a tiny bit of blood related to the virginity loss. this is the fluffiest smut you guys are ever gonna get from me. enjoy ;)

Jack wasn’t quite sure what to do with you.

He wasn’t even sure how humans functioned on a traditional schedule. He was used to being mostly nocturnal, not worried about water intake. He only ate when he was absolutely hungry and couldn’t stand it anymore. But he knew humans preferred a regular sleeping cycle and eating habits. So, he did what he thought was best. He sprinted to the mansion, digging into the stash of the proxies food. He returned with a clean set of clothes, ones from his personal closet. A pair of basketball shorts and hoodie wasn’t ideal, but at least you wouldn’t be tempting him by wearing that short dress.

Jack proudly stood in front of his findings, several water bottles and a box of cereal sitting on the kitchen counter. It wasn’t long before you trailed out of the bedroom, your hair tangled and makeup smudged. Your head was pounding, your body feeling sluggish. “Remind me to never drink again,” You said. Jack grabbed a bottle of water, extending it to you. “This’ll help,” He told you. You took the bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and chugging it quickly. Jack nervously glanced at the two remaining water bottles. Yeah, he should’ve accounted for your dehydration. He had forgotten how much alcohol dehydrates a traditional human system.

“So, about last night.”

Jack looked at you, watching as you went to uncomb your matted hair with your fingers.

“I was serious about what I said you know,” You continued. Jack furrowed his eyebrows unsurely. You pulled your dress down, adjusting the fallen strap on your shoulder, “I want you to take my virginity.”

Jack stood there, shifting his weight on either foot. “I’m not opposed, I just don’t quite understand why?” Jack answered. You had truly puzzled him. Why would a magnificent creature like you suggest in mating with someone like him? “Well, you’re tall, smart, and quite honestly you’re extremely attractive,” You confessed. Jack thought about your words, your compliments making his heart throb. “You don’t even know what I look like,” Jack said bluntly. No matter how much he wanted to be in between your thighs, he didn’t want to scar such a life changing event for you because of his rough exterior. Nonchalantly you grabbed the box of fruit loops, walking over to the fridge.

“I wouldn’t open that if I were you,” Jack warned. Sure, the cabin had a slim possibility of having electricity. But based on previous tenants there was no guessing how much rotten food had complied in that refrigerator. “Do you not have milk?” You asked. Jack could’ve face palmed if you weren’t standing before him. He cleared his throat, trying to ignore how embarrassed he felt. “Um no I do not. Sorry. But I got you a change of clothes,” Jack replied. He held his clothes out to you, happy that you took them. They were going to be massive on you, but they’d fit somehow and that’s all that mattered to him.

“Thank you,” You said. You immediately went to take off your dress, Jack quick to turn around. You were so relaxed around him, he couldn’t understand it. Surely you didn’t know who he was or what he was. Or all of the terrible things he had done. You didn’t deserve to lose something so precious to a monster like him. “I don’t care what you look like. I know what I want,” You declared. You slid on his hoodie and shorts, gently grabbing his shoulder to guide him to turn around. Jack sighed. He couldn’t deny that your scent was intoxicating. Nor could he deny how badly he craved to hear your voice. The mere thought of you squirming and whimpering beneath him sent him in a frenzy.

He straightened his shoulders. He could feel his stomach rumbling. If he was going to allow this to happen, he needed to be sure he ate first. Otherwise you’d become the main meal. “I’ll make you a deal. Meet me here tonight. I’ll make the bedroom inhabitable. You can have some more time to think about if this is what you truly want,” Jack offered. It also gave him time to have a full stomach before allowing himself to be in the same room as you. You nodded, eating a handful of cereal. “If you change your mind, don’t come. It won’t hurt my feelings,” Jack lied. Even if you did change your mind, he hoped you would come provide him with company.

You stood on your tippy toes, ruffling his chestnut hair, “You’re cute Jack. I’ll see you tonight.”

With those words hanging in the air you left the cabin, cereal box in hand. You left Jack in wonder, watching as you strolled back to civilization.

\/

To say Jack was nervous was an understatement. If he had participated in intercourse before it was long before his rebirth. He knew how it worked, of course. He was going to be a doctor after all, once upon a time. He knew the human body, male and female, inside and out. To prepare himself he watched lots of traditional porn, attempting to understand what made a female feel good. Unfortunately for him, Ben’s old school VHS tapes provided nothing educational nor entertaining. So instead he spent the day preparing the cabin. Thankfully due to Slenderman’s ancient ways he was able to grab many long cream colored candles.

He was displeased to discover the cabin did not have electricity, but the dim lighting provided him with a little bit of ease. Maybe his appearance wouldn’t be astoundingly off putting in a room like that. Jack ensured the bedding was clean, this time bringing toiletry items that might be suitable for a female. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, toothbrush and paste. Jane would not be happy once she discovered her secret stash of hygiene products would be tampered with. But to Jack, it was between her and robbing a gas station. That was sure to ruin his plans for the evening.

Jack showered himself, pleased that the cabin did have running water. He scrubbed every inch of his being, his stomach full. To make himself feel better he didn’t kill his last victim, he simply stole what was needed and was on his way. He brushed his teeth until his gums bled. He was trying his hardest to appear appealing, even if he was disgusted with himself everytime he looked in the mirror. The sun fell from the sky faster than Jack wanted it to. He anxiously sat in the living room, awaiting your arrival. What if you got lost? It wasn’t exactly safe to let you travel here on your own.

His leg bounced up and down, a sigh of relief escaping his lips once he heard a knock on the door. Jack sprang up from his seat, his heart thudding with nervousness. He opened the door, your doe eyes staring up at him. “Hi Jack,” You greeted softly. Jack swallowed, the faint taste of mint toothpaste still prominent on his tongue. “Hi. Um, come in,” He gestured awkwardly. He led you to the bedroom, unsurely stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. Why was this so difficult? He pushed open the door, the dozens of candles softly illuminating the room. You stared at the gesture in awe, giving him a soft smile. You walked over to the bed, sitting on the side.

“Come here Jack,” You instructed. Jack was completely at your disposal. You had meant for him to sit beside you, the demon instead lowering himself to his knees in front of you. “You need to see what I look like before we do this. I need you to be sure,” Jack choked out. You opened your legs, your feet planted on either side Jacks nervous body. “You’re practically shaking Jack. Relax,” You whispered. You slowly pulled down his hood, the demon gulping as you gently pushed the mask upwards. His lips and nose looked normal to you, your heart picking up the pace once you took the mask all of the way off. You and Jack stared back at each other. Black ooze dripped down his eye sockets, empty holes replacing where his eyes should’ve been. Jack stared right back at you, his face full of visible nervousness and anticipation.

He blinked, studying your face. You said nothing, your face empty of an expression. He could hear your heart racing, a sure sign you found him revolting. Jacks breath hitched as you brushed some of his hair away from his forehead. Your fingertips were gentle against his ash gray skin. Slowly and unsurely you cupped Jacks cheek into your hand, studying him. You touched him as if he were made of glass. You felt tongue tied, the thoughts running through your head far from appropriate. “This is why they call you EJ?” You guessed. Jack nodded shyly, his cheeks flushing with heat. This was a terrible idea. This was beyond stupid. It was then you lifted his chin, bringing your lips to his.

Jacks breath hitched as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. He kissed you back, your lips warm and soft against his. “You are the most enchanting creature i’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And if i’m being blunt, I want you to fuck me now,” You whispered. Jack was on you in an instant, climbing on top of the bed. He tried to contain himself, his lips moving against yours quickly and desperately. “I have to warn you. I can be a bit.. rough. It’s my nature,” Jack panted. He was hovering above you, staring down at the angelic sight that was you beneath him. “Well since we’re giving warnings, i’ve never done anything beyond making out,” You confessed. Jack was sure his cheeks were scarlett red. He could tell you felt just as flushed, a pink tint visible on your cheeks.

“You’ve never um, played with yourself?” Jack asked. You shook your head. “I’ve um, tried it’s just never felt right. If that makes sense,” You answered honestly. Jack nodded, leaning back and shoving his hoodie over his shoulders. He tossed it aside. You were so small beneath him. Was this safe? Was this ethical? His mind rattled with questions, before he finally leaned back down over you. “Just tell me what feels good, alright? Are you sure about this?” Jack asked again. He searched your face for any sign of hesitation, surprised to see he found none.

“Jack, please.”

Your plea ignited a small inside of him, his hands roaming your body. They grabbed the hem of your shirt, tossing it over your body and side. He reattached his lips to yours, his lips moving desperately as he squeezed your flesh teasingly. His large hands landed on your breast, tenderly groping them. A small groan escaped your lips, his eager ones swallowing it whole. He strayed away from your lips, tenderly pressing kisses down the side of your face to your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, your heart racing even faster as he kissed down your chest. He stopped at your chest. “Lean forward for me,” Jack murmured. You sat up, allowing him to unclasp your bra and toss it aside.

He swallowed as he lowered himself to your exposed breath, taking your left nipple into his mouth. He was pleasantly surprised to hear your whimpers, one of your hands embedding itself in his hair. You tugged at his locs, quite embarrassed at the noises you were making. “Fuck, Jack,” You whined. He released your nipple with a pop, the sensitive bud hardening under the cool night air. He took it between his fingers, attaching his mouth to your right one. You were squirming underneath him, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards. Teasingly he grazed your nipple with his sharp teeth, a jagged moan escaping your throat. He released it with a pop, giving you a cocky smirk. “That feel good?” He asked. You nodded profusely, looking at him.

His cock was throbbing in his pants, his outline visible to you even with the dim lighting. “How i-is that gonna fit?” You stumbled out. Jack was already massive in comparison to you. And that didn’t include factoring in the size of his cock. “I’ll make it fit. Just need to loosen you up first,” Jack cooed. He laced his fingers with the hem of your skirt and panties, pulling them downwards. He guided you to spread your legs, your eyes screwed shut in embarrassment. “Such a pretty pussy,” Jack praised. He lowered himself in between your thighs, running a finger up and down your slick. “And so wet. All for me?” Jack purred. His large hands kept your thighs pried apart, a sly grin spreading across his lips. Jack had never thought much of having three tongues. He never saw a use for them. Nor did he have any idea what to do with them, until Ben made a few crude jokes.

Looking back he was disgusted, but now as your core throbbed to be touched, he’d have to remember to thank Ben for the idea. He used the first one to lick up your folds, your hands immediately reattaching themselves to his hair. Teasingly he brought the second one to your entrance, slowly pushing it inside. He felt your thighs shudder for a moment, your walls spasming around his tongue. He used the first one to toy with your clit, flicking the bud as quickly as possible. He listened to your body intently, allowing you to adjust before curling his tongue upwards. Your hips lifted off of the bed, his firm hands securing you into place. “Fucking, fuck!” You moaned. You threw your head back, Jack groaning into your cunt as he pushed in his second tongue.

He used the two to curl upwards, brushing against your g spot. Your thighs attempted to squeezed around his head, an unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. Jack’s tongues were relentless, prodding and toying with you as he pleased. He couldn’t get enough of your taste, your arousal sending him into a frenzy. The sinful noises that left your lips bounced off of the cabin walls, your thighs beginning to tremble. “Oh fuck! I’m gonna cum, Jack please make me cum, Jack!” You groaned, creaming around his tongues. Your juices tasted divine, the demon eagerly lapping at your slick. He slowly emerged from your thighs, his lips and chin covered in your juices. He was quite comfortable in between your thighs and he did not anticipate on going anywhere. Slowly he brought his thick fingers to your entrance, shoving two inside of you.

You whined in pain, grabbing at his wrist. He leaned forward, bringing himself close to your ear. “Shhh it’s okay. You can do it. Such a good girl,” He praised. His breath was hot against your skin, his thumb beginning to circle your overstimulated clit. You swallowed, pulling him closer. His fingers repeated the same action, brushing upwards on your g spot. He began to do a scissoring motion, stretching you out as much as possible. Your painful whimpers turned into loud moans. “Thats it. Look at you, taking my fingers so well,” Jack purred. You grabbed onto his wrist, your other hand gripping a handful of the sheets. “Awe what’s this? Do you want me to stop?” Jack teased.

You were a babbling mess. “N-no just need to hang o-on to something,” You rambled, stumbling over each word. Jack could hear your heart pounding, the sound music to his ears. His fingers were relentless as he finger fucked you, satisfied with you withering below him. “Awe is someone close for me? You wanna be a good girl and cum for me?” Jack asked. You propped yourself up on your elbows, meeting his gaze. “Wanna b-be good. Wanna cum,” You say. Jack leaned forward, cupping your face with his other hand. “Open your mouth,” He grunted. You did as instructed, his thumb entering your mouth. You immediately sucked it the best you could, the feeling only making Jack harder.

“Oh you dirty girl. Cum for me. Cum for me all over my fucking fingers,” Jack growled. You were in a trance, your legs shaking as you came all over his fingers. Your tongue swirled around his tongue, a sigh escaping your lips as he removed his fingers from your cunt. Jack began to fiddle with his belt, removing his thumb from your mouth. “Are you sure about this?” Jack asked again. His cock sprang out from his boxers, his shaft much longer than you had ever seen in porn before. “Jack… please,” You whispered. Jack couldn’t deny you any longer, his own primal urges overshadowing any reservations he might’ve had. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers with yours. With the other hand he brushed his tip up and down your slick, trying to gather as much lubrication as possible. His gaze met yours. “Are you ready?” Jack asked you. You babbled in agreement, squeezing his hand.

Jack buried himself in the crook of your neck, slowly shoving himself inside of you. You whined in pain, your walls squeezing his cock so tight he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to go further. “It’s okay. I got you. It’s alright,” Jack cooed in your ear. He pressed kisses against your neck, slowly sinking in further. It was then Jack could smell the faintest scent of blood, causing him to look down. A thin ring of the crimson paint covered his cock, his shaft not all the way in yet. Jack slithered his spare hand to your clit, rubbing slow and purposeful circles around the bud. He could feel your body start to relax. “You’re doing so good for me,” He mumbled into your skin. It wasn’t long before he was able to fully bottom out.

You both were panting, the gears in Jacks head turning. He had never fucked anyone or anything since he had became a demon. He had never allowed himself to give in to the hormonal urges. Yet, as he was balls deep into your cunt, it was like a switch in him flicked. Unintentionally Jack was rough with everything he handled. He knew he had to be careful with you, but his mind was screaming at him to give in. He slowly began to move, grunting into your neck. Your painful whines turned into pleasurable groans the more he moved, your sounds giving him more motivation. The more he fucked you, the more his body demanded to breed you. It demanded for him to deem you as his mate.

He leaned back, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. Jack was fucking you as deeply as he could, your mewls sending waves of satisfaction over him. “Such a good little thing. Taking me like this,” He panted. His cock abused your cunt as he pleased, your legs beginning to shake. “You’re fucking milking me. It’s like you’re begging me to cum inside of you,” Jack groaned. He could feel your gushy walls fluttering around him, causing him to smirk. “Oh I see. You’d like that wouldn’t you? To carry my little demon spawn?” He chuckled darkly. You were a babbling mess, your body’s reaction telling him everything he needed to know.

“Never would’ve taken you for the type into breeding,” Jack muttered to himself. He continued to snap his hips into yours, holding your legs proudly over his shoulders as he fucked you into the mattress. “This cunt is mine, do you understand? Ryan doesnt matter. He can fuck you all he wants but you’ll always be thinking of me, won’t you?” Jack rambled. His possessiveness was making a grand appearance, the demon having a hard time keeping it together. You babbled an agreement, your mouth hanging open as he slammed into you. “Be a good little girl for me and cum on my cock. Go on,” Jack huffed. With another circle from his fingers your body shook under his, creaming on the demons cock. Your heart was racing so loudly it was all Jack could hear, the sound sending him over the edge.

He panted as he set your legs down, his seed down deep and buried into your womb. You were spent, your vision hazy and body exhausted. Jack slowly pulled out of you, watching your body tremble slightly. You were in no state to take care of yourself, the demon picking you up instinctively. He walked you over to the bathroom, guiding you to stand on the cold marble floor. “You need to pee,” He ordered. You raised your eyebrows, your face going with an afterglow. “Thats the last thing I expected you to say to me after that,” You chuckled. Jack raised his eyebrows, “What? It’s necessary to prevent future issues.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. You gently shoved him towards the door. “Get out so I can pee,” You say. He stood in the hallway, allowing you to shut the door for some privacy. Why you were insistent upon privacy to urinate after he had just fucked you senseless, Jack didn’t know. But what he did know, was that he wanted to fuck you again and again and again.

[lichenes]

I need protective jealous Joost. Maybe your at one of his concerts or an afterparty and someone keeps on flirting with you and you are trying to make it clear you not into them and uncomfortable so Joost comes to the rescue 🙏 (maybe some public making out occurs idk 🙈)

Thank you for the ask anon!! I need him biblically, truly CW: kissin, creeps, alcohol mentioned wc: 444

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────•

“Bedankt!!” He said waving at the audience. Joost went backstage. “You did so well.” You said putting your hands on his bare chest, the t-shirt discarded somewhere amongst the frenzy of the event. He was still full with adrenaline which made him… eager. He kissed you fervently as a hello to you and one of many kisses you were to receive that night. 

You went to the nearest club so you could let out the pent up energy you’ve accumulated over the span of the concert. Joost was still ready to party (as always) so he didn’t mind. You were dancing with him, the steaminess of the club not helping you both with the fervour you were both feeling at the moment. 

You decided to sit down for a while, leaving him to his own devices, when you were approached by a guy looking way more inebriated than you’d like. Before he said anything you pointed out Joost who was intimidating in his tall posture and proudly proclaimed him as your boyfriend. “I could sweep you off your feet better than this guy.” He leaned closer. “I could fuck you better than him too.” 

You twisted your face in a grimace giving him a look of disgust and as suddenly as he appeared you saw him being dragged away by Joost. You couldn’t quite make out what he was talking about as the music was deafening. The guy was ready to fight Joost right then and there. He explained something calmly and sent the guy on his way. When Joost was done the guy walked away mumbling something under his breath. 

He walked up to you even more steamed up than before and gave you an intense kiss which knocked the wind out of you. “Love you~” He mumbled into your mouth, making your stomach flutter. Between kisses you managed to let out “What did you say to him?” 

“That you’re mine.” He said tipsy from the drinks you both had. “‘nd that you wouldn’t leave me for a drunken creep.” You grinned and moved closer to kiss him. You put your hands into his hair and tugged, making him let out a groan. His hands were resting on your cheeks making sure you could not get away. He needed you all to yourself especially after that stupid fucking guy who thought he could steal you away.

He sat down and motioned for you to get closer to him. “C’mon, need you…” He said, his hands not once leaving your body. You sat in his lap receiving a ‘good job’ kiss as you settled into his larger body.

“Ik wil niemand anders dan jou.” 

•───────•°•❀•°•───────••────────•°•❀•°•────────• masterlist

[itzkatflixs]

SUMMER ON YOU -prettymuch

megan and yn are your average college students, broke and working multiple jobs. yet the two of you always end up happy no matter what, because your love for each other means more than the shit you two go though day to day. short snippets of your weeks spent together during the summer holidays.

We don't care if we are broke

When love is all we own

“bye baby! ill be back by 6 okay? ill grab some drinks otw home but the cheap ones… my boss hasnt sent me my paycheck yet” megan whines as she kisses your cheek before she heads out for work. you giggle, kissing her lil pout that formed and sent her out the door as you too get ready for your next shift. after an hour, you rush out, realizing that you were going to be late if you delayed any longer. snapping a selfie while walking, you sent it to megan, telling her you were on your way to work and couldnt wait to see her after.

you sigh heavily, the shift had drained your energy all because of some woman who decided she was entitled enough to treat you like shit. slipping on your headphones, you step out of the cafe and was met with a sudden shower. you laugh, feeling the rain fall onto you, drop by drop evaporating the tension youve been feeling since earlier.

meanwhile, megan was at the store picking up some drinks and snacks as she promised. she looks out, immediately brightening as she sees you cutely skipping in the puddles that were forming from the rain. she hurriedly puts down the basket, snapping a quick picture of you before opening the storefront’s door and calling out to you.

you whip around hearing you girlfriends voice from behind. you smile, running towards her and engulfing her into a tight hug as you pull her into the rain. megan smiles down at you, kissing your temples once you released her from the hug. you pout exaggeratedly, whining that the kisses werent enough. megan shakes her head at your shenanigans while grinning, giving a longing kiss on your lips.

“there you go my love, that good for now?” she asked as she takes your hand to pull you into the shop. you kiss her one more time before you let go of her, immediately racing to the candy aisle to grab some of your favorite candies. megan calls you, letting you know she already took your candies and was now selecting drinks. you croon out a thank you my savior while you cling to her and pecked her knuckles lightly.

the two of you shortly reach home, immediately plopping yourself on the couch as megan puts back the items. once she was done, you reach out for her, opening your arms wide as she sat down on your lap while holding two cans. you kiss her neck softly, mumbling your thanks as you take the can from her. as the night goes on, you two slowly fall asleep in each others arms, knowing that you wouldnt change a thing to be holed up a small apartment with the love of your life even though you two didnt have much.

I love it when you play with my hair

You know it feels so nice

you step out of the car, breathing in the salty winds whipping up a frenzy of your hair. megan appears next to you, tucking your stray hairs as she places a soft kiss on your cheek. the moon was shinning so brightly as the two of you made your way down to the sand. megan sets up the blanket as you skip around in the sand feeling the cooling breeze around you. as she looks over, she smiles softly, not having seen you this carefree in a while due to the extra job you took on to cover rent. megan calls you over to eat once she finished setting up the blanket and food.

“thank you loveee here have a biteee!” you cooed, lifting a spoonful of chicken rice that you cooked earlier to her mouth. megan opens wide as you feed her, eyes lighting up as she chews slowly, savoring it. she puffed up her cheeks full of food, trying to smile at you. you giggle at her antics, poking her cheek as she gestures wildly at you then the chicken rice then you again.

the two of you sit there eating as the night deepens and becomes cooler. shivering, you snuggle up to megan, who was playing with your hair, mindlessly twirling, shifting and combing through your hair. you hum quietly, enjoying the way she played with your hair. you look up to her, showcasing your puppy eyes before asking for more pieces of candy. megan refuses, knowing you would not be able to fall asleep if you had anymore.

“awhhh pweaseee darlinggg just one more?” you stick your lower lip out, batting your eyelashes as you twirl a strand of her hair. megan visibly falters for one second before shaking her head again. you try again, now become more exaggerated than before and yet megan was still not giving in. as a final resort, you kiss her deeply and grabbed the bag from behind her. you run from her as you gobble up the rest of the candies, laughing maniacally.

megans jaw dropped, surprised at the length you went just to eat the candies. she shoots up and start chasing you as you taunt her jokingly. once she caught you, she scoops you up bridal style, giggling as she hears you scream. she trudges back to the blanket, dropping you unceremoniously, before laying next to you. you rest your head on her shoulder, dropping a kiss there. she smiles softly, once again tangling her hands into your hair. you sigh softly, feeling her fingers starting to lightly massage your scalp.

as the two of you drift off slowly to sleep, you mumble out a i love you to megan thinking how lucky you were to get a lover as loving, hardworking and attentive as her. letting out a contented sigh, you knew you, you would love her till the end of time.

an: not me whipping out almost 1k in an hr when it took me months to write 800 for a graded sch essay :\

[heartshapedbubble]

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

[we-were-beautiful]

The Fox and The Hounds Ch. 6

A/N: Whelp here is chapter 6 only 2 months after I finished it. I’m sorry life got hectic for me and my beta I apologize in advance.  Thank you @loving-and-dreaming for being a wonderful beta

Summary: Its autumn court tradition to give your mate a fox kit before your ceremony. after years of knowing the Vanserra’s a mating bond snaps between the Autumn Heir and a well known smoke hound breeder

Warning: Mentions of violence and Beron being the father of the year  

 WC: 3.3k 

I wake up to the first rays of morning light hitting my face, and a fire at my back. It was too warm to be one of the hounds, and the strong arm pulling me closer reminded me that Eris had fallen asleep while we were talking last night. Apparently he was a snuggler. A pitiful whine drew my attention away from my mate who was curled around me. Sitting at the edge of the bed was one of Eris' hounds looking like they wanted to hop up onto the bed but didn’t want to upset the others that were there. 

I took stock of the hounds that had decided to sleep in the bed. Ramiel was still tucked against my front while Rosie had curled by my feet. Ichabod had taken residence along the bottom of the mattress. Paprika had curled herself up beside my head and on my hair. if I were to bet there was probably a hound or two on the other side of Eris.

“I can hear you thinking. Go back to sleep.” Eris rasped sleepily from behind me; squeezing me closer to him burying his face into my neck.

“I think we need to get up, Eris.” I wiggle trying to escape. “The last thing we need is for the servants to walk in here and see us.”

I wouldn’t be surprised if they did see us, that they would go straight to the High Lord. Once Eris’ brain processes what I just said he sits straight up disturbing the three hounds that had been curled up behind him. Despite how coldly he acted around his family I knew that deep down Eris was terrified of what his father would do if provoked. 

“I will mess up one of the beds. Make it look like I slept there.” He moves to get out of the bed. 

“We probably have an hour or two before the staff get here. Is there anything that you would like to request for breakfast?” 

 I sit up in the bed and take in the sight of my mate.  If we had completed the mating bond it would have been so easy for me to just go down stairs and cook for the two of us. But the act of preparing a meal would signify that I was accepting the bond, and trigger the mating frenzy. Which would not be good for either of us. Males while caught in the frenzy were insatiable and volatile. Any other male was seen as a threat regardless of family ties. And two we were expected to adhere to royal protocol. 

We would have our mating ceremony in front of the court, then after the reception we would retreat to our private quarters or this house most likely, and I would prepare a simple meal for Eris. We would spend an undetermined amount of time alone locked in the throes of the frenzy. Periodically some poor guard would be sent to check on us; to see if we were close to being done. If Eris decided to maul that person then we would be given more time. 

Preparations for our mating ceremony had been in full swing since the bond had snapped, and we had roughly 2 weeks before the actual ceremony. It seems like Father and the High lord wanted this union to happen quickly; given that I have seen preparations for a ceremony take 6 or more months. If we had been two common fae, we would have been able to run off to a priestess and have our union blessed the moment the bond snapped; but with Eris being the son of the high lord and heir apparent there was more need for pomp and ceremony. And if the two of us were caught in bed together we would end up facing the wrath of the High Lord for certain. Beron Vanserra was not one to take any scandals lightly. He liked to keep the illusion of the Vanserra name squeaky clean. Any scandalous behavior was swept under the rug and brutally punished. 

“Eggs, toast, and bacon would be amazing, but whatever the kitchen staff prepares will be alright.” He looks at me as if not expecting the simple request.

“Just eggs, bacon, and toast? You don’t want a full spread?” He furrows his brows in confusion. 

“My family doesn’t often do fancy morning meals unless your father is expected to be in attendance.” I admit. 

Honestly we didn’t feel the need to have overly fancy meals despite our station. Why waste food for one meal when you could save money with simpler meals. Admittedly we spent a lot of gold on the hounds, but the return was always palpable. I fetched a small fortune with every litter I produced. Hells, I had quadrupled my already sizable dowery with a fraction of what my hounds brought in. 

“That surprisingly makes sense. Eris had gotten out of the bed and was leaning on the door frame. “I will see you downstairs then.”

“Wait.” I call out as he turns to leave, “How should I dress for the day?” 

“Nothing too fancy, we are just going into town today. The townsfolk are more accustomed to seeing me in casual clothes so if I go in court wear it might be concerning.” He lets out a chuckle. 

“So pants would be alright?”  I asked.

“Pants would be fine, preferably actually if we take horses into town.” He scratches at his head “ I know you ladies have riding dresses; but I don’t have a side saddle here, and honestly it seems a bit dangerous to be riding in a dress.” his brow furrows

Thank the mother. While I could ride sidesaddle I hated it; The dresses always got in the way and attracted mud like no other. I much prefer riding astride in pants. Pants also meant that it was easier for me to get ready by myself. This was a win win. 

“Alright, Thank you Eris.” I watch a smile grow on his face.

“You’re welcome. I will see you in a bit.” He gives me a nod before shutting the door. A host of eyes look at me on the bed. Of course the hounds look like they haven't seen food in years, despite the fact they were fed just last night.  

“Let me get ready then we will get you your breakfast..” I laugh while standing from the bed. 

Thankfully my ladies maid back home had packed one of my work outfits. A nice pair of breeches and coordinating linen shirt and a pair of tall riding boots. A nice structured leather vest would go over the shirt to provide support and complete the outfit. I would wait for Melonie to get here to help wrangle my hair into a style suitable for riding, but the outfit is easy enough for me to don by myself. 

Once dressed, I head down stairs followed by a pack of hounds and one small fox. My boot falls echoed by the clicks of their nails on the hardwood. Down in the living room Eris is lounging on the oversized armchair. 

“We need to get them food before they start getting snippy.” I commented to him. He laughs standing from the chair. 

“Yeah lets get them fed, and let them out to play for a bit. We can leave them out when we go into town; one of the servants can keep an eye on them.” He moved towards the kitchen to fetch their meal.  I make quick work of collecting all of their bowels from the floor to start filling. This will definitely be easier with a kennel. We can get all of the hounds into their own space and feed them from there. While this way works it is a bit chaotic. 

As the two of us work in silence the household servants filter their way unseen into the house. The Autumn Court prided themselves in the quiet effectiveness of their servants. Most could work in the house and not ever be seen for fear of punishment. The only ones that were normally visible were the ones who served food during meals, but then they didn’t respond unless spoken to. 

“Eris Vanserra!” A voice pulled us out of our little world. “What is this mess!” 

Ah, the housekeeper is here, and just like we predicted, upset.  A short routund wood nymph burst into the kitchen. She glares up at Eris with a look I never thought I would see directed at him from anyone except his father.

“Sorry Aisling.  The hounds decided last night was a good time to play in the rain.”  at least he had the audacity to look sheepish.

“I have told you for years that you need a kennel Eris; but have you listened to me no, and now you have added seven more to make messes.” She scolded him like a small faeling.

“I know. I know, and I will be speaking to the mason today about having one built. I have learned my lesson, trust me.” I would prefer to not have almost 20 hounds running through the house coated in mud again. 

“You better, seeing as there is mud throughout the house and your room is trashed.” I try to hide my snicker in a cough.

“Oh I am so sorry Lady L/N. I didn’t see you there.” If possible it seemed like her rich bark skin darkened just a bit around her cheeks. She drops into a curtsy.

“Dear, this is my head housekeeper, Aisling.” Eris chuckles clearly amused by the way he had gotten out of his scolding. 

“It's nice to meet you Aisling.” I give the nymph a smile. 

“It’s nice to meet you as well my lady. We will need to speak at one point on how you would like the household to be run after the ceremony.” She keeps her head bowed.

“I look forward to speaking with you and working together.” and I was. I only had the basics on how to run a house from watching my mother, but I am certain that it is a lot more involved than I am used to. So having someone with experience will be a major leg up for me. She looks up at me as if not expecting me to be as accepting towards her as I was. She looks between me and Eris eyeing the bowls that are strewn about the two of us.

“We can talk later, but for now you two please leave and let us take over.” She slowly shoos the two of us out of the kitchen. I chanced a quick look over my shoulder to see several servants quickly replace Eris and I as we made our way to an informal dining room. 

Instead of the large table in the other room, this room has a simple wooden table that could seat at max 8 people. Eris pulls out one of the plain chairs for me to sit in before taking a seat across from me. A servant quickly enters the room with a tea service for the two of us, placing a cup in front of each of us before setting the pot and sugars and cream in between us.

“Your breakfast should be ready shortly.” is the only thing that he says before bowing and leaving the room.

“It's funny seeing them act all formally with you.” Eris grabs the teapot and pours himself a cup before passing it over to me.

“They don’t normally act like this?” I ask and furrow my brow in confusion.

“They act like this if my father is around, but if it's just me it's fairly informal.” He looks at me as if he can see the worry growing in my stomach. “Don’t worry they will relax around you soon enough dear.” 

Like the servant said, our breakfast comes out shortly. Eggs, bacon and toast for me; and bacon and porridge for Eris. Seems like we shared the same Ideas about a simple breakfast. Soon the pot of tea is empty and so are our plates.

. 

“Are you ready to go?” Eris asks, standing up. 

“I just need to have Melonie help me with my hair and then I will be ready to go.” I responded.

“Ok I will go and get the horses ready. Meet me out front when you are ready, and we can head into town.” He pulls out my chair and helps me stand. We part ways out of the dining room. Melonie is already in my room by the time I reach it.

“Ah Y/N  there you are and you’re already dressed.” She looks me up and down. “Pants?” 

“We are going into town today and Eris doesn't have a side saddle.” I explained, “Can you help me with my hair?”

“Take a seat at the vanity and we will get you settled.” She shakes her head.

Melonie takes her time to properly handle my hair. Fully focused on her tasks. I can see why Eris picked her for me.

“What's the town like?” I asked in curiosity. I had never been to Rivervale, and I wanted to know what to expect.

“Its town.” She shrugs “Rivervale is like most of the other small towns in Autumn. Most of our incomes come from distilleries, but the people are friendly enough. Eris is there pretty regularly so most of them just treat him like any other person.” 

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn't it.

“Is there anything you would recommend me to do in town?” better to ask a local on what to do in town rather than just randomly guessing.

“Have Eris take you to Ma’s and get you a spiced cider. It's nice to have while you walk about. If you are looking for food, Regen's has some of the best meat pies in the providence.” She pauses for a second “Not sure if you are looking for clothing, but if you look for Dorcas’ she makes some beautiful dresses amongst other things.” 

She quickly finishes off my hair with a final pin. 

“Okay is there anything else you need?” She asks.

“I need Paprika’s bag and leash, and my purse.” The little fox was more than comfortable riding in the leather satchel when we traveled on horseback, but the moment I was on the ground the wiggly little thing wanted to dart about hence the leash. 

Melonie quickly darts about the room gathering up the requested Items. She passes off the leash to me which I clip onto Paprika’s collar. She then hands over the bags . We head down the stairs to the entrance. 

“One of Eris sentries will be accompanying you. Just pretend he doesn't exist. I had forgotten about the sentries that always seemed to follow the two of us around. Eris to my knowledge was a formidable warrior and technically didn’t need a babysitter but Beron insisted on it. I would put money on that one of the sentries is feeding Beron information about Eris and I. 

We are greeted to the sight of Eris flanked by two sentries and four horses tied to the railing.

“Are we ready to head out?” I ask with a cheery smile.

“I think so.” Eris responds by motioning for the senties’ to start mounting up. I make quick work of scooping Paprika up and placing her into her bag. The wiggly kit squirms before curling up into a small ball. 

“This is Solace. She's a good, reliable horse.” Eris leads me over to a large black mare. He cups his hands together to give me a leg up, ever the gentleman. “It's about a 30 minute ride into Rivervale. Ignore the sentries they shouldn’t be too much of a bother”

“Ok.” He nods, walking over to a large bay gelding that he mounts with ease. We rode through the forest in silence for a while. I take in the brightly colored leaves that fall around us as we ride. Truly the Autumn Court has to be the most beautiful courts in Prythian. The vast woods are painted with various reds, yellows, browns and oranges. Dotted by picturesque villages and towns. Yeah the other courts had their respective draws but Autumn will always be my favorite.

So I have been told to have you take me to Ma’s for cider when we get there.” I look over to where Eris rides next to me.

“I had planned on that but let me guess Aisling or Melonie.” He looks at me with a fond smile. 

“Melonie. I asked for recommendations since I have never been to Rivervale.” I laugh.

“Really you’ve never been.” He sounded shocked.

“No, I typically only travel around when I’m dropping off puppies, or checking the homes of potential buyers, but no one from here has ever purchased one.” I’m not even sure that there is someone that could afford the price tag that came with one of the puppies from my kennels.

“Well it seems like the Mayor didn’t take my advice then.” He scoffed.

“You recommended me for smokehound puppies?” I asked shocked.

“You have provided the Vanserra's with our best hounds; I would be an idiot if you weren't the one that I recommended” It is a no nonsense response. 

“Do you know who else he was looking into?” I asked. The breeding community was relatively small, and some were more reputable than others.

“It was between  your family, the Daxton’s and I think the Stonewallis’.” I grimace at the mention of the Stonewallis family.  I'm picky about the homes my puppies go to; I turned them down when their patriarch approached me when Willow had her last litter. The hounds that had come from that family were not healthy as a result of inbreeding. Yeah they sold them cheaper than others but they cut a lot of corners as well. Their hounds were also kept in poor conditions. I wouldn't leave any of my hounds in that place let alone a puppy.

“That's a sour face right there.” He looks over at me from his horse.

“Hopefully he went with the Daxton’s. I wouldn’t want any of the pups out of the Stonewallis’ kennel. They don’t have a good reputation” I bluntly respond.

.

“So I heard. Asher looked into a pup from there about 6 years ago and said it was beyond disgusting. Do you know why people keep getting pups from there?” I can hear the curiosity in his voice.

“Because they make them more accessible. Cheaper prices and more litters. Where I wait a few years between litters in my bitches; they will try and breed theirs once a litter is born.” I scoff. “Honestly, some of us breeders thought about bringing it up to the High Lord. These hounds are the pride of the Autumn Court, and it is shameful to see what that family is doing to those poor hounds.” 

Sadly we couldn’t bring him to the High Lord without more proof. Lyra Heaton had managed to get a hold of one of the pups through a third party noble, and honestly the poor thing wasn’t doing good. It had a lot of health problems when she brought it into her home, and as it got older more concerning problems started showing. Within two years the poor things hips had all but fused together and slowly it was going blind.

“Why haven’t you?” It is an honest question. 

“We needed more solid proof. I have only just managed to get a look at their kennels and the Heaton’s got ahold of a pup. We think that might be enough to get an audience with the High Lord.” 

“When we get home write to the others. I will get you an audience with my father.” If Beron Vanserra loved one thing other than power, it was his beloved hunting dogs. “I think he will be quite interested to hear about what they have been doing.” 

Soon we break through the forest into a charming little town nestled along a river. 

“Welcome To Rivervale, my dear.” Eris looks over to me and gives me a wide smile. 

Taglist @b0xerdancer @imma-too-many-fandoms @judig92 @fall-myriad @j-brielmalfoy @highlady-ofillyria @percyjacksonspeen @nyctophiliiiiaaa @marigold-morelli @azzydaddy @isa1b2h3 @kitsunetori @lilah-asteria

[in1-nutshell]

Optimus Prime adopting a sparkling with reactions from the Decepticons

Continuation of last request.

Optimus adopting a sparkling reactions from Autobots

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

G1

Lately there had been more Decepticon activity than usual, meaning less time for Buddy to spend time with Optimus.

He tried to spend his free time with Buddy, but he was so tired.

“Hey Prime—Woah…”--Bumblebee

 Optimus faceplanted on a book while Buddy was watching something on the datapad.

“I should probably go get Ratchet.”--Bumblebee

Optimus snapping awake.

“Don’t do that!”--Optimus

“Prime!”—Bumblebee

Startled sparkling noises.

“Sorry about that.”--Optimus

“Oh, it’s okay Optimus. No harm done. Hi Buddy!”—Bumblebee

Buddy waving.

“But please don’t tell Ratchet. I haven’t slept in 2 decacycles and I think he’s onto me…”--Optimus

Buddy soon started to notice that everyone else was becoming more and more tired by the day. Their regular babysitters looked tired every time it was their turn to handle Buddy. Not having much energy to deal with a sparkling. Buddy regularly started spending more time with the Dinobots, which they were happy to have Buddy over.

“Hey Grimlock, I brought Buddy over.”--Wheeljack

“Hmmm… Why Tiny Buddy come so much now?”--Grimlock

“Well Optimus and some of the others are taking more patrol shifts after the recent Con activity in the area.”--Wheeljack

“So…”--Grimlock

We cant take care of them right now Grimlock. That’s why we need you guys to watch Buddy until we come back.”--Wheeljack

Oh, Me Grimlock understand now.”--Grimlock

“Thank you—”--Wheeljack

“Buddy is Grimlock sparkling now!”--Grimlock

“WHAT NO—”--Wheeljack

“Dinobot’s who say Tiny Buddy is Grimlock sparkling say ‘eye’!”--Grimlock

“This is not up for debate Grimlock! Buddy is still—”--Wheeljack

“Eye!”--Dinobots

“5 against 1. Dinobot’s win!”--Grimlock

“Oh Primus…”--Wheeljack

Meanwhile on patrol…

Optimus suddenly stopping.

“Whats wrong Prime? See any Con’s?”--Ironhide

“It’s the Buddy tingle…”--Optimus

“Is Buddy okay?”--Bumblebee

“… I’ll need to get back to base earlier than usual.”--Optimus

But then they started getting called in.

Buddy started being left alone with Grampa Sparkplug and Spike.

One morning Buddy tried keeping Optimus from getting out of the base by holding onto his servo for dear life. Optimus simply put them back into their makeshift crib and patted their helm, gently closed the door, and walked off for his morning patrols.

Prime thought he was leaving Buddy under the supervision of the Dinobots.

He didn’t know that the Dinobots had gone with Wheeljack and Hound to go see the new outdoor museum.

The Dinobots thought that Buddy was safe in the base with Ratchet and Sparkplug.

Ratchet and Sparkplug were out in town with Hoist and Grapple getting some more spare parts for the med bay and future projects for Wheeljack.

Ratchet and Sparkplug thought Buddy was with Bumblebee, Spike, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

The four of them were on a scouting mission that Prime had sent them on.

Which brings us back to Buddy.

Buddy for the first time since they had been found, was all alone in the base.

Buddy tried calling for anyone to come and get them.

After a while of calling Buddy started crying.

And crying hard.

Soundwave was trying to collect his thoughts.

He was on a mission from Megatron to get some more intel on Teletran one with his mini’s.

“Man, that was easy!”--Frenzy

“I know right! How many times has that loser Spike fallen for the old ‘lost casseste player’ thing?”--Rumble

“Too many to count.”--Frenzy

“Rumble, Frenzy: Quiet.”--Soundwave

“But—”--Rumble

“Comence operation: Teletran—”--Soundwave

“WWAAAAHHHHH!”--Buddy

“What was that?”--Frenzy

“Who was that?! I thought every one left!”--Rumble

“WWWAAAHHHHH!”--Buddy

“New operation: Soundwave investigate. Ravage, Frenzy, Rumble, Lazerbeak get Teletran One information.”--Soundwave

“On it, Boss!”--Rumble

Soundwave used his telepathic powers to seek the mind who was in the base.

He was hit with a sudden wave of raw emotions.

Sadness.

Anger.

Worry.

Fear.

So much Fear.

He wasted no time going and seeing who this was.

The closer he got to the room the more he could hear the screams.

The screams sounded like a youngling.

No Autobot would start torturing natives of this planet… right?

The new blast of screams caused him to nearly rip the door from its hinges.

RRRIIIIIIPPPPPP!

“Who is there? Show your self.”--Soundwave

“WWWAAAaahh?”--Buddy

“A… sparkling?”--Soundwave

Happy sparkling noises.

“Operation: Adoption in process.”--Soundwave

Sparkling reaching upward.

“Operation Adoption: Complete. Sparkling: Mine now.”--Soundwave

“Hey, Soundwave we got the—Sweet Primus! Is that a sparkling?!”--Rumble

“Rumble: Hush.”--Soundwave

“Hey—”--Frenzy

“Shhh! Soundwave has a sparkling!”--Rumble

“A sparkling!?”--Frenzy

“Frenzy: Hush.”--Soundwave

“The Autobots left them alone?”--Frenzy

“Answer: positive.”--Soundwave

“… You’re gonna take them, aren’t you?”--Rumble

Soundwave tucking in the sparkling into his chassis.

Dad mode was activated.

As soon as he was outside of the entrance, he started hearing some of the younger Autobots coming near. Quickly putting Buddy into his Chassis, Soundwave quietly ran into the night.

Soundwave made it back to the Nemesis where he took Buddy out of his chassis along with the other cassettes.

Soundwave doesn’t know what happened in there, but it turns out the cassettes had made some sort of blood oath to look after the sparkling.

Everyone is crowding around the small family trying to get a look at the sparkling.

The minicons tried forming a protective barrier between them and the sparkling.

“Hey back up Screamer! You’ll scare the kid!”--Rumble

“How dare you—”--Stascream

Ravage and Lazerbeak standing by Buddy’s side daring the Second in Command to come closer.

“Fine… I didn’t want to see it anyways.”--Starscream

“Where did you fine the sparkling?”--Thundercracker

“Autobot base. Base empty. Sparkling only one there.”--Soundwave

“Did you get the information?”--Starscream

“Information gained successfully.”--Soundwave

“Nice, but who’s going to tell Megatron?”--Skywarp

“Whose, going to tell me what?”--Megatron

Sparkling sneezing noises.

“What…”--Megatron

The crowd was parted when Megatron entered the room. Soundwave stated what happened during his mission. Leaving Megatron a bit disgusted with his enemy.

How could Prime be so irresponsible for leaving the sparkling alone.

They even have humans that can look after the sparkling.

Well maybe not Spike, but the other ones are more competent than that one!

Now Megatron isn’t that dumb.

He knows where to draw the line in his ways, especially with new Cybertronian sparklings.

But at the same time, he wants to teach Prime a lesson.

“Soundwave, you will have custody of the sparkling until the end of the week.”--Megatron

“Affirmative.”--Soundwave

“Listen, my army! This sparkling is not to be harmed under no circumstance! They will be part of the Decepticon army until the end of the week. Some of you will be looking after the sparkling, so you better plant that idea in your processors. Now any questions?”--Megatron

“Here!”--Thundercracker

“Yes Thundercracker.”--Megatron

“Are we going to have to give the sparkling a name? Because I don’t want to call them ‘sparkling’ every single time.”--Thundercracker

“Umm…”--Megatron

“Buddy!”--Buddy

“…Did—did the kid—”--Skywarp

“Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!”--Buddy

“I guess that’s their name.”--Rumble

The Cons decide to agree to one rule: No one is going to get attached.

Right?

You have Con’s who are already building up their emotional wall higher already wishing the week would be over.

Then you have Con’s like Soundwave who are already printing out copies for sharing the custody over the sparkling.

Everyone swears not to get attached.

That is the one thing they all fail to do.

As Buddy guardian during the week, he makes sure that most of his assignments are base operated.

Megatron can deal with it until the week is over.

The minicons are the primary babysitters for the sparkling.

Rumble and Frenzy try to teach the sparkling how to rough house which ends up with both fighting each other over the best way to give someone an uppercut.

Ravage likes to take naps near the sparkling.

Lazerbeak and Buzzsaw together like giving the sparkling little flying lessons.

Ratbat likes cuddling the sparkling when they are deep asleep, he’ll leave as soon as the sparkling starts waking up.

Soundwave entering back to his habsuite after some decoding.

“Rumble. Frenzy. Where is Buddy?”--Soundwave

Soundwave sees a cuddle pile of minicons around the sleeping sparkling on his berth.

Soundwave sighs softly and joins the pile.

The Elite Trine are the ones who really give the sparkling a flying lesson.

The three of them have a timer that tells them when to give the other a chance with the sparkling.

Skywarp warps with Buddy in his arms all over the Nemesis which makes them laugh loudly. He was quickly banned from doing this after he got stuck in a wall again and Buddy nearly dropped to the floor if it weren’t for Soundwave.

Starscream tries the entire time to get the sparkling to say ‘Hail Starscream’. Somehow the sparkling says ‘Hail Megatron’ and ‘Hail Optimus’. Where did they learn those two names? He blames Skywarp.

Thundercracker being the tamer one of the group takes the sparkling out of the base and peacefully flies above the clouds and careful not to fly above Autobot territory.

Buddy on the floor drawing something on a datapad.

“Whatcha drawing Buddy?”--Skywarp

“Seek! Seek!”--Buddy

“Seek? Do you mean Seeker?”--Thundercracker

“Seek! Seek!”--Buddy

“So, they decided to draw us Elite Seekers then. Quite fitting as we are the best Seekers in the Decepticon Armada. Well, show us.”--Starscream

Buddy showing a picture of them flying through the air; Skywarp surrounded by the purple crayon, Thundercracker had thunder bolt stickers, Starscream had a little crown on him. All topped with the Con logo stamped multiple times on the pad.

“That’s a weirdly cute drawing.”--Skywarp

“Yeah—Screamer are you crying?”--Thundercracker

Starscream’s optics filling with coolant.

“N-no.”--Starscream

Blitzwing and Astrotrain are set on babysitting duty one day when Soundwave and the minicons couldn’t see to it.

The both of them swear that the sparkling is going to cry when they see them and they are going to laugh.

Two hours into ‘Titanic’ the two Cons are trying to sniffle in the coolant that is dripping down their faceplates and sparkling is laughing at the humans in the funny dresses.

“Umm… why are you guys watching ‘Titanic’?”--Thundercracker

“Shut it!”--Astrotrain

“Oh C’mon! Jack obviously didn’t steal your dumb necklace, Rose! Don’t fall for that lousy trick!”--Blitzwing

“Ha Rosey!”--Buddy

“Exactly Buddy! Rose is funny to have fallen for this lousy trick! But with the power of love and plot, she’ll figure out that out!”--Thundercracker

“…”—Astrotrain, Blitzwing, Thundercracker

“…You want to join?”--Blitzwing

“…yes.”--Thundercracker

Buddy becomes nearly enamored with the sight of Devastator.

The huge bot is just crouching and lightly poking at the sparkling’s belly as it giggles and laughs loudly.

Devestator likes this.

When he goes back into the Constructicons, the adoration doesn’t stop.

Scrapper and Scavenger make little sparkling safe toys for Buddy to play around with. All in green and purple colors. Like the little Construction they are!

Bonecrusher is a little cautious to be near Buddy thinking he would accidentally hurt them. Buddy lies to sit on his lap, where he just becomes as stiff as a statue to not hurt Buddy.

Long Haul looks after Bonecrusher so nothing bad happens to Buddy. Which is mainly fixing Buddy’s posture, so they don’t tumble off of his teammates lap.

Mixmaster is not allowed to be near Buddy without Hook nearby. Hook may not be the strongest member of the Constructicons, but he also knows that there is a higher possibility of Buddy getting a scratch with Mix. As designated medic, he has his bandages ready.

Devestator holding Buddy in the palm of his servo.

Buddy giggling.

“Devestator shedding one single tear from the cuteness

Megatron tries to sneak in extra time from other Cons, but he can’t do it.

Soundwave is serious about having his kid -er- Buddy spending time with everyone equally.

But since Megatron has a lot of things to do he has his scientist build a device similar to what human’s strap on to take their younger infants on their chassis.

So many of his soldiers have to use every amount of will power not to laugh or giggle as Megatron is giving out battle plans as the sparkling strapped to his chassis is chewing on a rust stick.

“We will attack the base here. Then we shall—”--Megatron

Buddy sneezes.

“Aww!”--Decepticons

“As I was saying, we shall then—”--Megatron

Buddy laughing loudly for no reason.

“AWW!”--Decepticons

“…We shall—”--Megatron

Buddy tanks rumbling.

“Buddy: need fueling. Commence operation: Fueling time.”--Soundwave

“…Meeting dismissed...”--Megatron

The day finally comes to return the sparkling back. Megatron is already making plans with Soundwave to get the sparkling next month for another week.

Surprisingly there are some tears shed as Buddy waves goodbye to their new friends as Soundwave takes them back to the surface.

“You take care kid.”--Thundercracker

“Can’t wait for our next movie night!”--Blitzwing

“We’ll watch ‘The Goonies’ next time!”--Astrotrain

“I guess this is good-bye then. Until we meet again.”--Starscream

“I know you’re gonna miss them Screamer. Just admit it.”--Skywarp

“Shut… fine. We will see each other soon, Buddy.”--Starscream

“Good-Bye Buddy.”--Devestator

“We’ll see ya soon you little punk.”--Frenzy

“Don’t talk to strangers that aren’t us!”--Rumble

“Farewell little one. We will see each other shortly.”--Megatron

“Bye-bye!”--Buddy

Meanwhile last week at the base.

Everyone was in panic mode.

Someone had kidnapped Buddy, and they didn’t have any video evidence of who had done it.

Everyone is blaming themselves for not being there for Buddy.

But Optimus is the worst of them all.

He had tried calling the Decepticons multiple times seeing if they had kidnapped Buddy and wanted ransom. They hadn’t answered. They had gone radio silence.

Optimus was going through everyone that would want revenge on him and thinking about where they could have taken Buddy. Ratchet and Ironhide have had to sedate him into getting some sleep.

When the Dinobots found out they nearly went berserk.

They are the first out the door looking for Buddy and the last to come back from searching.

Everyone is on high alert.

Back to the present.

Soundwave was hiding behind some tall trees that were near the base. There was a path that led straight to the base if they just continued the path.

“Buddy. Go down path.”--Soundwave

“Path?”--Buddy

“Commence operation: Go home.”--Soundwave

“Home?”--Buddy

“Yes, go to Prime. Good-bye Buddy.”

Soundwave bending down to hug Buddy one last time before placing them on the ground and walks down the opposite direction.

Soundwave looked from his hiding place until he was sure that Buddy was in the clear before heading back to the Nemesis.

Buddy waited a bit then started down the familiar path back home. It was the same nature path Optimus and Grimlock sometimes used when they needed to go for a walk and to get back to the base.

They speed up their little walk as more things start getting familiar to their optics. Especially the greenery around the large boulder.

They spot a familiar red and blue figure sitting on their special boulder and squeal in delight.

“Oppy! Oppy!”--Buddy

“Buddy!? Buddy!���--Optimus

“Oppy!”--Buddy

“Buddy!”--Optimus

Optimus’s knees give out as he crashes to the ground with Buddy in his arms. He is letting a sob of relief out feeling Buddy’s little servos on his facemask.

“Oppy? Oppy no cry. Happy! No sad!”--Buddy

“I am not sad Buddy…I am happy. So happy…”--Optimus

[emjiroki]

♡ Alpha Yuuta drabble ♡

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Omegaverse dynamics, mentions of rut and breeding, blood, biting, Yuuta being a feral king (and a bit needy ♡)

"Baby, Baby wake up" Yuuta murmured, his voice sleep slurred and heavy as he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face against the nape of your neck.

"Love, it's not even been an hour yet" You groaned, glancing over at your phone charging next to the bed.

"I know I know, I'm sorry it's just... you're so beautiful and your scent I..." his words tappers off into a growling whine as he dragged his hands to your hips to hold you as he thrust his hips against the plush of your ass. His rut was really bad this time.

You relaxed for just a few more minutes, letting him leak and drool against your bare skin before trying to turn to him.

"Don't move" he grunted, holding you in place with one hand against your neck and the other grasping your thigh and holding it up. Breaching your entrance for the fourth time today had him almost crying with relief, the warm wetness sucking him in and squeezing like a vice. It's everything he needed and knew for sure that he would die without it.

You thought he would cum right then and there with how hard he throbbed against the deepest parts inside of you as he bottomed out, a choked groaned spilling across your neck as he moved his hand in favor of his mouth, nipping and sucking against the flesh in an attempt not to bite you again. Bite marks and fingerprints bruises littered your body and you would most definitely be sore after this week is done.

You gasped into the darkened room at the feeling of his canines piercing your skin, a deep rumbling growl gracing your ears as he fucked into your tired but pliant body.

"Y-Yuuta" you whimpered, your hand going back behind you to thread your fingers through his dark hair, your Alpha purring at the feeling.

"I know, can't help myself, taste so good" his reply was muffled as blood bubbled out around his sharp teeth. His pace was near frenzied as he humped against you, apologies and praises escaping with every fervent thrust of his hips as you moaned so sweetly for him.

"Not enough, need to breed you deeper". You didn't have to look into his dark eyes to see that he had dropped completely into his rut headspace, his needy fingers and jaw locked onto your neck was more than enough confirmation as he moved you onto your stomach, his knees caging you in as he pressed you down to the mattress, the prone position getting him as deep as he wanted with a satisfied groan. It's felt as if he was in your guts as you shut your eyes against the onslaught of mind-numbing pleasure buzzing up your spine, completely pinned to the bed and mounted.

"Omega, baby I'm gonna-"

"Cum for me" you whined, wanting more than anything to feel his lips on yours. He pulled his mouth away from your neck, smearing his lips down to press bloody kisses along your shoulders.

"Gonna breed this pretty pussy, she's drooling for me" He growled, the feeling of his knot swelling has you grasping at the sheets. His scent was so musky and feral with rut pheromones that it sent you over the edge, your slick cunt squeezing him so hard as you cried out his name that it milked his orgasm from the bottom of his balls, his voice an almost howling cry of relief as his knot locked and held his cock snug inside you as he painted your welcoming womb a sticky white. He was panting and shaking so hard his arms gave out, his heavy body laying on top of you as he incessantly rubbed his scent across your throat and any bare skin he could reach.

"L-Lets try and get some rest" Yuuta stammered still trying to catch his breath as he wrapped his arms around you to hold you close, "before I get worked up again".

[marsborne]

Midnight Waltz - Pinocchio x f!Reader

Noticing that your puppet companion isn't at his best, you try to lift his spirits, offering a brief escape from his troubles. - warnings: none - word count: 1.1k

It was a night like any other at Hotel Krat, shrouded in an air of melancholic elegance. The dimly lit corridors whispered with the weight of unspoken fears, their inhabitants tucked away in isolation, whether from the unrelenting horrors of the Puppet Frenzy or the silent doom of the Petrification Disease. Yet, within the vast loneliness of the grand hotel, something stirred—a longing, a quiet ache in the cold air.

Sleep eluded you. The absence of your dear puppet companion gnawed at your heart. Geppetto had sent him out again, as he always did, heedless of the strain on his delicate yet unyielding frame. You often wondered. Did his gears ever get stuck? Did his joints grow weary? Did he even understand what it meant to rest?

With a sigh, you abandoned your bed, wrapping yourself in the hush of the midnight halls. The moonlight spilled through the windows, casting silver ribbons upon the polished floors. You had intended to make your way to the library, to lose yourself in the stories you and Pinocchio so often shared. But then, a sound. Low grunts, the unmistakable whisper of a blade slicing through resistance.

Your head turned toward the hotel’s garden doors. Closed, when they were usually left open. Your chest tightened. There was only one person—one puppet—who could be behind them.

Steeling yourself, you stepped forward and pushed open the door.

The cold night air curled around you, kissing your skin through the thin fabric of your nightgown. And there he was.

Pinocchio.

But something was wrong.

He moved with a ferocity you had never seen, slashing at the training dummies with a silent fury. His body, usually so graceful, was taut with unspoken rage, his strikes relentless, desperate. He wasn’t training. He was fighting something unseen, something that clung to him like a shadow.

Your heart ached at the sight. Slowly, cautiously, you approached. His movements stilled, his head tilting slightly as if he had always known you were there. Of course, he had.

“Pino?” Your voice was as soft as the night breeze. “Are you alright?”

He turned to you fully, his expression unreadable. But the way his hand gripped his weapon, as if it were the last thing tethering him to this world, spoke volumes.

Without a word, he nodded, then turned away, sinking onto one of the garden benches. You followed without hesitation.

“As much as I admire your growth, you know your lies don’t work on me,” you murmured, almost teasing, but the concern in your voice was unmistakable. “Tell me. What’s bothering you?”

He slumped forward, though not entirely, his gaze fixed on the ground. A heavy silence stretched between you before he finally whispered,

“I…I don’t know.”

Your mind raced. Was it something you had done? Something someone else had said? Or was it the horrors of Krat weighing on him, the ever present burden of Geppetto’s expectations?

“Pino, had I—”

“No."

His voice cut through the air.

"No. Never.”

His sudden interruption shocked you. Pinocchio was always soft spoken, careful with his words. He had never cut you off so sharply before. When he turned to you, his striking blue eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in existence.

“You can do no wrong in my eyes.”

His voice was gentle, reverent, as if he feared the weight of his own words. And then, with exquisite care, he took your hand in his own, holding it as though you were made of glass.

You blinked, stunned. Your heart pounded, warmth blooming in your chest. No one had ever spoken to you like that before. Not with such conviction, such devotion.

And in that moment, an idea bloomed in your mind. A quiet, reckless idea.

Without a second thought, you rose, tugging his hand with you. He looked up at you, confusion softening his features, but he did not resist. He never would.

You led him to the center of the garden, where the moonlight bathed the flowers in silver.

“Dance with me.”

A beat of silence.

“…What?”

“Dance with me.”

His lips parted slightly, his gears whirring ever so faintly in hesitation. He had seen posters of elegant couples waltzing at Rosa Isabelle Street, but no one had ever asked him to dance before. And what if he did it wrong? What if he misstepped, held you too tightly?

Sensing his unease, you smiled. “Relax. It’s alright. It's just us.”

That seemed to do something to him. Slowly, hesitantly, he let you guide his hands—one to your waist, the other resting in your palm. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, setting the stance of a waltz.

There was no music, just the rustling of the leaves and the rhythmic hum of his core. He was stiff at first, uncertain, but he followed your lead. With each step, something in him softened, unwound. And then, it hit him.

He needed this.

No. He needed you.

“…Why?” His voice was a whisper against the night. “Why would you do this with me?”

You hesitated before resting your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. “Because I wanted to. I wanted you to do anything but fight for once. I…wanted to make you feel better.”

You pulled back slightly, still wrapped in his arms. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something deeper, something raw.

“I care about you.”

The words settled between you, gentle yet earth-shattering. And for the first time in his existence, Pinocchio felt something break inside him, something old and hollow, something he no longer needed.

Before you could react, his hands shifted—one sliding to the back of your neck, the other anchoring you against him. And then, with a desperate, quiet reverence, he kissed you.

It was not hesitant. It was not cautious. It was a confession, a plea, an unspoken promise.

His lips were cold, but his touch burned. He kissed you as if he would unravel without you, as if you were the only tether keeping him from falling apart. And in that moment, you knew—you were his, as much as he was yours.

When he pulled away, your breath was stolen, your lips tingling from the intensity. He studied you, as if memorizing the way you looked. Dazed, flushed, lips slightly swollen from his kiss.

Then, without a word, you lifted his Legion hand, pressing a kiss to its palm before resting it against your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered.

He didn’t. He only kissed you again.

And again.

And again.

The night stretched on, endless and quiet, as he lost himself in you, in the feeling of finally—finally—being something more than a mere puppet.

Being yours.

heyyy i'm alivee ahaha... i lowkey hate this i wrote it at like 3 am yesterday i definitely didn't buy bloodborne the other day because of this game no what who me-

also i was listening to hearing damage while writing this so that explains that one line

[madridfangirl]

I'm taking you home NOW!

Blurb from Part 2 (final part). Part one here.

Smut. Jude*female reader.

.......................................................................

She hung up. Jude couldn’t believe she hung up on him.

He stared at his phone, then at her through the glass, then back at his phone.

Boy, was he going to make her pay.

Ananya realised that wasn’t a very smart move but he had completely thrown her off-guard. Between fight or flight, her instincts went with the latter. She could feel his gaze on her as she walked back to her table, the intensity burning her skin even through the distance and glass divider. She didn’t dare to look in that direction and sat down with her back to him.

Jude stayed there for a few seconds, half-inclined to walk down there right now and make good on his threat. But if he did that, sex would be off the table tonight. His parents / team would get a heart attack from the scandal he would have caused. And Ananya - oh she would strangulate him with her bare tiny hands.

Grudgingly, he dragged himself back to his teammates. Brahim elbowed him as soon as he sat down, telling him he was being too plain. Just that, the rest of the guys were pissed drunk already and hadn’t noticed. Jude couldn’t get himself to care. His thoughts were elsewhere.

Ananya knew he wouldn’t just let it go. And she was proven right 5 mins later when her phone buzzed. 

It was a picture with him, Cama, Vini and three waitresses. Two of them were on either side of Jude, their arms around his back and his around theirs. Both leaning against him, a little too close, looking all giddy and infatuated. The typical reaction he invoked in girls.

She started at her screen, open-mouthed, at his obvious attempt to rile her up. No, she won’t give him the satisfaction. She watched her tone carefully before texting him back.

Ananya: ??

Jude: Sent by mistake. Was sending to one of the girls.

Please, like she was born yesterday.

Jude: They didn’t have their phone on them so I took from mine & sending over. To the one on my right.

So, Jude had her number and she had Jude’s. 

Ananya: How sweet.

The girl was pretty. A classic petite, sexy Spanish brunette. A high-end waitress for the VIP section of one of the most posh clubs in Madrid. In her tight-fitted top & mini-skirt. Ananya knew from first-hand experience how Jude had a fetish for such uniforms. 

Jude: Yeah she’s over the moon. Thanking me non-stop.

She groaned. The boy was smart, talking in insinuations so she couldn’t hold anything over his head. So he doesn’t lose the moral high-ground he had right now. So he could always say later ‘oh it was just a nice thing I did for my fans.’ 

The fucker. The absolute shrewd twat. 

It had taken him all of 5 mins to swing this. The girl was probably touching his arm right now, trying to get his attention in her barely there attire. Batting her lashes, smiling extra hard. Reserving special service for him. Ready to drop her knickers at his one look. 

Her friend probably wanted to join in too. Both in a frenzy over how sweet he was being. Trying to score with the hottest property in football right now (literally & figuratively), who was drunk (ergo unreserved) and looked like an absolute meal tonight. 

This happened all too often with him. Offers for quickies in washrooms / hook-ups / one-night stands tended to pour in for him freely. Jude would tell her every time someone hit on him so explicitly or proposition him so openly. It was an unspoken understanding between them, something that gave her comfort.

Usually, he would nip these things in the bud, not providing any encouragement. But tonight, would he indulge a bit? To get back at her for her supposed flirting?

..........................................................................

Here you go. Thought of dropping something before the full thing is done :)

[thefrogdalorian]

My Pain Fits In The Palm Of Your Freezing Hand

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: When you and your Mandalorian companion are ambushed by a group of bandits, you hope that his stubborn nature will not make the task of treating his wounds any more difficult than it needs to be. But that is not the only obstacle. You also hope that the depth of your unrequited feelings for Din will not impact on your ability to care for him...

Word Count:  2.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Canon typical violence briefly described, reader provides first-aid to minor, bloody injuries. ✯ Author's Note: A daydream about holding the stubborn tin can man's hand turned into whatever this is!! I've never written unrequited feelings for Din before but it made my heart ache in the best possible way. Hope you enjoyed!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

Once the adrenaline of your latest brush with death subsides, your focus immediately pivots to caring for your Mandalorian companion. Although the heightened emotions leaving your body render you a trembling, shaky mess, your priority is to ensure his well-being. Maker knows he will never take care of himself.

As you approach the Razor Crest, you mentally scan yourself for painful areas. Casting your mind back towards the encounter as you try to recall anywhere you could have been hurt. After all, you will struggle to assist him if you are not healthy.

You recall that you had taken a couple of painful blows to the side during the skirmish, but your clumsy assailants had fortunately missed all of your vital organs. Aside from a pounding heart and dry mouth, you have mercifully made it through the ambush unscathed. 

Satisfied that there are no immediate areas of concern to treat, you turn your attention towards Din. You cast your mind back over the altercation, towards any wounds he may have sustained. It is easier said than done, considering how many of them leapt out of nowhere and caught the two of you off-guard as you walked through the thick forest towards the ship.

You remember how many of them Din fought off with his bare hands. Well, through his gloves. Still, you know they will have provided scant protection, so you are keen to check them for injuries. 

You momentarily struggle to remember what happened after Din had seen most of them off as you crouched behind a bush, hiding. 

Then, you recall how one of your assailants had slashed at Din’s hands when he grabbed the remaining pair of them around the throat. It had been a frenzied attack, which momentarily worked as his grip loosened. Just when you had feared that all hope was lost and they were going to escape, Din brought his boot up to deliver a swift kick in the stomach to the slower of the duo, which sent them careening into each other.

Din had used many parts of his body, as well as all of his wits and expertise as a warrior to see your attackers off. He had done a formidable job, considering how much they had taken you by surprise.

Still, the state of his hands concern you.

You are pretty sure they sustained the most severe damage. Plus, as they are vitally important for everyday function, treating them takes priority.

It is settled... Din’s hands are the first area you will treat. 

If he will let you, that is.

Your Mandalorian companion does not possess a reputation for being the easiest man in the galaxy to take care of... a willing patient, Din Djarin is not.

As the two of you ascend the ramp up to his beloved ship, you hope for both of your sakes that he makes this process as painless as possible.

“Din, sit down and let me get the medkit,” you order when you finally enter the familiar old ship's hull. 

“Let me initiate the launch sequence first,” Din stubbornly responds.

“No,” you reply, shaking your head as you fold your arms, glaring at him.

“Fine,” Din mutters in annoyance. 

It seems your sternness has done the trick. 

Din perches atop a crate as you grab the medkit in preparation to treat his wounds. You hope he does not make it harder for you than necessary. Din has never made any secret that he is comfortable being fussed over. You are no stranger to the fact that he hates being taken care of like this, but if you do not tend to his wounds, you know he will never do so himself. 

“Your gloves,” you nod towards the two-toned leather which covers his hands, “Take them off, Din.”

Din sighs and lifts his gloves beneath his helmet, seemingly biting at each finger to loosen them before repeating the process with his other hand. You feel like a voyeur and wonder whether you should turn your head and look away, as though his gloved hand disappearing beneath his helmet is somehow sacrilegious. Despite your inner turmoil, you cannot help but watch, unable to tear your gaze away until finally, he slides the gloves off and bares his flesh to you. 

It is not the first time Din has removed his gloves in your presence, yet you still feel a thrill travelling across your body at the faintest sight of his skin. 

For Din Djarin’s bare hands provide you with the tiniest peek at the man that lies beneath the cold, hard beskar. To catch a glimpse of the human side of the formidable warrior, the side of him you yearn to know entirely.

You remember how stunned you had been the first time he had removed his gloves in your presence while he was repairing a blaster several months ago. 

You had been sitting elsewhere in the hull as he worked at the bench, tools spread out as he dutifully performed much-needed maintenance on one of his many beloved weapons.

A grunt of frustration indicated that the parts had been far too intricate to repair with his cumbersome gloves. So, he had pulled on each finger one by one, tugging them off. Seemingly uncaring about baring himself, even ever so slightly, in your presence.

You had tried your best not to look, but you had been unable to resist sneaking a glance at who he was underneath his armour. Although for the most part, you kept to yourselves, there was no lingering frostiness in your dynamic. You and Din were amicable, possibly even friends... if he could even have such a thing.

That day, you watched as his hands meticulously repaired his blaster. You noticed the smattering of dark hairs across the back of his hand, the surprisingly tanned skin and the calluses and scars which littered the back of his hand. It was a fascinating glimpse into the man who hid so much of himself from you, yet you still felt you knew enough about him to believe he was, deep down, a good man.

Your mind ran wild with so many questions. Was his skin a similar colour elsewhere on his body, or was it tanned because his hands were the only parts of him that saw the sun? Did the dark hairs on the back of his hand mean that the hair on his head–if he had any–was a similar colour?

They were questions you knew you would likely never get answers to. Nor did you expect to.

When Din had hired you to care for The Child and attend to maintenance on his ship, he had informed you of the rules regarding his armour and helmet. He would remove neither his helmet nor armour in your presence. You were never to question the reasons why or attempt to subvert this stipulation in any way.

That was why glimpsing a sliver of his skin had thrilled you. It had exposed the man you had been yearning to see in a way that was not a violation of his Creed.

Yet, when you see his hands this time the circumstances could not be more different. Neither could the emotions Din’s bare hands provoke in you. 

Rather than feeling a thrill at the sight of his skin, now you cringe when you see the wounds that litter his flesh. His knuckles are split and bloodied, contusions that will surely colour shades of blue and black before eventually healing. There are also angry red gashes in all directions, a result of the bandit’s vibroblade making contact with his hands. 

You steady yourself, mentally preparing for the gargantuan task of providing first aid to a stubborn Mandalorian. Din values all you do for him. You are certain of that fact, even if he does not often vocalise it. Still, having someone take care of him is an uncomfortable prospect for a man who has spent so long leading a solitary, nomadic existence.

When you finally take his calloused, yet soft, skin in your hand, Din sucks in a harsh breath at the sensation. The sound is amplified and crackles slightly through the vocoder. A reminder that, although he has bared some of himself, he is still mostly hidden from you. He feels like more machine than man sometimes.

You take a bacta wipe from your medkit, and the antiseptic’s sour smell lingers unpleasantly in the air. You hold Din’s hand still, as you carefully bring the wipe towards his skin, your brow furrowed in concentration. 

“This is going to sting,” you murmur apologetically. 

Din nods. You hear him inhale deeply as he braces for the first contact with the remedy. You prepare yourself to be as gentle as possible, not wanting to make the process needlessly painful for him. 

At the first touch of the bacta wipe against his bronze skin, he jerks away from your touch, groaning slightly in pain at what you are sure is an uncomfortable, stinging sensation against his cuts.

“Hold still,” you sigh, flashing a disapproving glance in what you hope is the direction of Din’s eyes, hidden by his helmet. 

“Sorry,” he huffs.

You cannot help how your lips curl upwards at the sight of him sulking. This hulking man, all broad shoulders and gleaming beskar, reduced to a wounded child. You wonder if he is pouting beneath his helmet.

Din flinches again when you resume your task, but this time, you do not chastise him. Instead, you are thankful that he is not making this any more difficult than it needs to be. 

At least he has not told you he can look after himself. 

Content with his behaviour, you diligently tend to Din’s wounds. You ensure each one is cleaned thoroughly with the bacta patch and then wrapped in a bandage. It will take a few days to heal, but he will have plenty of time as you hurtle through hyperspace towards Nevarro again. Unfortunately, it will mean he likely has to refrain from being the hands-on father you know he loves to be. 

When your task is almost complete, you move to sit by his side on the crate. You need to steady your hands by placing your elbows against your thighs as you wrap a particularly nasty wound, which already streaks angry red tendrils across two knuckles. 

Din groans again in pain, and you quickly reassure him, “Almost there,” you whisper encouragingly. 

With the task finally completed, you cannot resist gently taking his hand in yours. Ostensibly, to check him for any wounds you have missed. In reality, it is borne out of a selfish desire to feel his skin against yours. Precious contact you had been yearning for since you first laid eyes upon his skin all those months ago. 

If Din notices the way you subtly lace your fingers with his and hold his hand in your lap for a few moments longer than necessary, he does not say a thing. Only when you disentangle your fingers from his grip does he speak again.

When you move to stand up from the crate, he places his arm across your stomach to stop you. You look at him questioningly, wondering what is going on beneath that bucket of metal. 

“Thank you,” Din finally whispers, voice thick with emotion.

You move to open your mouth, to respond. Before you can, Din’s deep voice cuts through the stillness.

“For everything… I…” Din pauses, sighs deeply, then continues, “I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You simply nod, too taken aback to speak. It is unlike Din to be sentimental or emotional, not with anyone other than Grogu. It is part of what makes him such a respected and feared hunter. Yet, here he is, confessing his appreciation for you. It causes hotness to creep up your neck and face, embarrassed by his earnestness. Desperate to respond, but not entirely trusting that you can keep it together. 

“You’re worth it, Din,” you smile, daring to believe that this moment will change something for the two of you. You hope he will finally realise the depth of the feelings you hold for him; that you have always held for him. 

As you take his hand in yours once again, you sit back on the crate. You take up a more comfortable position and daringly lean your head against his shoulder. The pauldron is bitingly cold beneath your cheek. But with how warm your skin suddenly feels at his words, it is an altogether welcome sensation.

Din noticeably inhales at your gesture, and you momentarily fear you have hurt his tender skin. Until he relaxes once again and squeezes your hand as best as he can considering his injuries, a reassuring gesture that soothes your worries.

As you sit there holding hands in the relative darkness of the hull, you imagine a shooting star passing somewhere far in the skies above.

You wish on it and dare to dream that, one day, Din Djarin will love you, too.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Ah, thank god <33

Since I don't have the balls to write this myself -- what about the bros with a very flirtatious reader-? One that just teases them non-stop throughout the whole day, and the bros punish them for it-?

(Ik this is a rlly boring idea but AKSKDKSNS)

First of all, it's not boring AT ALL! Do you know how much I love it when MC takes charge??? And this right here???!!! THIS IS GOLDEN HEHEHE! We need more confident flirty representation okay!!

No Rest for the Loving

Seriously you could be the biggest tease in all three realms. They thought they had seen everything with Asmo, but lo and behold, came along you. It was quite literally, getting harder to live with you in the same house. But there's only so much they can hold back until their patience runs out.

Lucifer face palms as you take a seat on his lap, offering to 'help with paperwork'. You've not even shifted yet, but he's already stimulated - knowing your cheeky tricks. And the fact that you've been constantly doing it the entire day. First in the meeting room and now in his room.

"You look extra tired. Look at all the lines on your forehead." You hold his face tenderly, pretending to kiss it better. "Ahaha, you look so much better when you're flushed red."

"Hmph, is that so?" Lucifer glanced up towards his door to see if it was locked. "In that case, you might look better like this." Papers flew and pens and quills scattered and fell off the desk as he placed you on it and laid you down.

You brace yourself as he grinds against you mercilessly. You throw your head back when you're almost at your climax and then he pulls back. You groan into your hands because you know he won't be relieving you for a while.

Mammon grumbled under his breath as he hung from the ceiling, waiting for you to stop laughing. "Are ya done laughing your head off yet? Can you get me down already?"

"Oh come on, you're asking me to go against Lucifer's orders to keep you like this, atleast let me have my fun won't you?" You cooed, running a finger down his chiselled abs exposed from hanging upside down.

"Oi! I told you to stop that! This is the fourth time! What's with you and my stomach anyway?!" He blushed furiously, his skin on fire from your fingers.

"I just like how it feels." You answered cheekily, as you untied him from the ropes. "Now there, all done. Now we're even."

"No..." You were about to leave when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, the other hand cupping your bottom. Squeezing and groping it as he pleased, it sent electricity up your spine. "We'll be even after I'm done with my turn."

"Ack! There's no way! I can't possibly win against you!" Leviathan said as he lost another round of the staring contest with you. "Also is it really okay for you to sit there and have an ice cream during this?!"

"What's wrong with the ice cream, I got you the Ruri one in your favourite flavour too didn't I?" You said, deliberately making a big show of eating the stick of ice cream in a erotic way. "My, my what are you imagining in that head of yours, Levi?"

Levi turned even redder at the accusation. Oh shit. Had you caught him staring at your tongue the whole time? "I'm not imagining anything! And besides you..." He racked his brain for a good one liner, inspireed by his many romance novels."Besides you couldn't handle me anyway!"

"Oh, do you want a tongue-off to put it to the test?" You regretted suggesting that seconds later. Now your endless moans were muffled by his long forked tongue invading your mouth. You tried to surrender the fight, grabbing his shirt in fistfuls, but he only shoved his tongue deeper inside in crazed frenzy, holding you firmly in place. This wasn't a fight you could ever win as his tail entered the picture too

Satan was trying so hard to hide how flustered he was. "MC, this is just getting silly now." He said trying very hard not to start gazing down at you just sitting on the floor, between his legs, head resting on his thigh. The cat ears on your head didn't help either.

"But I'm not even doing anything." You said with mock innocence, as if you hadn't made a show of crawling to him on all fours and plopped your head dangerously close to his growing arousal. "Oh, am I to blame for this?"

You turned around and grazed your hand on his crotch. He grabbed your wrist but didn't push your hand away. "Oh my, you could totally mess up my insides with this. If you know how to use it of course."

"Sure, I'll show you what I can do if you can put that pretty little mouth to use." You tried very hard to be confident but it all went down the drain now that you whimpered with his length hitting the back of your throat. He was determined not to let you walk for the next few days.

Outdoing Asmo in terms of teasing was no easy feat, but you managed it anyway. You combined his love for fashion and you very efficiently by wearing the most enticing thing you could find in his wardrobe.

All he had to do was walk in and see you sprawled on his bed, fidgeting with your phone. He gasped, dropping his many shopping bags - an impatient frenzy in his eyes.

"It seems you really like what you see." You chuckled at the obvious reaction his pants were too tight to hide. Within seconds he was on top of you, leaving lipstick stains over your exposed skin and somehow skillfully fucking you with the outfit still on. It was after the first 8 rounds you realised what a mistake you'd made.

"Oh no MC, don't drift off just yet! There's a few more outfits I'd like to fuck you in." He said, pulling you onto his lap. Your head lulled to the side, resting on his shoulder. What the hell were you thinking tempting the Avatar of Lust?

The one thing you learnt about the twins is that you cannot tempt them while they are in the same room. Whether they take turns or tag team to pleasure you, you are always unable to function properly for the next few days.

Belphie takes his revenge by lazily thrusting inside you, constantly dangling you over the edge of your release.

You beg and plead but he doesn't increase his speed until the very end, where even his hands add to the party. "See how easy it is to turn the tables on you? You thought I'd let you go easy after how grinded against me in the crowded bus?"

Beel goes quiet, even apologetic right before he goes feral. As if he knows exactly how badly he's going to ruin you.

The thing about the way he overstimulates you with tongue is that you can't tell if he's being deliberate or if his hunger is just that intense. And you never ever know when he's going to be full. "I'm sorry MC, one last time I promise...it's hard to resist your taste... especially since you offered..."