#'Tenderness' made me think of them.......

[pucksandpower]

Make Them Proud

Charles Leclerc x Bianchi!Reader

Summary: Charles can’t help but thinking of those he lost after finally claiming victory at his home race

The sheets are tangled around your legs as you trace lazy patterns across Charles’ bare chest. His breathing is deep and steady, but you can tell from the crinkle between his eyebrows that his mind is racing. A small smile plays across your lips as you watch the moonlight cast shadows along the contours of his face.

“You want to say something,” you murmur, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I can tell.”

Charles opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times before focusing on you. A tender expression softens his features as he gazes at you.

“How did you know?” He asks, his voice low and rumbly from sleep.

You shrug one shoulder. “Call it a girlfriend’s intuition.”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I should know better than to try and hide anything from you.”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you raise an inquisitive eyebrow. “Well? What’s on your mind, mister race winner?”

A myriad of emotions flicker across Charles’ face — pride, awe, a hint of melancholy. He worries his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before speaking.

“I was just thinking about Jules. And Papa,” he admits quietly. “Wondering if … if I made them proud today.”

The vulnerability in his voice causes a lump to form in your throat. You reach out, cupping his cheek in your palm as his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Charles ...” you breathe out his name like a prayer. “Of course you made them proud. How could you even doubt that?”

He lets out a shaky exhale, leaning into your touch. “I know, I just … it means so much to me, you know? Racing for them, honoring their memories.”

Nodding slowly, you shift until you’re lying with your head on his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you.

“They know that, mon cœur,” you soothe. “They know how much today meant to you, how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed. They’re so incredibly proud of the man you’ve become.”

Charles wraps his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your hair. You can feel the tension slowly melting from his body as he draws strength from your embrace.

“You’re right,” he finally mumbles against your temple. “I know you’re right. It’s just … sometimes the pressure feels so immense, you know? Like the weight of their legacies is on my shoulders.”

Pulling back, you frame his face with your hands, forcing him to meet your earnest gaze.

“Charles Leclerc, you listen to me,” you state firmly. “Jules and Hervé loved you so much, their pride in you had nothing to do with racing. They adored you for the incredible man you have always been — your kindness, your passion, your heart.”

You lean in, resting your forehead against his as you choose your next words carefully.

“While I know they would be honored that you race for them, carrying on their legacies … I also know they’d want you to race for yourself. For the pure love of the sport that burns within you.”

Charles’ breath hitches, his eyes glistening with fresh tears. You smooth the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone, willing him to understand the depth of your conviction.

“You don’t have to prove anything to them, mon amour. Just being your amazing self is enough to make them proud every single day.”

A tremulous smile curves Charles’ lips as the tears finally spill over, tracking glistening paths down his cheeks. He surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss filled with every ounce of love, gratitude and adoration he feels for you in that moment. You melt into him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you return the kiss with fervent passion.

When you finally break apart, breathless and giddy, Charles gazes at you with an expression of pure wonder.

“How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs reverently. “To have someone like you in my life, who understands me so completely?”

You let out a teasing laugh, booping his nose lightly with your fingertip. “Years of practice, Leclerc. Years of practice.”

Chuckling, he pulls you back against his chest, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. You snuggle impossibly closer, relishing in the heat of his embrace.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “For everything. For being my rock, my voice of reason … my home.”

You press a soft kiss over his wildly beating heart in acknowledgment. No words are needed — you both understand the depths of your connection, the invisible cord that binds your souls together.

As you lay there, tangled in his arms while the first rays of dawn creep through the curtains, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. The roar of the crowds, the scream of the engines, the flashing lights of the cameras — it all fades into blessed silence.

In this moment, cocooned in your own private world, there is only Charles. Your brave, sensitive, extraordinary Charles. And he is yours, just as you are utterly and completely his.

Tomorrow, the whirlwind will begin again. But tonight … tonight is just for the two of you. Two hearts, bound by the most precious and unbreakable of ties — love.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc #cl16 #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc blurb #monaco gp 2024 #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #scuderia ferrari #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc drabble

[mooncrestedwaters]

Been thinking about Rafayel and how he shows his love (especially after his newest card trailer).

On the surface, Rafayel seems like he's an open book. He's witty, affectionate, chatty ect ect

But once you dig deeper you realise that he's that way...but only with the person he loves. He's actually quite reserved and doesn't enjoy being the center of attention, even going so far to say his job is a thing of self expression rather than something he actively strives to make money off of.

With the upcoming new 5* card of Rafayel's, I wasn't shocked that we didn't have a kiss or one where he tried to kiss us (and tbh his sweeter form of affection in wanting to cuddle us and snuggle into our neck made my tummy do flips and had me having a near breakdown from how much it made me gooey)

I feel like Rafayel is a yearner to his core, even his interviewer noted as much that he gave an air of 'romance' to him.

The best way I can describe it is; His love is like his profession and his EVOL.

Art takes time, it takes an observant eye and mind. I've grown up with artists my entire life and to make a painting is much more than slapping some acrylics onto a board and calling it a day. It takes tempering, to prepare the board, to build up layers upon the canvas to correct any mistakes without an eraser or undo button.

It's gentle, tending to the whims of the canvas to make a happy compromise of your own.

Onto his EVOL, Rafayel treats a relationship like a firepit. He wants it to have longevity, keeping himself and the fire alight. So instead of chucking a log onto the firepit he nourishes it with kindling, giving it a poke here and here to check on its status while being warmed by the flames.

Rafayel is also horrifically traumatised from previous encounters with love.

Think of it this way;

He was a Prince. Set to be throned as a King and live with his beloved forever.

He set out to find a devout follower to sacrifice their heart to him in turn found himself giving them his own heart and betraying everything because he wouldn't let a pre-destined prophecy rule himself or his beloved.

When he got his love back, in another timeline they were brainwashed and ended up killing him. The absolute agony you must go through, to be maliciously murdered and know that it's by the person you love but not their intention to do so and in your last breath you grant them mercy to die alongside you by singing them to death.

Moving onto Abysswalker Rafayel, the weight of being told you have to kill your love to resurrect your hometown, taking the love of your life on a wondrous journey to know you have to kill them in the end and instead erasing their memories of you permanently to protect them and keep them alive, rewriting a tome for their sake and thus dooming his beloved kingdom and people to be tormented for eternity of his peoples damned screams of death and agony.

Do you ever wonder if he has sat with himself and laminated over this horrifying fall from grace?

Yet he still does it, for them.

After ruminating over this; I wouldn't be as forward as the other LI either.

I think Rafayel is immaculately brave and loyal for even trying again, for still searching for his beloved over years and years.

He has his insecurities, they show when he gets bratty or needy. Quipping at his beloved for not having their sole attention on him, he's meant to be worshipped after all, doted on, praised for having put in so much effort.

Alas, his love doesn't remember, doesn't see the accumulation of sacrifices and things hes done for them.

So he hints, he prods and pokes gently and he starts having them warm up to him again. Braving a tender word here, a lovingly gentle touch there and moving up and forward until he can see that his beloved has fallen in love with him again.

Rafayel is a love that doesn't burn bright, it burns with stability, it burns with loyalty, it burns with truth and gentle care. He would never want to scorch his love.

Rafayel makes accommodations for them, weaving them into his life in any way, if that may be employing them to inviting them on little excursions. Even keeping a watchful eye over them, noticing when they're in need, hurt or just simply making his presence known as a comfortable 'You can come to me'.

He's a gentleman, a romantic...with a little edge (Rafayel audios I'm looking at you, hard)

Anyways, I should not drink copious amounts of caffeine within a short allotment of time. I hope my ramblings have been enjoyable 🤍🪽

#love and deepspace #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #love & deepspace #rafayel girlie #lads rafayel #mc love and deepspace #mc x rafayel #rafayel x mc

[drabblesandsnippets]

Drabble #5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Continuation of Drabble #2 and #3

Summary: After making his girlfriend ride his face, Bucky slows things down, despite her obvious need for more.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Domination. Teasing. Masturbation. 

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

Bucky barely lets her recover before he’s rolling them over, settling on top of her, letting her feel how hard she makes him. He swears he’s been hard and aching for her since she left for her trip, no amount of fantasizing about her able to give him any sort of relief. So now that she’s finally home, where she belongs, he’s not letting her out of his sight anytime soon.

She’s still sensitive from her orgasm, but she doesn’t care. She’s desperate to feel him inside of her after spending weeks apart and she moans against his mouth, eagerly meeting him in a passionate kiss, grinding herself against him, her body trembling underneath him. He’s already made her come twice - once by her own hand in the backseat of his car on their way home, and then again with his mouth - and all she can think about is having his cock inside of her, fucking her until she’s sore.

But he’s still refusing to let her touch him, and she lets out a whine of frustration when his fingers quickly wrap around her wrist to stop her from freeing his cock from his underwear. Before she can protest, he pulls back and looks down at her, their bodies still flush, moving slowly against each other, making her breath hitch.

“I missed you so much,” he tells her, letting go of her hand to run his fingers along her jaw, taking in all the subtle reactions to his touch. The flutter of her eyelashes, the slight twitch of her hips, the pulse of arousal he feels against his cock. “Missed everything about you,” he murmurs, closing the distance once again to kiss her, his lips brushing across hers before moving along her cheek.

Bucky’s tenderness is a stark contrast to what her body is craving right now. He’s supposed to be fucking her senseless, making her forget her own name. It’s been weeks of promises and playful threats of what he was going to do to her once she got home. But, now he’s teasing her, driving her wild, and she’s already past the point of wanting to beg.

He can read her so easily, and just as her mouth opens, he wraps his hand around her throat, silencing her, reminding her who’s in charge - in charge of her, her body, her pleasure. Bucky groans at the expected reaction, her hips lifting, seeking out more friction, but it doesn’t deter him. “Shhh,” he tells her, a soft smile on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing to her. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for weeks, Princess. Don’t rush me.”

She whines softly, the tone of his voice sending a burst of pleasure straight to her clit, and for a brief moment she considers pushing back. The inner brat in her wanting to come out to play. But, that’ll only prolong his teasing - something she definitely can’t handle right now.

Bucky watches as she forces herself to breathe slowly and he immediately rewards her, grinding himself harder against her pussy, the length of his cock sliding along her clit. “Good girl.” Her appreciative moan is met with one of his own and it takes everything in him not to reach down to remove the last bit of clothing separating them, wanting to finally feel her wrapped around him. 

Instead, he gives her one last kiss, his tongue slowly sliding along hers as his fingers possessively twitch against her neck. Then he suddenly pulls away, the loss of him making her gasp, a look of confusion crossing her face as she watches him climb off the edge of the bed. Without thinking, she quickly starts to sit up, reaching out for him, but then he’s shaking his head at her, the grin on his face growing, “Uh uh. Stay there.” 

She complies without hesitation, her body buzzing with pleasure at his order, letting herself fall backwards, but not without groaning softly in frustration. How can he be so calm when she feels like she’s being driven insane with lust. Bucky laughs, still shaking his head at her. She has no idea how hard it is for him not to crawl back on that bed and give her exactly what she wants. 

His entire body is tense with need, his thoughts consumed with how good she feels, but it’s been so long, and he knows the moment he buries himself inside of her, he’s not going to last long. He needs more time to appreciate her, to worship her, to show her just how much he missed her.

Bucky watches her from the foot of the bed, an audible groan leaving him when she spreads her legs wider, trying to entice him, letting him see just how wet she is. All for him. The smile on his face fades slightly and his eyes darken as he reaches to remove his underwear, finally letting his cock spring free, the head slick with his arousal. 

Just as his hand wraps around his thick shaft, he groans in pleasure, telling her, “Touch yourself for me.” His vibranium hand reaches out to grab the corner post of the bed, steadying himself when she does exactly as she’s told. One hand playing with her tits, pinching her nipple, while her other hand settles between her thighs, her fingers working over her clit quickly. 

While his eyes roam over her entire body, enjoying the view of her delicious pussy, her beautiful breasts, her flushed face, her own gaze drifts to his cock. She can’t tear her eyes away, watching as his hand makes lazy strokes, the sight of him so hard for her quickly building her towards another orgasm. 

But, she doesn’t want to come again, not without his cock inside of her. She doesn’t fight it yet though, allowing herself to get closer to the edge, Bucky talking her through it, his voice rough with desire, his own hand occasionally pausing to stave off his own orgasm. And just when her body starts to tense, her breath quick and uneven, she arches her back and whines his name, begging him to fuck her.

Bucky’s hand grips the bedpost almost hard enough to break it, the sound of his name making his balls tighten, pleasure shooting up his spine. “Fuck,” he groans, his body moving on its own accord, joining her on the bed to kneel between her thighs before he even realizes it. She begs him again, pleading with him to please fuck her, to make her come on his cock. And for just a moment, he considers giving in.

But then his hand reaches out to grab her throat again, pinning her to the bed, the look on his face telling her she’s misbehaving. “I thought I told you not to rush me,” he growls, raising his brow at her, the slight twitch of her body causing his fingers to tighten slightly. “Keep it up and the only hole I’ll be fucking tonight is that pretty mouth of yours.”

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Part 1

Part 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky smut #sebastian stan

[lovemebitxh]

Okay, let me just say this because I don't think some people fully understand just how important this season and these two specific characters, are for some of us.

I think the main reason why this season has had such a huge success is because this one, like Nicola said herself, is for the wallflowers.

This season is for all of us who can see ourselves in either Colin or Pen or both. It's for those of us who spent half our lives feeling invisible, never good enough, or pretty enough or funny or smart enough, just never enough. For those of us, who prefer to lose ourselves in a book because real life and real feelings are just too hard to deal with sometimes. For those of us who convinced ourselves that no one will ever truly see and understand us and love us for who we are, so we obsess over fictional characters and their love stories and just imagine what it would feel like to be loved like that. For those of us, who never know what to say and feel so awkward after taking part in a conversation we didn't have time to prepare for. For those of us who always feel inadequate and uncomfortable in our own skin, who take every compliment as a joke and who constantly wonder at the back of our mind if people are just making fun of us when they're being nice. This season is for those of us who felt we had to hide, repress or destroy any part of us that made us seem weak or weird, just so we could mold ourselves into whatever people needed or wanted us to be. It's for those of us who learnt that you will only be good enough when everyone likes you and have spent our lives trying to make everyone happy, always thinking of how our actions and our words are perceived and worring about making a good impression. This season is for those of us who never quite felt like we really belonged anywhere, so we tried to escape from people and places only to realize that what we were actually trying to escape from all along, was ourselves and what we were feeling.

This season is for the losers, the awkward ones, the invisible ones, the hurt ones who keep a mask on, because no one told them it was okay to take it off. The nerds, the wallflowers, the ousiders. This season is for us. And that's why it's resonating with so many people. Because it means so, so much to see someone like yourself, represented in media; and not only that, but also seeing these chracters grow and step out of their comfort zone, becoming more confident, accepting their own flaws and each other's and falling in love and being loved back; finally being soft and tender and being seen and understood and cared for, after feeling so lost for so long. It means the world.

And all I can say is: I hope we learn to just let ourselves be, someday, just like they did.

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #polin #bridgerton s3 #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #nicola coughlan #luke newton

[kuro4thegays]

- Steam

[Word count: 3.2k] [Dr. Ratio x male!reader] [Content: nsfw, top Veritas, bottom reader, hot spring date, just the slightest bit of angst, misunderstandings, reader may be depressed, but also a bit silly at times, massages, anal fingering, lots of steam, spanking, orgasm denial, anal, love bites]

“Why do you cover yourself even when no one is watching?” The words echoed inside your mind, bubbling up like their only purpose was tormenting you. You wrapped that soft towel around your body like a shield, all while setting your feet down into the steamy water.

You sighed, rubbing your cold shoulders. The towel was the only thing keeping your upper body somewhat of a regular temperature. You looked down into your own reflection, silently judging the face that greeted you in the water. Well, greet wasn't a very precise term. Your reflection only mimicked the same judgmental look you gave it, yet there was something in the back of your head that forced you to keep looking. Hatred always had its way with you.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I hope you didn't get too bored without me.” That warm, familiar voice stole your attention like it meant nothing. You raised your gaze back to reality. There he was, Veritas Ratio, the man that striped your heart right out of your chest and now just won't give it back.

“It’s really no issue.” You averted your gaze, seeing the doctor in general made your heart race, but God, you don’t think you can handle looking at his bare figure, only slightly concealed by that towel he wore around his waist. “I can wait. It's really fine.” Perhaps there was something more you wanted to say, yet ultimately chose silence. 

"No, no it's my fault. I don't want such a brilliant mind to waste its time just on waiting." Veritas joined you on the edge of the hot spring. Was he just trying to fluster you with those words? Regardless, you returned your sights back onto the water's surface. Too bad that even there he couldn't avoid his face.

"Shall we? You must feel cold by now." His hand found its way to that small exposed bit of your back, causing you to immediately straighten your posture. One can imagine that while enveloped within the cold breeze Veritas' touch would feel twice as hot.

"Mm... Yeah." You answered, finally taking a chance to gaze into the doctor's eyes. "I think I'm ready.”

Veritas unwrapped the towel from your body, exposing your figure to the warm waters. Just like that, he nodded and gave you an encouraging push, not enough for you to fall into the water, but enough to lead you into its inviting warmth. Finally, coaxed by Veritas' gentle touch, you pushed yourself off the edge and into the hot spring.

“Ah, feels nice, doesn’t it?” The professor sighed, stretching his muscular back before leaning back onto the rocky surface behind him. Almost like inviting you over, he tapped the spot next to himself.”It’s not bad.” Upon request you joined him, leaning down until the water reached your neck.

“Are you feeling okay? You seemed kind of out of it just a moment ago.” He dared to bring up the difficult questions, gently rubbing your waist under the water.”Do you wish to talk about it…or maybe something more physical is what you need?” He affectionately nuzzled  your neck, the warmth of his being rivaling that of the hot spring itself. How could he caress you so lovingly, you couldn’t help but wonder. Almost like on instinct you leaned back into the warm touch, craving it more with each passing moment. You were ready for it to be taken away at any second.

“Yes, please.” The words came out more desperately than you had planned them to. Uncertain would be a fitting description.

“Would a massage suffice?” Veritas’ hands slid all the way from your waist up to your shoulders, guiding you to the edge where you could lean for support. “Maybe it wouldn’t have come to this if you had listened to me when I told you to take a break.” But it wouldn’t be Veritas if his tender touches weren’t mixed with a heavy dose of scolding. “But you just had to continue on with your stubborn ways.”

“You just love being correct, don’t you?” Without thinking you spouted your retort. Your shoulders tensed only slightly, yet that alone told Veritas enough.

“Oh, believe me. In this case I really wish I wasn’t.” He trapped your smaller frame against the cool edge of the lake using his larger body, making it so that you weren’t able to escape the situation like you had many times before.”You-” “I’m not done talking.” Veritas shushed you with ease. Now the only thing separating you was the water's gentle embrace. “Are you aware of how much energy I spend just thinking and worrying about you? How many nights I have spent awake because of your idiocy?” He didn’t let go even when you tried to avert your gaze, no, he got even closer. “You can’t even imagine how much it hurts when you do these stupid things to yourself. And can’t you at least look at me when I’m talking to you?”

Veritas’ voice finally did something to earn your attention back, even if only for a moment. Your eyes looked into his for maybe a millisecond before the doctor tried to get closer, causing you to ultimately close them shut yet again. Only then did it hit Veritas in the head how he must have sounded like. “Hey, [name], I… I didn’t mean it like that. I just feel like…” The genius was so quickly reduced to a stuttering mess at the sight of his love in fear. Words managed to fail him like they never did, so he shut his mouth and tried a different approach.

“Veritas-” You gasped upon contact, pulled down into the water’s warmth until not even your shoulders were exposed to the cool breeze. Veritas held you tight, his grip not lacking in either strength nor warmth, firm and affectionate it was. He was not letting go, not now, not ever.

“Veritas… I’m fine.” You whispered, yet your trembling voice didn’t do much to ease the doctor’s worries. “I just..  I don’t know what is it with me today.” You hugged back, well, closer to clung back to the larger male’s form. “I’m sorry.”

“Shh, don’t be. It was me that got carried away.” He reassured, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Such an emotional moment it was, shame that it had to end so clumsily. Your feet eventually tangled together, sending you down face first into the water. Veritas wasn’t happy with this, there was no world where he would have been happy with this, yet at the moment he couldn’t stop laughing. His poor lungs were probably desperate for air.

Eventually, Veritas pulled both of you out, that wide uncharacteristic grin still shamelessly gracing his face. He ran his hand through his wet hair, pulling his bangs back. You could only stare. You had almost forgotten all the dark thoughts that plagued you earlier. That was just what Veritas did to you. “Why are you staring at me like that?” Veritas' grin morphed into a proud smile. Perhaps you did something to him too. “You said you didn’t want to get your hair wet.” You chuckled, eyes not leaving the larger male’s for even a moment. You traced your hand along Veritas’ forearms, fingertips only gently caressing his form. “You mentioned that massage, didn’t you?”

Veritas tensed up a bit, back straightening before taking up the challenge. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t hold up to my word?” He scoffed even just at the thought. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything.” You teased back, that shine in your eyes returned like it never went missing in the first place. The terminal waters were only further raising the tension between the two. Light steam oozed from the pool of the water before sensually dancing in the air around them.

“Come here.” Veritas gently pushed you against the edge of the spring, his chest making contact with your naked back “Relax now, love. I got you.” His hot, steamy breath could be felt all the way down your exposed, vulnerable neck. He striped you bare of all control, yet also of all your stresses. Your body melted into the doctor’s first touch, the soft kneading motion of his hands causing a sensation comparable to heaven itself. It started with only your shoulders, the muscle fully giving into the affectionate motions. Your lower back was not neglected either. 

“Can you feel that? Doesn’t it feel nice to let me take care of you for once?” His hands found that one particular knot that has been causing you trouble without you even knowing it, at least that would explain the uncharacteristic, explicit moan that left your choked throat. You arched your back, perhaps on impulse. That said, Veritas did not miss the chance to feel you up. “It’s nice.” The words escaped your lips. You leaned into the touch, the doctor’s hand expertly maneuvering your body like it was made all for him. You, of course, didn’t mind this at all, other than the quite distracting heat rising in his lower stomach. “I want more of you.” Your words were immediately answered with a pinch on the nipple. You gasped, the sensitive pink buds hardening after only a few squeezes. Instead of relaxation, Veritas’ massage only induced the opposite, excitement.

“I know, darling, I know.” Just like he could give pleasure, he could also take it away. He let go of your perky, pink nipples, returning his hands to your back. “But I need you to relax if you want more.” His feathery touch moved down to your soft cheeks, massaging the fat of your ass. Your breath hitched, you knew where this was going and your patience was running low. “Veritas…” You whined, but only received a slap to the ass. “Patience breeds success.” Veritas spoke his usual wisdom, though something told him that maybe it might have been uncalled for. But you bit your tongue. You pushed your rear into Veritas’ hand, hoping that the action will inflict impatience on him too.

It seemed to have worked. You felt that familiar hardness brushing against your soft ass, touching you so teasingly, making you lose your mind. Though, you were shortly rewarded. Out of nowhere, you felt a singular finger stab through your pucker hole, eliciting just the softest moan to slip out of your precious lips. You gripped onto the lake’s moist edge for much needed aid. “Just one finger in and you completely fall apart. My, I wonder how much could you really take?” He emphasized the words with a hit to the prostate, feeling the fleshy walls almost immediately clenching around his digits. It didn’t take long before the second one joined into the mix, the needy moan that spilled from your lips just a moment ago now mutating into a loud whine. “Please Veritas. It’s not enough.” You cried out, feeling as if that sweet spot deep inside you was being set ablaze.

“Say it again and I might consider it.” He dared to make such an order. If the scenario was any different you would have scoffed, yet horniness has its way with making all shame dissipate. “Please.” 

Veritas had enough mercy to make that ‘maybe’ into a definite ‘yes’. The third finger slid in just as easily as the first two, stretching you open with no resistance other than the periodic clenching. “Is this how you like it? Or was it something else you were begging for?” Veritas asked, but only received an absentminded, but nothing short of enthusiastic nod. That was enough for him to understand his love’s wishes. 

“Fine, I think you deserve it.” His fingers left a vacant hole inside you, but reassurance came when you felt the throbbing member sliding between your cheeks. “You can take it, I’m sure of it.” You could only gulp nervously at the doctor’s words, feeling your own burning saliva sliding down your dry throat. The open mouth kiss Veritas left on your neck sent you over the edge. You aligned yourself with Veritas’ pulsing erection, your body practically begging for penetration. And your love gave in.

Veritas stabbed into your tight ass, penetrating the petite entrance inch by inch before bottoming out completely. “God, you’re so fucking tight.” You could feel the rhythmic throbbing of his dick, your nice butt swallowing each pulse of his erection. Veritas started out slowly, dragging his dick out before slamming right back in with force. His dick felt like it was burning inside your heat. In this state of mind and body your neck felt like the tastiest treat. He started out with only gentle kisses, following with the kisses that would leave lasting bruises before finally biting fully down and piercing the thin layer of skin, provoking a choked scream to break the otherwise peaceful night. 

His thrust only got faster, even if little by little. The choked scream was only built upon by much meeker whimpers uncontrollably seeping out of your needlessly addictive lips. Your nipples weren’t forgotten either. Just a single pinch and your voice rose in pitch. Veritas flickered his thumb over the hardening button, leaving it even more sensitive. “Ah.. hah.. Too- Too much.” You babbled.

“Too much? Already?” Veritas raised a singular eyebrow. “Come on, you know there is even more to come, right? I haven’t even started with you.” Just as promised, Veritas’ pace accelerated, causing the once tranquil water to now violently splash against the many rocks that built the lake. His kisses were wet, needy and absolutely devouring, attacking just the sweetest flesh of your neck. And the lewd sounds coming from your hoarse throat served as only further motivation. Though he still had some of that gentleman left in him, enough that he would never let you poor leaking cock neglected. He squeezed your shaft, perhaps too roughly at first, before starting to pump at an almost equal pace to his thrust. Considering this, the arch of your back that followed should have been expected. You pushed your ass into him while your front was still clawing at the lake's solid border. Drool slid down your chin, the absolute disheveled state you were in causing the other male's rock hard dick to twitch.

“You like that, don't you?” Suddenly, he stopped. His large hands moved up from your waist, running up your side before settling on your chest. “You like it when I grope you like this. You like it when I worship your body.” You could feel his hot breath crawling down your spine, starting from your flushed, red ears all the way down. “Admit it. Say it out loud.” His words could barely count as whispers. 

You gulped. It wasn’t that you couldn’t admit it, it was just that you couldn’t catch your breath. “Mmm…” You mumbled, but the way Veritas grabbed your chin told you that he wasn’t quite pleased. “Use your words.” He turned your head to get a better look, watching your oh so perfectly fucked out face. “Y-Yes-” A slap to the ass was the only thing you received, but the stinging pain already told you everything. “I… I like the way you touch my body. Please, do it again.” You said, but his silent gaze didn’t do much to reassure you. Lucky, you got that reassurance in other ways. He pulled you into a hot, deep kiss, his tongue breaching the barrier of your lips and getting right to that tasty spot that made kissing you so addictive. 

He dropped that cold mask and moaned into your mouth, the shameful sound something he would never in any scenario let anyone hear, but you proved to be quite the exception for him in most things in life. You could melt just in the kiss itself, but oh when you felt his dick move inside you again, you could have dropped to your knees right then and there. He began moving his hips again, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves hidden deep inside your passage repeatedly until all the thrusts merged together. He caught up to the previous pace, hungry hands reaching for your erect member with a carnal need before beginning to pump in the same rhythm with each strike. 

“Fuck…” The words got lost in the kiss. “You feel so good.” His nails dug into your hips, the slight surge of pain nothing compared to the overwhelming pleasure. “I… I think that- ngh, I’m close.” Veritas lost control of his own hips, sloppy, but fast, thrust setting fire ablaze inside you. The act itself would have heated up your body on its own, but combined with the hot spring’s steamy water sweat was sure to stick to your body like a second skin. “Veritas, I can’t… hold it in.” You whined and, finally, after just a few pumps you screamed out his name, your whole body spasming as your cute cock sent its filthy, sinful load into the pure, clean thermal water, staining what some would refer to as holy sight. And with how tightly you clenched around the man it was only natural that he would follow. Veritas’ deep groan, hoarse from pleasure, echoed through the silent night as he practically erupted inside your tight little hole, feeling how its walls squeezed every single bit of cum out of him. Your bodies molded together for only a brief moment, but even in such a short time your pleasure felt like his and his felt like yours. 

But eventually, you both fell from the shared high, bodies sore from all the action. But even the painful soreness was something Veritas wanted to share with you. The doctor’s tight grip relaxed, leaving red spots where he once held you in place like a hungry animal, though what came after felt equally loving. He nuzzled your abused neck, the poor thing left bruised, before inhaling your scent, not the one of your cologne, but the one your sweaty body oozed with on its own accord. He moaned, probably for the last time tonight, at the feeling of his now softening dick snugly hidden within your passage, he could stay like this forever.

“Such sounds don’t suit you, doctor.” You teased, leaning back into the safe embrace. “That’s because they were only meant for you.” In a somewhat strange moment of vulnerability, he kissed your earlobes, whispering such sweet words that you couldn’t believe it was him.

“Really?” You asked, trying to sound ever so sarcastic in an attempt to hide the fluttering feeling that raged inside your heart. “Then I think it’s better if this stayed just between the two of us.” He was quick to nod at your proposal, not even sparing a moment. “I think so too.”

You looked back down at your own hand, noticing your smooth skin morphing into wet wrinkles. “Maybe we should go dry ourselves before we get all wrinkly.”

“Just give me a few more minutes. I want the moment to soak in.” Reason told him otherwise, but his mind has already fallen into the love’s trap. The roles were now reversed and you couldn’t help yourself from commenting. “Such foolish words, I expected better from someone of your capabilities.” Though another, more annoyed, slap to the tush was enough to make you reconsider your words.

[Writer’s note: it's been a while, hasn't it? I started writing physically recently. Spend a notebook in like two weeks. This was supposed to be finished earlier. Oh well... As you might have seen in my answers life has not been so good to me lately. Thankfully, this tough patch might be ending soon. I just have to survive another month and I'm done. Perhaps I'll be posting more then.]

#dr ratio x amab reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader #dr ratio #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr x amab reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader

[aloysiavirgata]

What do you think Scully and Mulder would disagree on as parents? A prompt, if you will.

Scully wanted schedules. Meal plans. Calendars. She wanted piano lessons on Thursdays, swim lessons on Mondays, and labeled bins for the Legos and Thomas train cars. She wanted whole grains and bento boxes and clothes from Boden and Hanna Andersson and Tea Collection. Vacations in the Galapagos and the Grand Canyon. She wanted - in her most secret heart - for him to be the star of the soccer or lacrosse teams. Or both.

Mulder wanted the gauche consumerism of Disney World every spring. He wanted drippy ice cream cones and a perpetually muddy dog and troops of sticky neighbor children marauding through the back door so he could say JESUS CHRIST WILLIAM I’M NOT PAYING TO AIR CONDITION THE WHOLE STREET. He imagined burnt pig-anus hot dogs over a campfire, a floor strewn with action figures, snow angels, Chef Boyardee. No chess coach, no deportment classes, those new-fangled sneakers that lit up. He imagined Welch’s grape juice stains on the couch.

***

Scully, luscious and fully fleshed again, with William suckling at her blue-veined breast. Scully like a Renaissance Madonna reimagined by Margaret Atwood.

“My mother sold her wedding dress to pay for Charlie’s football gear,” she says, touching William’s rose petal cheek. “My father made pretty good money for the Navy and all, but four kids so close together…we ate a lot of spaghetti. Lots of hand me downs. Missy shoplifted makeup a whole lot, if my mother ever knew…”

“Malnutrition why you’re so short?” he asks, because he knows she wasn’t actually malnourished.

She scowls. “It was never dirty, my mother would have died first. But just…you know. Heaps of rain boots at the door and school books on the table and hair ribbons and pencil stubs and recorder sheet music and half a cream-cheese-and-jelly sandwich withering on a plate because Bill and Missy were pinching each other…”

Scully trails off, switches the baby to her other breast. Remembers dinners of store-brand fish sticks and creamed corn because one of them had an unexpected pricey field trip.

William gurgles, clutches a fistful of his mother’s silky hair. Blows a raspberry beneath her Delft pottery gaze.

Mulder kisses William’s warm, fragrant head.

Mulder remembers his father, pleasantly loquacious on bourbon, teaching him about shoulder lines and top-stitching at 8. His mother and Samantha in matching ruffled Gunne Saxe dresses, the starched disapproval of the maid when he tracked footprints over the fresh vacuum lines in the carpet.

Chicken a la King, wedge salad, Steak Diane, swigs of his mother’s sidecar…

William hiccups, dribbling milk down his fat cheek. He begins to hiccup more, which makes him laugh at first, and which then makes him cry.

“It was just always loud and chaotic,” Scully says, propping the baby against her shoulder. “Someone was always hurt or in trouble or pulling hair or getting their hair pulled…it was impossible to think or relax. College was such a gift.” She remembers a study- fort she built in the San Diego coat closet.

William belches, then cheerfully vomits down her cleavage.

Scully groans.

Mulder mops her up with tender precision, watches William try to stuff his dinner-roll fist into his mouth.

“It’s been silent at my house for twenty-eight years,” Mulder says.

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr #my fic #prompt #william #family #inbox

[aphroditelovesu]

Handmaiden - II

❝commission: continuation of the Handmaiden story, with a pregnant Reader and fluffy romantic Alexander and Roxanna being all lovey-dovey and touchy with the Handmaiden.

❝ 📜 — lady l: this is a continuation that can be read by clicking here, if you want. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes, it's 2 am lol.

❝tw: pregnancy and past non-con, other than that, fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!roxanna x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,252.

The last few weeks have been like a blur for you. All you remembered was being trapped in Roxanna's tent and being filled in day after day by Alexander. They seemed very excited about the prospect that you might get pregnant and that scared you more than anything.

Your body was sore these last few days, you noticed. Your breasts felt heavier and more tender to the touch and you've noticed a significant increase in your appetite recently. You knew what these signs could mean, though you desperately prayed to whatever gods were listening that it wasn't true.

But when you resigned yourself to the fact that you might be pregnant, you tried to think on the bright side. If you really were with a child, it meant that there would no longer be those nights when you would feel Alexander inside you, nor Roxanna's sweet words, words that left you more disgusted than the man inside your body.

You placed your hand on your stomach, rubbing it slowly. Maybe being pregnant isn't all bad and you could finally get rid of it all.

Resigned to this, you sat on the cot and sighed as you waited for your lovers — you weren't sure if you should call them that — to arrive. You could finally break the news and get rid of them once you gave birth, you supposed.

"What do you think, sweet girl?" You were startled when you heard Roxanna's soft voice. You swallowed and looked at her, who was wearing simpler clothes than usual.

You shook your head and muttered weakly, "N-Nothing."

Roxanna narrowed her eyes and approached you, placing her hand on your face and raising your gaze. You can't help but be mesmerized by her dark eyes. Roxanna was a very beautiful woman and there was no denying that.

She was said to be the most beautiful woman in Asia after Darius's wife. But Stateira had died years ago, so that title remained to Roxanna.

"Do not lie to me." She scolded you and lowered your face, bringing it closer to hers. She watched you for a few minutes and closed the distance between you, sealing your lips in a soft kiss that quickly became passionate.

You blushed when you felt her tongue on yours. Roxanna didn't stop kissing you, she made you lie down on the cot and got on top of you, her soft hands grabbing the ornament of your dress, a dress that had been gifted to you by Alexander.

Roxanna deepened the kiss, exploring your mouth with a mixture of tenderness and desire. You tried to relax, but the weight of everything that was happening made your body tense. When she finally pulled away, her dark eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn't completely decipher.

"You look different," She said, studying your face with an expression of concern and curiosity, "There's something you're not telling me."

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Roxanna, I.. I think I might be pregnant." Your voice came out weaker than you intended, almost a whisper.

Roxanna lit up at the news, her dark eyes shining with joy. She let out a soft laugh and wrapped you in a tight hug, "Oh, that's wonderful!" She exclaimed, kissing your face repeatedly, "You have given us such a precious gift!" She kissed your forehead, an almost maternal gesture.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the turmoil of emotions inside you, "Does that mean I won't have to... Go through this every night?" You asked, your voice filled with hope.

Roxanna paused for a moment, her gaze becoming more serious. "Maybe. But for now, we need to confirm. And if it's true, we'll need to take good care of you and the baby."

You nodded, accepting what seemed like your fate. Roxanna stood up from the cot and reached out to you, "Come, let's find Alexander. He needs to know this immediately."

With a resigned sigh, you accepted her hand and stood up, following her out of the tent. The camp was busy, with soldiers and servants passing from one side to the other. Each unfamiliar face seemed like a reminder of your own situation, trapped in a place where your body was not truly hers.

When you arrived at Alexander's tent, Roxanna gestured for you to wait outside while she went inside to talk to him. You could hear their hushed voices arguing, and then the imposing figure of Alexander appeared in the doorway.

He looked at you with a mixture of pride and expectation, "It is true?" He asked, his voice deep and authoritative.

You swallowed and nodded, "I think so."

Alexander smiled and walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder. "This is wonderful news," He said, "We will need a strong heir to continue our legacy."

You forced a smile, trying not to think about the uncertain future unfolding in front of you. Alexander turned to Roxanna and gave a brief wave, "Take care of her. I want her to be treated with the utmost care."

Roxanna nodded and took you back to the tent, where she began making plans to ensure you were comfortable and well fed, "We'll take care of you, sweet girl," Sshe said softly. "And our baby's."

As she spoke, you couldn't help but feel a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this baby was the key to a new life. A life where you could find a way to escape, where you could finally be free. But you should know better than to have false hope.

Alexander leaned over and kissed you on the forehead, and then on your stomach, in a loving gesture, "We need to make sure you and our child receive all the care possible. Nothing is more important right now."

After the news of your pregnancy, Alexander and Roxanna began to treat you with even greater care and devotion. Your routine changed significantly, and every aspect of your life became centered on you and your baby's well-being.

Alexander became incredibly protective. He ordered that you have the best doctors and healers available, and insisted that regular visits be made to monitor your health and that of the baby. He also had a special tent prepared, decorated with luxuries and comforts to ensure you were always relaxed and well looked after.

Furthermore, Alexander often brings you gifts: fresh fruits, fine fabrics, and delicate ornaments. He starts to visit you more frequently, not only to check on your condition, but also to talk and share tender moments. He talks with pride about the future, about the son or daughter that will come, and how that child will be the continuation of his legacy.

Roxanna, in turn, became almost motherly in her approach. She spends a lot of time by your side, making sure you are comfortable and happy. She has brought other handmaidens to care for you, prepare your favorite meals, and ensure that your diet is as nutritious as possible.

She also began sharing stories and legends about motherhood and parenting, seeking to not only calm your nerves but also create a deeper bond with you. Roxanna teaches you about baby care, and constantly massages your back and feet, relieving any discomfort.

They were excited about the prospect of having a child, after all, the child you were carrying belonged to them and not to you.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #alexander the great x reader #roxanna x reader #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #yandere roxanna x reader #commission #imagine #yandere imagine

[nyrasproblm]

I'm not the only one - 7

Leto Atreides x reader

Word Count: 2,2K

Warning: angst, some fluff at the end, arranged marriage, age gap (reader is 20s, Leto is between 40-49), mention of mental discomfort, mention of pregnancy.

note: It's almost June!

series masterlist | next chapter

Jessica's belly seemed to bulge out more and more everyday. Despite all the differences, you were happy to notice that the child was growing healthy inside her. She looked more serene and stunning too, Leto was a more constant presence at Arrakeen Palace now. You couldn't help but feel an ugly, rotten feeling growing inside you every time you saw them talking quietly in some quiet corner.

The truth is that you didn't want a child, even though you were uncomfortable and pressured to have one. Imagining something alive inside you always made you shiver slightly. The idea of being responsible for another life scared you, you didn't want to have a child to just disappoint him or hand him over as a pawn in political games. You always ran into your husband in the hallways now that he was more present at the Palace due to Jessica's pregnancy.

You had dinner with Leto every night, it was a formality that as his wife you had to fulfill. Most dinners were silent and occupied only by the sounds of the cutlery hitting the china, your husband tried to fill the silence every now and then, but the conversation never progressed, it always stopped after one or two words from you.

It's not that you were bitter, no. You just didn't feel like doing anything, you really missed your mother and your planet, the time when things were simpler. When your father's ambition had not consumed him. Despite having your maids, Hawat and Paul, you still felt alone, often finding yourself awake even when the light began to brighten outside.

Your head squeaked with silence, a million black threads tangled inside your brain, chaotic and dark, not letting you think clearly. You stayed on the balcony of your room, hoping that the brightness and warmth of the sun would clear your mind. On those days you preferred to be alone, you weren't good company for anyone. You locked himself in your room and sometimes forgot to eat, spending hours telling the maids to leave.

Staying on the balcony was good to cover the squeaking in your head, the city below was noisy and chaotic. You sometimes read and tried to knit something, but you always ended up with dull eyes staring at some point somewhere far from what you were doing. It was tiring. You thought about talking to Hawat and telling him what you had, maybe he would have some answers.

"Stress or hearing loss, my lady." Hawat replied with a frown.

"Hearing loss? In the last physical evaluation Dr. Yueh told me that I am completely healthy." you replied, slightly tilting your head to the side.

You were sitting on the dark wooden and leather upholstered chair facing Hawat's desk in his office. The sun passed weakly through the closed blinds, Hawat sat facing you, arms crossed on the dark table top.

"Those were the possibilities I found following the symptoms my lady reported." he replied. "You also seem perfectly healthy to me, maybe it's stress, Duchess."

"Nonsense, I'm not stressed. I have no reason to be stressed." you stated, shrugging, but pressed your lips into a thin line and looked at him. "Do you think I have any reason to be stressed?"

Hawat looked at you in that tender way, as if he had known you his whole life, and extended his hand across the table. You lifted one of yours and held his chubby hand.

"Maybe you shouldn't spend time alone, martyring yourself, that's not good, my lady." he said this with pity.

"I like being alone, it's good so they don't see me the way I am."

"This is your home, you have to treat it as such, talk more to the servants, see how things are going." he replied.

"This is not my home. It isn't and it never will be." your voice sounded much colder than you expected and you sighed.

Hawat sighed and used his free hand to pat yours.

"You know where to find me if you need any help, my lady.”

You found yourself thinking about what Hawat said as you left his office and walked down the beige colored hallways to your room. He was right, maybe you shouldn't isolate yourself so much, what you were feeling could consume you from the inside out and only the Creator knows what would happen next.

You turned into another hallway and raised your eyebrows in surprise to see Lady Jessica in it, talking to one of her maids. You approached timidly and they almost didn't notice your presence.

"Hello." you greeted them and saw their heads quickly turn towards you.

"Duchess." Jessica lowered her head in a respectful greeting. "Leave us, please." she turned to speak to the maid, who nodded and left.

When she turned her body completely around, you noticed that she was holding a metallic message tube in her slender fingers.

"It's very good to see you, you were locked up in your quarters for the last few days." she said softly. "Raja was going to hand over the message tube but I asked her to let me deliver it, I wanted to see you."

She holds out the tube and you take it, seeing the coat of arms of your birthplace stamped on the metal. You look for a few more seconds and look up, meeting hers, who was staring at you in silence.

"I'll open it later, thank you." you hold the tube tightly in your hands, trying to hide your frustration.

"Do you want to walk a little? It'll do us both good to get some air." she asked softly, running a hand over her stomach. "Well, the three of us."

"I have some things to do–"

"It won't take all day, I don't want to walk alone, please." she insisted and you sighed, nodding your head in agreement.

The two of you turned and started walking side by side, nodding your head at the servants that passed by. Jessica turned into a hallway that was close to the bedroom that Paul liked, at the end of the hallway there was a staircase that led to the oval door, the Arrakeen Palace greenhouse was behind the funny-shaped door. Jessica used her palm to open the lock and made room for you to enter.

The two of you started looking at the plants and flowers carefully, pointing and commenting on each one of them. Jessica sometimes ran her hands over her protruding belly. At one point you caught yourself staring at her belly out of the corner of your eye, your brow furrowed in concentration and your lips tightly closed. She followed your gaze and stopped talking about one of the yellow flowers near the ground, turning fully towards you.

"It's growing fast, isn't it?" she comments, running both hands over her belly.

"I think so. Is it a boy or a girl?" you asked absently, rolling the metal tube in your hands.

"Paul calls it 'she', he talks to her every now and then." she sighed.

"Have you already chosen a name?"

"If Paul is really right, it will be Alia." she reached up with one hand and brushed one of the strands of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Do you want to have kids?"

"I don't know if I have much of a choice about having kids."

"Don't you think you'd be a good mother?" she asks.

"People have children to satisfy the desire to have something to care for and guide, I don't know if I have that desire." you respond, looking back at the yellow flower. "It terrifies me, actually."

You sighed for the thousandth time that day as you sat down on the upholstered chair in your room to read the metallic tube. Taking him out of the capsule, your brow furrowed and you shook your head in irritation with each sentence read. Your father. You didn't know how, but he already knew about Jessica's pregnancy and used that to take out his frustrations on you. How could he do this so well from a distance?

You didn't know why he wanted you to get pregnant so much, your child wouldn't inherit anything anyway, the duchy was already Paul's. Maybe he treated it like winning a prize, wanted some assurance that your sacrifice had worked. Even though you were angry with your father and disapproved of his actions, his words bothered you a lot, making you play them in your head.

When the time arrived, you got ready and walked to the dining room. What dejavu, you had done this so many times since arriving on Arrakis, but this time things seemed to be okay. You saw that the place arranged for you to have dinner was next to where the Duke was sitting.

"My lord duke." you greeted respectfully, seeing him get up to pull out the chair for you to sit on.

"My lady Duchess." he carefully pushed the chair closer to the table as you sat down. "I took the liberty of placing your seat next to mine."

"It looks perfect, thank you." You smiled softly and waited for him to sit down to start eating, following his pace.

Chewing slowly, his mind kept returning to his father's message and the tangled strands of his brain. Without realizing it, you shivered slightly, shrugging your shoulders involuntarily. 'Do your duty to your husband.'

Leto's voice was present, muffled and far away. You shook your head to return to your seat, listening to his last words.

"...Dunes again?” he had his face turned towards you, a little smile in his lips.

"Sorry, what did you say?" you blinked and frowned.

"I asked when you're going to see the dunes again." he repeated.

"Oh, I-I don’t know, I don’t want to get in the way by using the ornithopters.”

"You won't get in the way, I assure you. Maybe we can go together tomorrow, what do you think?" he asked, bringing the fork to his lips then.

"Of course, that would be great." You gave a quick smile and hid your face, taking a long sip of wine.

Leto frowned at your actions, you weren't like that. She was shy in a way, yes, but not like that. He leaned over and placed one of his calloused hands on top of yours, watching you quickly turn your face to him.

"Is there any problem? Do you want to tell me something?" he asked softly and you could see genuine concern on his face.

"Ah, I'm fine, why?" you trailed off.

"You can talk to me, talk when I'm bothering you. I'm a husband, I'll try to help you."

"I'm fine, really." you tried to smile, but it came out more like an uncomfortable grimace.

"Are you sure? Does it have anything to do with the message that arrived on Arrakis from your father today?" he said and you couldn't help but widen your eyes slightly. "Did he say something unpleasant? Insulted you? You are my wife now, your father has no claim on you. Besides my wife, you have a place of honor in the empire as a Duchess, remind your father of his place. What did he say?"

He looked slightly irritated now, his expressions tightening with each sentence he said.Leto knew his father-in-law well, he had disliked the man since the day your hand was proposed to him. Your father was a rude man and your husband didn't like the way he talked about you like you were a bargaining chip. He remembered the time he threatened to make complaints about you to your father and he felt a bitter taste in his mouth. You swallowed hard and finally returned the caress he was giving your hand, absently running your thumb over his calloused hand.

"He was very cruel and reminded me again that it was my duty to get pregnant." you rested your chin on your free hand. "The news of Lady Jessica's pregnancy reached him, I don't know how."

"Thufir will take care of finding out who is sending information out, don't worry." he assured.

"Thank you." you said and turned your face to the varnished bull horns that were hanging near the dining table.

"Look at me." you heard your husband ask and turned your face, looking into his dark eyes. "Do you want a baby?"

"What?"

"If you really want a child, I will give you one." he said with conviction. "Do you want one?"

"Why are you asking that now, man?" you grimaced. “You said yourself you would never lay with me.”

"I don't want you to suffer attacks and demands from your father."

"If I had a child it would be out of duty." you replied. "I don't know if I could love the child."

This seemed to shrink Leto and he sat back in his chair.

"Sorry." you said embarrassedly.

"Don't apologize, I like your honesty." he said. "If you ever want to carry your baby, I'll be in my room."

You let out a loud laugh and covered your mouth with your hand, throwing your head back. This seemed to amuse Leto and you heard a short, deep laugh come out of him.

"I didn't know you were so promiscuous."

"Hey, I'm just trying to please my wife." he said playfully.

"Oh, if you say so." you raised your eyebrows in amusement.

Leto Atreides taglist: @gagaga167 @hargrovehoe @sleepyamaya @oceandolores @cleothegoldfish @aleemendoza2425-blog @oh-you-mean-me

#writers on tumblr #writing #dune fanfiction #fem reader #leto atreides x reader #duke leto x reader #leto atreides x you #leto atreides x reader angst #duke leto #leto atreides

[birdmitosis]

💔 for the chapter 3 princesses?

💔 An angsty headcanon

Like Tower before Her, Apotheosis cannot really emotionally connect to individual people, but while Tower would be unhappy and lonely if She never had people around Her at all, Apotheosis has trouble with that. Individuals are just so small, even if they wanted to get near Her. The Protagonist would be the only one who could ease that for Her; without him, Apotheosis really is a supremely lonely god.

Den can still hear the cabin and the basement -- Her cage, Her pit -- talks to Her. It's why She's starving, malnourished. It tells Her that She deserves it after what She did.

Eye of the Needle, if Adversary progresses to that point, is far less capable of being able to readjust to a more normal life. She has gotten to a point where She constantly feels unsatisfied by never having the fight She was denied. She might not be forever doomed to that, but She may fall into the trap of eternally searching for it.

Fury's rage is stoked by a severe self-loathing. She hates what She has become and hates the Protagonist for turning Her into it. Without the Protagonist around, that rage is still there, but Her self-loathing eats at Her more. She is less than what She was, She thinks, and She can never get it back. She was denied that. She takes this to mean She can never be better, so She embraces being worse even though She doesn't want to. (As a less angsty headcanon, this makes me think She might get along with Witch/Thorn/that version of Wild.)

Burned Grey remembers trying so hard to accept the Protagonist destroying what few small desires She had: to leave the cabin with him, and to not die. She tried to accept his decision, even with tears in Her eyes, but now She accepts Her desires fully even if they hurt both Her and him. She would, I think, be the vessel most upset about never being allowed Her wish in the end if not for the full understanding that seems to come with reuniting with the Shifting Mound.

Drowned Grey cannot emote and cannot quite access Her own emotions in Her death. Unlike the Burned Grey, where the dry heat that consumes the entire Construct is an expression of Her desire to burn it all down and destroy it all -- which She fully feels and is aware of -- the constant rain in the Drowned Grey's route is Her sorrow fully externalized. She can't cry and She can't even quite feel like She wants to cry anymore, but the Construct itself weeps. She thinks that drowning the Protagonist is making him feel how She choked on Her own blood... It isn't, but She does want him to feel and understand Her: the emotions She can no longer access, She needs him to be fully faced with Her sorrow at being betrayed, at not being trusted, at not being understood.

Moment of Clarity is as broken down as the Protagonist and any of his voices. They are not the only ones who have done all of this over and over and over and over and over again, after all. And they have all exhausted every other option before finally freeing Her solely because they can no longer avoid it. They can no longer do anything else. The tender moment She shares with the Protagonist is almost despite Herself... He is finally, finally letting Her out and it almost looks like he made the choice to do so. She can almost pretend he made the choice to do so. But he tried so hard to put it off until choices just didn't exist for either of them anymore, didn't he?

Thorn still has so much Witch in Her. This isn't the headcanon; it's obvious if you choose literally any of the options other than finally freeing Her. My headcanon is that if She would, of course, sometimes continue to backslide into being more like Witch in negative situations. And She would hate it. There'd be a lot of uncertainty in Her still if She could actually be better, if She wasn't still the worst.

Networked Wild, if She could actually escape like that -- even with the Protagonist and the voices -- would still always feel incomplete and too afraid to ever risk looking at and facing what She'd done, what they had done, and what it might mean for all of them. They would probably always be doomed to fall apart at some point.

Wounded Wild feels incomplete, even if She will always feel grateful for the kindness, empathy, and companionship She receives "despite" being incomplete. Maybe She can work past that eventually, but it will take her a long time, and also a long time to really feel okay facing who and what She had been and done. (Again, a slightly less angsty headcanon, but I think this means Wounded Wild-from-Beast would get along well with Thorn.)

Wraith wants so, so badly to be able to heal Her relationship with the Protagonist and to forgive him and the voices. She wants it so badly She can't let herself realize it. The one moment She allows herself to is when, if they toss themselves and Her into the abyss, She asks "WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" Her laughter that follows is at Herself for Her folly.

SPECIAL CASES:

Arms Race/No Way Out doesn't know how to be anything other than a weapon, doesn't know how to do anything other than hurt the Protagonist. Doesn't know how to want anything else. She is joy in Her purpose, but She is nothing outside of it. She likes him, yes, but She doesn't know what to do with it. She is -- ironically, given the name of the alternate Chapter IV -- empty, maybe even more so than the Deconstructed Damsel.

Mutually Assured Destruction/Empty Cup panics because She does not know how to be anything other than what She is. If She steps out into the unknown -- if She changes -- what is She? Is She nothing if She is not the one who hurts the Protagonist? All She can do when Her armor and sharp edges crumple and strip away is to put Her heart in his hand and trust that he will be able to lead Her to what comes next.

Stranger doesn't have a Chapter III at all, but so They aren't left out entirely: what happened shook Them all up really badly at first. It wasn't just Harsh, Neutral, and Soft all pleading with the Protagonist at the end of their chapter, but Emo and even Monster as well.

#some of these are more angsty than others #and some are more in-depth than others #sorry it took me a while! had to get my thoughts straight on some of 'em #slay the princess #headcanons #the vessels #the princess #the apotheosis #the den #the eye of the needle #the fury #the grey #the burned grey #the drowned grey #the moment of clarity #the thorn #the wild #the networked wild #the wounded wild #the wraith #the razor #the arms race #no way out #mutually assured destruction #the empty cup #the stranger #ask box games #askin answerin chattin

[yu-huuuu]

Mod// Heyyy guess what, I actually have a request for once!!!

Could I get a Madara × Fem!Reader OneShot/Headcanon/Drabble?

I fell really hard for that bastard over the last couple days and probably broke a couple bones as I did.

I was thinking of something like his wife teasing and provoking him (because he's hot when he's angry) so that he can put her in her place. She'll be obedient again after that. (I swear the things I'll let this man do to me, I need holy water)

NSFW would be great, but doesn't have to be.

Hope you have a lovely day my dear!💜

[ 🌸 ] bby… I think I overdid this 😂🤙🏼

Characters: madara uchiha

genre: mentions of the fluff type… and then it gets hot

warnings: sex, squirting, spanking, you-know-what nicknames 🫣…, +18, v & p, positions, writer don't remember what more crap she wrote,

..

minors go read something productive, thank you for your attention

..

…

..

.

"Little brat"

You shuddered at feeling a spank on your butt before gasping from a particularly hard thrust into your sweet spot.

You couldn't move; Madara had tied your wrists with his belt, leaving you completely immobilized and at his mercy when you had pathetically tried to pull away from the overstimulating pleasure, soaking his palm in the process. Your knees were starting to feel numb.

A smile had appeared on your face initially when your plan to make your loving husband give in to your provocations had worked. Married life with your partner had left you smitten, but Madara had not wanted to stop being gentle with you.

Making love had felt like touching the sky the first time you decided to give yourself to him: the gentle and almost timid touches, the whispers of how much he loved you made, and had made your heart and chest feel warm before sending you into another orgasm.

You knew it; you already knew the reason: he didn't want to corrupt you. He didn't want to hurt you with his roughness or his touch. You could understand his concern, but after two years of the same slow and tender rhythm, you had quickly grown bored, leaving you wanting more.

You had heard of women who had provoked and teased their husbands to bring out their wilder side. At first, you refused to take that path, deciding to wait. Instead, you chose a more direct approach by selecting lingerie; you thought you had succeeded, but it was the same.

It didn’t matter the different types of bras that gave you that cleavage most girls would kill for or the different types of thongs that highlighted your hips and butt. The color or the foreplay didn’t matter, it wasn’t enough for Madara to take you the way you desired, and that’s when you decided to do the only thing left.

Teasing him was nothing new, you were always gentle, choosing humorous and almost sarcastic responses. But provoking him? That was new territory, especially doing it in front of other people. You didn’t know how to act, you just followed your instinct.

A pitiful moan escaped your lips when his thrusts concentrated on hitting your already sore and overstimulated G-spot. A thin trail of saliva escaped your lips, staining your chin. Your breasts moved with Madara's rough movements, your nipples still throbbing from the harsh treatment Madara had given them.

You felt another smack on your ass before feeling Madara’s soft but rough lips on your shoulder.

“Did you really think you would get away with it, darling?” he whispered mockingly in your ear before gently biting your earlobe, contrasting with his hard thrusts. You clenched your hands as you felt another orgasm approaching.

In an almost pitiful act, you begged, trying to articulate a comprehensible word between moans and gasps, “I… please… no more–”. You stopped when a scream tore through you as your pussy convulsed again, making your juices spill onto the already wrinkled sheets of the bed. You might have felt bad about staining the bed if it wasn’t already stained. Your pussy clenched again when his cock went deeper inside you, leaving you panting. You felt like you were going to split in two. Your orgasm felt so close when his cock hit that special spot again; you were going to explode at any moment.

You weren't going to last long; your head fell as you tried to babble again, “please… I don't think I can…” you tried to articulate as your eyes closed and opened, hesitant with pleasure.

An almost sinister laugh came from behind you, making you shiver. You didn't know if it was for pleasure or fear; Maybe it was both. A large hand left your hip to trail down your smooth stomach before moving down.

With a loud gasp, you tried to close your thighs in a pathetic attempt to push his hand away from him to try and avoid what was to come, but he was faster. His legs were placed over yours, crushing them, but not hurting them.

“Yes you can,” he murmured in an authoritative tone of voice after slapping your clit before massaging it roughly, quickly and carelessly.

You felt like you were in hell and in heaven, you were going to end soon. A blush crept up your chest and face as you imagined what the two of you would look like: Madara fucking you from behind, you on your knees and completely helpless, being held down by her belt while you pitifully begged him that you couldn't take it anymore.

Small tears came out of your eyes as you felt it again. You were going to finish very soon. A moan that felt like a scream escaped your lips when you felt it. A liquid escaped from you, staining his hand, which did not stop moving, onto your thighs and onto the already wet sheets beneath you. You had squirted.

The pleasure didn't let up for a single moment, leaving you trembling. Your orgasm seemed endless; Madara's hand didn't stop, leading you to the overstimulation door with force.

You screamed his name as you tried to get away from his hand, but it was impossible. A slap on your clit stopped you, “Brat, trying to get away from your punishment again?”

"You're so pretty, I wanted to take loving care of you, but because of your behavior I have to put you in your place," he growled as he bit and sucked on your neck. "But if this is not enough, I will have to teach you how to behave in the next few days, you spoiled little woman."

Internally, you regretted having provoked him so much, on the other hand, it would be difficult to walk for the next few days. But, if this was going to be your daily punishment, every time you decided to provoke him, you would gladly take it.

A shaky sigh left you as your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, a smile appearing on your already stained face. The next words that came out of you would send you to your doom, and you knew it, but honestly you didn't care, “You don't know– how much I love listening to... your empty threats”

…

You are so over.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto madara #madara uchiha x reader #madara #madara uchiha #madara x reader #madara smut #+18 only #madara x you #naruto smut

[eevees-hobbies]

Kyojuro's Penchant for Mirror Foreplay - NSFW

Author’s Note: I swear that I am obsessed with other characters that aren’t Kyojuro Rengoku! I like OTHER anime! He’s just…perfect. Like they really made the perfect man and then stole him from us!

Content Warnings: Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut. Foreplay only.

Word Count: 1.1K

Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated! Minors and ageless blogs, please don’t interact. 

---------

Kyojuro Rengoku loves the sight of you, which means you better either share the same sentiment or get comfortable with this reality.  The Flame Hashira could ravish you anywhere—and he does—but he has a special place in his heart for taking you in front of a mirror, your bodies smacking thunderously against one another, your breasts bouncing wildly, and your face smashed against the cool surface of the mirror as he takes you from behind. Yeah, he has a real penchant for mirrors.

One of his favorite things to do is sit you both down in front of a full-length mirror, your back pressed against his firm chest, his bent legs draped over yours in a way that pins them firmly in place in case you even think about trying to squirm your way out of his grasp.

He’ll begin by peppering soft kisses against your shoulders, a low growl emitting from his throat as he takes in your natural scent. He especially relishes in the smell of you if you’ve been participating in activities that made you sweat throughout the day.

While kissing each tender spot on your neck—spots that Kyo knows so well because he’s studied and committed every spot that elicits a groan, tremble, and whimper to memory. His deft fingers sliding your kimono off, your naked frame shivering at the coolness in the air causing goose bumps to raise your skin. As quickly as he tosses the fabric over your heads, his large hands cup your breasts in his palms. He lets out a soft moan against your neck, his mouth latching onto the skin and sucking, leaving a trail of bright, red hickeys.

“I find myself just as enraptured by you as the day we first met, my flame. Gods, you’re so…”

His voice trails off as he pinches your nipples between his calloused fingers, groaning as they harden and pucker just for him.

“Just look at you. I can drink you in all day.” Your eyes look up to your reflections, and you shiver as his hungry, piercing eyes are locked in on yours. 

“K-kyo, stop staring!” 

“Please don’t ask me to do the impossible, my flame.”

You feel his strong legs tense against yours as he uses them to spread your outstretched limbs wider, your glistening sex now reflected at you both. Your face grows hot being so open and exposed—even if this is the umpteenth time he’s placed you in this exact same predicament. 

“I love every inch of you,” he mutters against your skin. You feel his heart pounding against your back and something firmer and slick pressing against the top of your ass.

His hands travel downwards, raking through your pubic hair, two of his fingers pressing gently against your labia and spreading them apart, exposing the fleshy inside of your pussy, your opening already drooling in anticipation for his touch. 

“Look at how ready she is, my love.”

He dips a middle finger into your sex and brings it up to his mouth, tongue flicking past his lips and tasting you like a starving man. 

“F-fuck, you’re delicious,” he lets out a low groan; his now saliva-slicked finger travels back down to your aching cunt, and gingerly strokes your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves feeling vulnerable and wanting. 

Your head falls back to rest on Kyojuro’s shoulder, but his other free hand, which was previously fondling your breast, grips your jaw, pulling it back down so that your eyes are back onto your reflection in the mirror.

“I need you to see what I’m doing to you. I need you to see how beautiful you are.”

His hot breath stirs the tips of your hair that frame your face and tickles your ear. Suddenly, your body feels hotter, and you realize that it’s not only your arousal that’s creating a sheen of sweat on your chest but his too. As his eyes roam over your body, but especially over your cunt, his body temperature shoots up, and precum drips down the length of his pulsating tip. 

He now has two fingers against your clit, rubbing them in swift circular motions, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, forcing you to watch him and how he pleasures your body. 

You dig your heels into the floor, your hips bucking up as the burning in your lower abdomen intensifies.

Kyo’s thighs clamp down onto yours now—the weight and power of them so very apparent, keeping you in place—which would feel torturous and cruel if it were anyone else succumbing you to the immense pressure shooting through your veins.

Every muscle in your body is telling you to get away from the intense orgasm you feel building inside of you. You jerk your hips upward in desperation, but Kyojuro revels in you coming undone, even if that means he leaves you a trembling mess. 

“Hmm, where could you possibly think you’re going, my flame,” his tongue licks at your earlobe, his typically resonant voice deep and husky in your ear. 

Your words catch in your throat, barely able to sputter your pleas, “I c-can’t t-take…!”

“But you will take it. Endure it, my love,” he dips his fingers into your cunt; you both moan, you, because his fingers make you feel full, and him because your sex desperately squeezes at his fingers, and he can only imagine that same sensation on his cock.

His fingers plunge into your gushing pussy, rubbing every inch of your velvety walls, the motions of his fingers making lewd squelching sounds. 

“Touch your needy clit for me,” he commands as the tips of his fingers massage the soft, spongey spot deep in you. 

You whimper as you bring a shakey hand to your clit, the pressure of your fingers against your twitching flesh and Kyojuro’s fingers inside of you, making your moans louder until they’re ringing in both your ears. 

Your eyes find his half-lidded ones in the mirror once again, and you let out a squeak as his piercing and prying eyes make you cum. 

Kyojuro lets you ride the wave on his fingers, cooing words of appraisal in your ear, “that’s my girl.” 

He removes his fingers again and brings them up to his hungry mouth, and sucks your wetness clean from every inch. Once satisfied, he places soft kisses against the knuckles of your hand.

“Hmm,” he growls softly, “you always set me ablaze.” 

As you tremble mercilessly against him, the effects of the orgasm still rupturing through your body, you realize that his grip on you hasn’t lessened; in fact, it feels firmer. As he slides his hand back down to your quivering hole and pulls your face toward his so your mouths connect,  you realize that Kyojuro fully intends to have you both placed in front of the mirror for quite some time.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro rengoku #kyojuro x reader #kny #rengoku kyojuro smut #kny reader insert #rengoku kyojuro

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

you’re jealous that Matty got to kiss your boyfriend on stage and Ross doesn’t know why you’re giving him the silent treatment.

suggestive, not really smut, making out,

You couldn’t believe your eyes, you were on a balcony watching the concert enjoying every bit until Matty’s speech, which was also ok. But then he waved Ross over and they were heavily making out on stage, pulling each others hair and Ross’ hand on Matty’s back made you feel unwell.

The kiss ,which was more of a make out session, wasnt scripted. The Malaysian government canceled the The 1975's performance and they had to leave stage immediately.

You know it was all part of the act. It was something they did to rile up the crowd, to add an edge to the performance. But still, the flicker of jealousy eats at you. You feel foolish for letting it bother you, but the sting was real.

You see him, walking off the stage, laying down his bass.

You’re waiting for him even though you don’t really want to talk to him right now and when he spots you, his eyes are bright with adrenalin. He grins, the smile that usually melts your heart but tonight you turn away, pretending like you didn’t see him.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

You shrug, “let’s just go,” you whisper, foot tapping the floor impatiently.

Ross gets the hint that you don’t want to talk right now but he sure is going to find out what’s bothering you. He guides you through the maze of hallways, the sounds of the concert still echoing in the background.

You join the rest of the band and crew in the lounge area, everyone buzzing with post-show excitement. You sit on the edge of a plush chair, your arms still crossed, and your gaze fixed on some random point on the wall.

Ross keeps glancing at you, his smile faltering slightly. He tries to engage with the others, laughing and joking, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. After a while, he has enough. He stands up, crossing the room with purposeful strides when he takes your hand.

“Think we need to have a little chat,” he says firmly, not waiting for your response as he pulls you up and out of the room. He leads you down another hallway to a small, dimly lit room with a couch. He closes the door behind you, the noise of the others muffled.

Ross raises an eyebrow when you’re still not looking at him, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Silent treatment, hm? What did I do?"

You let out a huff, finally looking at him. "Did you enjoy it?"

“What? Need more than that,” he’s clearly confused.

“Kissing Matty on stage,” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Did you enjoy that?”

Ross’ eyes soften but a teasing smile spreads across his face. “Oh, darling, ‘s that’s what’s bothering you?”

You glare at him, trying to maintain your composure, “yes it is.”

He sits down, holding on to your hand and you don’t pull back, his fucking grin doing a number on you. He tugs you gently until you are standing between his knees, looking down at him.

“Jealous of Matty, are we?” He teases, his fingers lightly tracing circles on the back of your hand. “Never thought I’d see that day.”

“It’s not funny, Ross.”

"Oh, I think it is," he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you really think I’d rather kiss Matty than you?"

You bite your lip, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying how much his teasing is affecting you. He lifts your chin with his other hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your jawline.

"Look at me," he says softly, his voice low and compelling. "You have no reason to be jealous. You know that, right?"

“Do I? Cause you kissed him like you wanted him.”

Ross’s teasing smile softens, but the mischievous glint in his eyes remains. He pulls you down so you’re straddling his lap, his hands steadying you on either side of your waist.

"Love, come on now," he says, his voice a blend of tenderness and amusement. "It’s all for show. You know that."

You cross your arms over your chest, still trying to hold onto your annoyance. "It didn’t look like just a show."

He chuckles softly, his hands moving up to cradle your face. "What can I do to make it better, hm? How can I convince you?"

You try to maintain your stern expression, but the way he is looking at you, the way his hands moved to the small of your back, make it impossible. He tilts your chin up, his lips just a breath away from yours.

"You know it’s only you," he whispers, his voice sincere. "Always."

You lean in closer, your lips almost brushing his. "Kiss me with twice as much want and need as you kissed him."

His eyes darken with desire, and without another word, he closes the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s anything but gentle. It’s filled with urgency, a raw intensity that makes your head spin. His hands move to your back, pulling you even closer as if he can’t get enough of you.

You respond with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss. The frustration and jealousy from earlier melt away, replaced by the familiar, all-consuming presence of him.

“The kiss didn’t only frustrate you?” His grip on your hips tightened, “turned you on, didn’t it.”

You don’t need to say anything, you let the roll of your hips against his say it.

The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel his bulge growing. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.

“Thought so,” he breathes, his voice thick with amusement and desire. "You like seeing me kiss someone else, don’t you? Gets you all worked up."

"Shut up, Ross," you mumble, but the way your body reacts tells him everything he needs to know.

"You’re not as good at hiding it as you think, love," he teases, his hands kneading your flesh, pulling you even closer. "Your body gives you away."

You huff, trying to keep your composure. "You’re such an ass."

You’re rolling your hips once again, applying more pressure. There's not much separating your already drenched core from his erection, only his jeans and your underwear, your skirt already over your thighs, and you sigh from the delicious drag of your pussy over the soft material of his pants. 

His grin widens, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingertips brushing against your skin. "Now, what am I going to do with you, hmm? So worked up because ‘f a little kiss."

"Ross," you whisper, feeling your resolve crumbling under his touch.

"Yes, love?" he asks, his voice a seductive purr.

"Just shut up and kiss me," you demand, your hands gripping his shoulders.

He chuckles, a low, sexy sound that sends shivers down your spine. "As you wish."

His lips find yours again, the kiss fierce and demanding. His hands move over your body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he's memorizing you all over again. You can feel his cock pressing against you, and it only fuels the fire burning inside you.

"God, you're so sexy when you're jealous," he groans, his lips trailing down your neck. "Makes me want you even more."

You double down your efforts, grinding on him in earnest now. Your kisses are faster now, but mostly you just pant and breathe into each other's mouths, moaning when you reach a particularly good spot. There's a growing wet patch in your panties, transfering to Ross’ bright jeans, and you can almost hear how wet you are. His hands only leave your hips to travel up into your loose t-shirt, grabbing your tits and pulling your nipples, just rough enough to make you whine into his lips.

His hands are making dents into your hips, and his lips are sucking and biting against your own. The feel of his calloused hands on yours and the wet kisses he was giving you was absolutely addicting. It makes your mind fuzz into warmth.

“Ross,” you whine, the friction of his crotch not enough anymore.

“Hm?” He asks, looking into your eyes, “what s’ it? Need more?”

You nod and he nods as well, trying to open his belt with you grinding on him. He is just about to pull your panties down when a loud banging noises scares you shitless and Matty’s suddenly in the room.

“There you are, oh-“ he puts his hand on his eyes, “keep it PG you horny fucks, hanns son is looking for you.”

He leaves the room very fast, your head falling onto Ross’ shoulder. He’s kissing your face softly, “m’sorry, love, I’ll make it up to you later.”

You groan in frustration, lifting your head to glare at him. "You always say that."

"And I always do, don’t I?" he replies, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Not the point," you grumble, shifting slightly in his lap. "You were just getting to the good part."

Ross chuckles, his hands still resting on your hips. "I know, I know. But you know we can’t ignore Matty, especially not when Hann’s kid is involved."

You huff, crossing your arms. "Doesn’t mean I have to like it."

He leans in, nuzzling your neck and planting soft kisses along your jawline. "Tell you what, we’ll finish this later. And I’ll make sure it’s even better."

"You better," you mutter, trying to stay mad but failing miserably as his lips work their magic.

He pulls back, grinning at your flushed face. "Promise. Now, let’s go before Matty decides to barge in again."

You slide off his lap, adjusting your clothes while he fixes his belt. As you make your way to the door, Ross grabs your hand, pulling you back for one last kiss.

“Are we a bit better now though?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, as he pulls back just enough to catch his breath.

You nod, unable to suppress a smile. "Much better."

"Good," he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Because I don’t want you to ever doubt how much you mean to me."

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald smut #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald one shot #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann

[flyingwargle]

sakusa emerges from the bathroom in a curtain of steam, towel wrapped around his neck, hair still damp. dressed in old sweats, he slips his feet into the slippers left against the wall, and shuffles down the hallway, head raised at the sight of his partner sitting at the dining room table, engrossed in his nail care.

the apartment, usually comparable to a nightclub with how loud atsumu prefers his music, is quiet. all sakusa can hear is the file running over his nail, with occasional pauses for an inspection before resuming. most things that atsumu does related to volleyball, sakusa noticed, is done in silence. from silencing the crowd when he serves, practicing tosses to the tune of squeaky court shoes and bouncing balls, even doing cardio and weights to the rhythm of his own breath. there are few things that he devotes his undivided attention to, and sakusa is simply glad that he is one of them.

"hey."

he looks up, startled. atsumu has lowered his nail file to gesture at him. "c'mere. lemme do your nails."

“i think they’re fine.” sakusa isn’t as meticulous, but he gives them a trim once a week.

“they’re too long fer my standards. i don’t want ya to chip ‘em.”

he acquiesces and sits across from him, waiting for atsumu to wipe the table down before he places his hands on top. atsumu is gentle as he grasps his right hand, cradles it in his own, and runs his file over the nail.

a comfortable silence blankets them. sakusa, unsure if talking is allowed, settles with watching. his partner's eyes are narrowed, brows furrowed together, lips pressed into the tiniest pout. it’s a familiar expression, often seen at their favorite ramen joint as he contemplates between tonkotsu or shio, juggles between two brands of seaweed to save money or indulge, flip-flops between his playlists to determine the mood. sakusa suppresses a smile, endeared by his level of dedication.

“whatcha smilin’ at?”

atsumu looks up at him. of course he noticed. sakusa replies, “you.”

“what, i got somethin’ on my face?”

“you enjoy this.”

it’s not an accusation; just a mere fact. atsumu returns his eyes back to sakusa’s nails, having moved onto his index finger. “’samu never remembered to cut his nails. durin’ a match, he was blockin’ the other team an’ they got a wipe off ‘im. it hit his finger at a bad angle, an’ it broke his nail. he couldn’t play for a week.” his chuckle is light, full of goading but love. “after that, every time he saw me do my nails, he asked me to do his, too.”

sakusa can imagine it: the twins, perhaps positioned similarly as they are now, running a file over each finger, rough but tender, grumbling and protesting the entire time.

“ya wanna know who was up in my face about carin’ fer my nails? my ma.” atsumu’s fingers are rough against his, as most volleyball players’, but he runs the file gently, with slow, rhythmic movements. “i used ta feel bad that she got two boys instead of a girl. she didn’t have a daughter to dress up or paint her nails.”

he releases his hand, reaches for the other. sakusa remains still, lets him take hold, adjust his hand as needed, and continue. “if it weren’t fer volleyball, i woulda let her paint mine. she never got the chance, though, since we started playin’ in elementary school, an’ now, i still play, and ‘samu can’t ‘cause of work. well, not that he woulda let her paint his nails, anyway.” he pauses, eyes raised toward the distance. sakusa recognizes the expression well: nostalgic, edged with bittersweet longing. “instead, she was always on my case ‘bout keepin’ my fingers in good condition, ‘cause they’re what makes a setter.”

sakusa doesn’t respond, overwhelmed by the memories of all the tosses that atsumu made, often deemed impossible until they weren’t, becoming tosses that allowed his hitters to score. he never falls short of delivering the best, and he expects his hitters to reciprocate.

“there. don’t they look better?”

at his voice, sakusa blinks, glancing down at his hands, the sliver of nail on each finger uniformly shaped and filed. atsumu starts to clean up, retrieving another wet wipe, when sakusa speaks up. “motoya and i used to paint our toenails. he has an older sister, so he’d steal her nail polish. we used to paint them before games.”

“really? didn’t expect ya to be interested in polish. aren’t there a buncha nasty chemicals in ‘em?”

“yeah. motoya couldn’t convince me until high school, and even then, he had to buy a brand that i deemed safe.” sakusa draws in a breath. “i still remember what it is, if you want to try it.”

atsumu hums. “only if ya paint yers with me.”

“sure. it’d be fun.”

“never thought i’d hear ya call somethin’ like this fun.”

sakusa rolls his eyes. “i didn’t hate it when we did it before. no one would see it, anyway, except for us.”

“like it’s our dirty little secret,” atsumu replies with a wink. he laughs when sakusa reaches over to shove his shoulder. “not dirty! a fun, ‘lil secret. ooh, we can get our team colors!”

while he finishes cleaning, sakusa fetches his laptop from his room to look up the nail polish brand and find their website. atsumu joins him a moment later, and by the end of the night, they’ve placed an order for several different colors. as they head to bed, sakusa places a hand on atsumu’s shoulder. “in return, can you do my nails next week?”

“anything fer ya, omi.” and sakusa knows that he means it.

#flyingwargle original #drabble #haikyuu!! #haikyuu drabble #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu #domestic fluff and shit #yeah that's what i called it in my notes #so i'll just leave it as is #seriously i want what they have

[chimchiri]

Some tag ideas! 💕

If you're looking for something longer:

The Tenderness That Lies Between a Foxglove & Her Dame

Something short:

The Foxglove's Dame

I'm good at coming up with imagery, but not so much with titles (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠). I hope you like them, or they at least give you some ideas! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

(reasoning: a dame is a female knight; a foxglove because it was often used in folk potions, also it's highly poisonous & is commonly used for heart failure)

I don't mind longer tags but ohhhh.... they're so pretty.... ( ; ω ; ) I didn't actually realize (even with playing BG3), that dame is a female knight...

I love the image they give... <3 I kinda love that (if I understood correctly) that a foxglove might be poison but still used as medication. It kinds fits both pairings in this regard... Since Randy and Imani fit the medical aspect and the butches... poison each other lmao.

I feel something with Tenderness and Dame would work so well in general, if we're going less specific with medical/herbs..

#you make me wanna use more kaomojis... #they are so underrated #this one's my all time fave: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ #also don't get me wrong about the butches #I want them to ultimately love the tenderness and softness of each other once they trust each other #Wahh I'm... blushing thinking about it.... them.. ahh <3 #'Tenderness' made me think of them....... #ask chim #build a lesbian #The Tenderness She Gives

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @tomoyoo! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

#coattails #not sebaciel so please don't tag as such! thank you! #kuroshitsuji #the backgrounds are just gorgeous.. thank you for your research and dedication to them #the outfits in the first one are amazing! I love Ciel's shirt and Soma's whole ensemble is so cozy yet regal #look at Ciel in the cardigan in the third one though? he is cozy #the expressions are my favorite. they're so animated! just as I imagine them to be.. #I really like Ciel's in the first pic because I imagined him looking annoyed but you actually made him seem curious #and I actually like that more I think it's cute... he really does want to be friends with Soma huh 🥺 #Sebastian's expression in the third picture is great. >:o #he's about to throw hands with an old lady #Edward and Ciel's competitive faces! being silly... I love Them #Ciel needs to get swept up in silly competitions more often I think... #and then the last one!! bonding over tea! it's so amazingly tender 😭 #I don't think I imagined it coming out so calming and gentle... it's so emotional #it makes me want to keep writing! #if you are a Coattails reader I hope you love these as much as I do! #and if you aren't a Coattails reader... maybe these will convince you to become one? 😏 because they are so full of personality! #thanks times a million tomoyoo!! #(I should wait till tomorrow to post but I want to do it now...)

[deimcs]

A NOTE, ATTACHED TO THE TALONS OF A MESSANGER BLUEBIRD.

High Druid, I remember when you told me the story of how I was found: alone in the forest, defenseless against the cold and creatures who roamed freely all around me. And yet no harm had befallen me as I slept, a mere babe who you then took in as if your own. You were always so sure it was Silvanus who protected me that night, who gave me the strength to grow up to see the beauties of this world, the wonders of nature. Now I'm sure I was blessed back then, just so that I could be here, trapped under an endless night sky, nature's song sounding discordant and wrong to my hears and yet, unafraid. I've found so much resilience in my travels, so much faith and bravery. I keep between my fingers the seedlings of a love so pure I feel almost undeserving of it. I hope the Oak Father will watch over me one more time, as I try my best to let it blossom into something as beautiful as his creations.

Thinking of you and the others, always. Yours, Nimue.

#bg3edit #gamingedit #bg3 #baldur's game 3 #wyll x tav #tavedit #wyll ravengard #nimue of eldervine grove #edits #they mean so much to me #i'm not very romantic in the classical sense you know #but for them? i made an exception. for them all i want is love and support and a fairytale love #i think she's the only one of my ocs who sincerely has very little trauma #i just want her to shower wyll in all the love he deserves #you may be mushy and sweet and tender all you want guys #just this once