#Sweet Smooth and Sassy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saekkas · 1 year

Text

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒

summary: in which someone catcalls you and he's there to defend.

includes: isagi, nagi, reo, yukimiya, rin, sae, kunigami, kaiser, karasu, bachira, aiku.

note: i split it into two this time because i honestly can't see them doing anything else.

𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 as if he doesn't know you, even with his hands clearly around your waist. does it to out of love above anything else, it's his way of trying to make you comfortable. will try to be playful with his actions and words but if anyone takes a step towards you? it's on. (you know that, "wear whatever you want, babe. i can fight." that's him atp)

reo, aiku, kaiser, bachira, karasu

the sun's bright overhead, not too blinding, with just the right amount of heat to tan. he sighs in content, the sand underneath his bum perfectly warm as you lather sunscreen on his back. a beautiful beach and a gorgeous girl running her hands down his back? this better be the view he sees at the pearly white gates of heaven.

the hand on his back is smooth and he groans when you gently massage the knots out of his neck. "keep doing that and i might just marry you sooner."

he hears you snort before anything else. there's no other reply and he relaxes once more, leaning his head onto your shoulder. he squints at the sun shining directly into his eyes.

"careful there, hotshot. you might get wrinkles. and i don't want to marry a wrinkly, 68-year-old looking guy."

something blocks the sun from his vision, and he has to blink multiple times, letting his eyes adapt to the change of scenery. he sees you grinning down at him, your face upside down, and the sun's halo shinning behind your head.

"hi, gorgeous." the smile on his face is nothing but awestruck, his eyes molding into the shape of hearts. "missed you and your beautiful face."

there's another snort from you and he yelps at the feeling of cold sunscreen hitting his face.

"me and my beautiful face have been behind you this whole time, loser. who knew you were such a simp."

the droplets on his face are cold but the warmth of your hand rubbing them into his skin makes it all better. his eyes gaze up at your face before trailing down your body, drinking in the sight of your bikini. "you should wear that more often. every day around the house often."

he yelps, scrunching his nose when you playfully bite it.

the touch of your hand on his body is soft and warm, a complete contrast from the rugged sand beneath you both and it has him shivering. "what? can't i compliment my favorite girl?"

he smiles when you plop down on his lap, laughing at the roll of your eyes.

"i'm your only girl," you say, body relaxing into his hold. "well, i better be."

he can only laugh in response, wrapping his hands around your waist and playing with the strap of your top. "i'm only yours, angel. i'm hurt that you'd even think otherwise."

there's a strong gust of wind, blowing sand everywhere as the trees sway in their place. he tightens his hold on you, letting you hide your face in the crook of his neck.

when it subsides, he's quick to place his hand on your cheeks, softly looking into your eyes. "is my baby okay? need me to blow away the sand from your eyes?" his tone is sweet, playful. the pads of his fingers rub circles on your cheeks, and he leans in, placing his forehead against yours. "need me to kiss it better?"

the sound of a high-pitched whistle drowns out your sassy reply of just say you want a kiss and go. a rowdy pair of teenagers stand by the ocean's shoreline, grinning madly when his eyes land on them. their shouts of pretty lady you got there, wanna share? and stop being a hog, let us in on some fun, eh? falls on deaf ears as he looks down at you with a wink.

"no but they're right, eh? i've got such a pretty lady on my lap." his eyes are gentle and calm as the sea, they reflect the worry you feel inside. his hands ground you, picking you up easily to switch positions so that you're covered by his back, safe from prying eyes. "should we go back home for some more fun? what do you say, angel?"

he lays your head down against his chest, letting you hear the gentle thud of his heartbeat. "this beach is overrated anyway. it doesn't even have a lifeguard." he nudges your forehead with his nose, smiling cheekily. "honestly? never mind. that's a good thing because if i were a lifeguard, i'd give you mouth-to-mouth all day long."

his smile widens just a fraction when you giggle, happy to see that your eyes are starting to show their shine.

"you're awful at this," you giggle, pushing his shoulder playfully. "what kind of pickup line was that?"

"oh?" he pretends, widening his eyes as he points at the center of your forehead. you know it's all theatrics, but you fall for it either way. "what's this? do you have a sunburn?"

he trails his finger down your arm and onto your belly, stopping at your thigh when you look at him with confusion.

"what do you mean?" you ask, tilting your head with a small smile. "i put on sunscreen earlier."

he's quick to lean in, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "yeah, you're right. it was just your usual self being hot." the smile on his face widens into a grin when he hears you laugh, and it drives him to nuzzle his nose against your neck.

"there's my angel. or should i say sandcastle? because i want to build my dreams around you."

he leans back, trying to dodge your hand only to laugh as you both fall onto the sand. he looks at you, letting his hand trail down your cheek as you hover above him, matching grins on your faces.

"what was that for?" his laughs have trickled down into low chuckles. he lets himself fully immerse in the sand, propping a hand behind his head. "am i that irresistible, angel?"

"you're such-"

"oh? what's this?" the two boys from earlier watch you with crooked smiles and bad intentions clear in their eyes. they move forward, starting to close in. "should we join in-"

"back off." his eyes are dark, and his voice is low. there's a clear line of annoyance in his tone as he stands, pushing you behind him. his stance is intimidating, clearly protective with the glare set on his usually always smiling face. he quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk appearing on his lips. "or i'll make you."

they back off at his threat, bowing their head to you as they leave.

he holds you in his hands, nuzzling his face into your hair as if he wasn't initiating a fight just a few seconds ago. "let's go, angel. i'll buy us some ice cream." he takes your hand, winking as he playfully taps your bottom.

𝐍𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐘. he's the type of guy who will not realize someone's bothering you, honestly. if anyone asks why, it's because his eyes and entire being is fixated on you, and you only. why should he even care about some random ant on the street? it's just you and him, his baby, his world. nothing else matters in his eyes.

sae, rin, nagi, yukimiya, kunigami, isagi

"it isn't too crowded today." his words are blunt, a matter of fact that you can't help but giggle at. he eyes you, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips at the sound. "we should go in before it's too busy."

he takes your hand by your side, slipping it into his as you make your way into the cat cafe. he hums, scrunching his nose and withholding the need to sneeze as he lets you take everything in. the cafe is spacy, a big section for the cats to play in that's separate from the food corner.

he takes a seat near one of the scratching poles, leaning his back on the seat. his eyes are locked in on you, watching as you squat down to pet a cat on its head, chuckling when you startle as the cat jumps to one of the higher beams.

"you're so mean for laughing." he watches the syllables form on your lips, takes in the color and shape of your mouth. it's only when they form into a smirk that he moves his gaze back to your face. "you promised to play with the cats, remember?"

he only blinks up at you, similar to a cat himself, before sighing at your puppy eyes. nodding his head, he sets onto his feet to follow you deeper into the room, looking at the trail of cats that have begun to follow you both.

there's an empty bench that you lead him to and he sits dutifully, letting you plop a cat onto his lap. his motions are mechanical at best, he pats the cat's head, scratches under its ears, and stays away from its tail, the way you showed him how. anyone who's watching can clearly tell the cat isn't his main attention, it's you.

he feels the cat purr in hips lap and continues stroking it, but his eyes are never far from you. he sees you buying a packet of treats, watches as you squat down to feed the little white kitten by your feet, admires as every other cat suddenly comes swarming in. he chuckles to himself, so wholly focused he doesn't realize that someone's come to sit beside him.

"that's such a pretty kitty, mind if i take her home?"

he doesn't answer. not at first. he simply observes you, from the gracefulness of your movements to the sweetness of your smile. he only tears his eyes away to look at the stranger when he laughs.

"can i help you?" his tone is dull, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. he looks at the stranger for a few more seconds before turning back to you, the cat still peacefully asleep in his arms.

"not at all. i just wanted to know whether your cat's for sale."

he doesn't catch the underlying meaning of the stranger's words. you've got a beautiful persian with discolored eyes in your arms now, cooing the name Oscar at the thing. he tilts his head, wondering whether you'll do the same to him for taking you here today.

"i'd like to take her home. play with her until i'm bored, ya know?"

he watches from the corner of his eyes as the stranger leans back against the bench, a sickening smirk on his face. he realizes belatedly that the stranger's looking at you.

anger simmers in his eyes as he looks at the stranger with his coldest eyes, tone uninterested. "you wouldn't be able to take her. she's a feisty one, needs a man to take care of her. not some sleazy bastard."

he watches with boredom as the stranger clenches his fist. there's a hint of a smirk on his face as the stranger starts to stand up, clearly wanting to fight, only to step on cat vomit.

"oh no, oscar!" you gasp from behind the stranger, looking at the cat in your arms worriedly. "are you okay? you sick, baby?"

he watches in amusement as the stranger turns to leave the cafe, his face red. all the while, you remain blissfully unaware, concern swimming in your orbs as you cradle the cat closer to your chest.

"do you think we can adopt?" he sees the confusion on your face, chuckling at the little tilt of your head. he nods to the cat. "oscar's pretty cute. i like him."

he chuckles when you squeal, smiling happily as you place oscar down to pepper kisses on his face.

2K notes · View notes

toji-girl · 3 months

Note

If you’re having writers block or just bored! How about Toji and/or Kento with a pregnant overdue reader, just being sassy and grumpy. Maybe angst/comfort that maybe they’re having a silly argument, yk? Just need some big buff princess to come comfort me <3

Have a good day ! - 🩰

I am very bored at the moment lmaoo so this came in at the right time, and I haven't written Kento with a pregnant! reader yet! I hope you're having a wonderful day or evening! this is sorta short but still with comort💚

tags: pregnant! fem reader + fluff + angst with comfort

It felt like the worst thing that ever happened to you as you stared down at the empty box of snack cakes you bought last night for a moment like this when your cravings were extra prevalent.

Your eyes shifted to the shiny diamond on your ring finger, the one Kento slipped on two years ago. Now all you wanted to do was rip it off and throw it in the trash for him to see later when he gets home.

He must've taken it this morning when he packed his own lunch, it was something that you did for him early in the morning or late at night but now that you're overdue hitting forty-one weeks pregnant you were at your absolute limit of everything.

You swore your eye twitched as you threw the empty cardboard in the trash feeling your anger flare as you waddled to the living room in search of your phone as hot angry tears gathered in your eyes.

When you found your phone you instantly dialed Kento's number listening to the ringing that didn't last long. His smooth velvety voice came from the other side. "Hi, sweetheart. Are you okay?" He asked.

"N-No! You ate my last cake! Do you know how long I've been waiting to eat that Kento!?" You knew you were being a bit dramatic, well maybe more than just a bit, well over the top is more like it.

He blinked as he stood from his desk knowing that he had exactly twenty minutes to replace what he ate before you started spouting off about divorce papers, you even showed him the single mom budget you wrote out in a flurry of anger and tears last time.

Kento hurried to his car not even offering a polite smile as he usually does to his co-workers, the store was five minutes away which left him with fifteen to get home and feed you himself to make it better.

When he slid the key into the front door twenty minutes later you still sat on the couch unable to get up from your spot. "I'm home baby!" He called out and emerged from the hallway with a worried look.

He made his way over to you with the plastic bag only for you to turn away from him while furiously wiping at your eyes. "I never eat your food! I wanted them so bad and now I don't!" You huffed and pouted.

The couch dipped with your husband's weight as he sat next to you opening the plastic container which grabbed your attention. Your eyes widened with anger as you looked at them and then at him.

"Those are not my cakes."

Kento knew they weren't but of course, it seemed they were out of all of them. "I know, these were the closest ones I could get, they aren't bad." He mused using the plastic fork to scoop some up for you.

He was trying to be sweet and you knew that but your raging hormones wouldn't allow you to feel anything but anger as you took a bite off the fork feeling your son roll and kick ready to come out.

His hand rubbed your swollen belly as he continued to feed you, his eyes soft with guilt which in turn made you start to bawl. "I'm sorry. I know I was a bitch and I shouldn't have treated you that way."

With that out of the way, you looked at him as he put the cake down to wipe away your tears with his thumbs. "You aren't anything but glowing, give yourself some slack. You're growing our baby and you're well overdue so it makes sense, I don't hold it against you baby."

You wrapped yourself around Kento the best you could sobbing into his shoulder, when you pulled back to look at him a trail of snot and tears bridged from your face making you gag and pout again.

He stared at you as he cleaned up your face and fed you the last cake which you accepted gratefully after smothering him with soft kisses in an apology for how you've been acting which he accepted quickly.

#💌incoming #tw: pregnancy #Kento x reader #Kento Nanami x reader #kento x reader #kento fluff #jjk x reader #kento nanami #kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk kento #jjk nanami

299 notes · View notes

peachesofteal · 9 months

Text

The Sun - Epilogue

Sassy series

Simon Riley/female reader 1.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI explicit sex, brief breeding kink. PTSD. dad!Simon Riley. Fluff. Pregnancy/babies. Hospitals. Little epilogue for Sass and Simon.

“Alright lad, ready?”

Theo nods, hopping from one foot to another before gazing up at Simon, little hand clasped firm in the much bigger one. He’s brimming with energy, overflowing with happiness and giggles, besides himself, thrilled at finally being here.

The elevator dings, doors sliding open to reveal a cream colored hallway, and Simon crouches in front of his son, knees popping on the descent, body groaning beneath the pressure added to his hips.

“Now, mum is really tired, alright? So, we can’t be yelling and carrying on.”

“Inside voice.” Theo’s brow smooths into a serious expression, and he can’t help the smile that quirks his lips to the side inside the mask.

“That’s right.”

“And my sister?” His eyes widen with excitement, and Simon nods.

“She’s probably sleepin’ but we’ll see.”

“Mr. Riley, it’s good to see you again.” Your doctor nods politely, and he does the same, more focused on the little black screen opposite you, where he’s going to see an image of the baby, your baby, his, in a matter of moments.

It flickers alive as the tech places the wand against your belly, and the harmonic, hypnotizing sound of the heartbeat fills the room.

His shoulders immediately ease, the grip he has your hand relaxing too, and he can’t help leaning forward to press his mask covered lips against yours.

“See?” He gestures to the screen. “Heartbeat.” You huff out a half-relieved laugh and wipe your cheeks. You don’t have to say anything, he knows. Knows why you’ve been up in the middle of the night, unable to sleep. Knows why you’ve been anxiously smoothing your hands over your skin, feeling for kicks and movement. Knows that you’re terrified, tormented. Knows that you’re clinging to the good things. Theo. Him. This baby. That you’re trying, and it’s hard.

“Baby is measuring perfectly, and everything looks normal.” Your doctor says, before pausing. “Would you like to know the sex?”

“Yes.” You both answer at once, and she smiles, taking the wand from the tech’s hand and positioning it on a different side of your body, pausing for a moment to type something into a keyboard before looking back at you.

"Looks like baby Riley is a girl.”

“Mum!” Theo half whispers, half yells when Simon opens the door, and he reaches for the back of his jumper in a hurry, trying to prevent him from taking off into a run and launching himself at where you lay in the hospital bed.

“Hey bug.” You smile, waving him over, trying to shuffle to the side to make room for him. “Come here, baby. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Is it my sister?” He can hardly contain the whisper, and Simon lifts him to the foot of the bed before coming around the other side.

“Let me take her so you can get him comfortable.” You nod, trading one child for the other, motioning to the side of your hip for Theo to scoot over to.

“Can I hold her?”

“Of course, but can I have a hug first?” Theo pats you like he’s consoling you, which Simon finds somewhat amusing, before latching on.

“Daddy said I have to be gentle with you and baby sister.”

“That’s very sweet.” You look up at Simon as Theo wraps his arms around your neck, and he smiles down at you. You’re glowing, even though you’re exhausted, having just finished a sixteen-hour labor and a tumultuous birth experience.

“Sit right here, that’s good.” You position your grip under his. “Alright, now dad is going to put her right here, and we have to support her head, okay? She’s so small, remember.” He nods very seriously, and then Simon lowers the little girl into his arms, carefully.

When he pulls back, and stares down at the picture of you, his wife, and his son, holding his daughter, it’s almost too much. His thumb swipes under his eyes quickly, trying to erase the evidence of his emotions, but he can’t control them when you kiss Theo’s head and then whisper:

“Theo, this is your sister. Josephine.”

“Ready?” His face hovers above yours, watching your expression, waiting for anything, anything at all, that would tell him that this isn’t a good idea. Or that’s he’s dreaming.

“Yes.” You nod with no hesitation, fingers skating down his abdomen to encircle his cock, notching it against the heat of your cunt. “Please, Si. I’m ready. I want to have your baby again.” He picks his pace back up, body pressing against yours over and over as you cry out.

“Bloody hell.” He groans into your neck, tongue lashing against your salt slick skin when he pushes deep, kissing the depths of your body, burrowing himself against your cervix. Your hips jolt, raising to meet his movements, desperate whines falling from your lips, small pleas for ‘more, faster, more-‘ being gasped to the ceiling as your back arches.

“Sweet girl.” His thumb presses against your clit, playing it like second nature. “Come for me, let me feel it.” You nod feverishly, eyes tight and brows high, mouth half open with slack while your pussy clenches around him. It’s heaven, perfection, the only place he ever wants to be, and he nearly comes when he thinks about this attempt taking, your body swollen with him in a few months, breasts heavy, his girl, his wife, having his baby, again.

“Fuck.” You moan, and he thrusts harder, deeper.

“Gonna give you another baby, Sass. Gonna-“ he grunts when you react, tightening around him “fill you up, over and over until it takes.”

“Please, fuck. Please.” You whine, and then you explode into an orgasm, body shivering beneath his, knees pressed up and out while he plunges deeper and deeper, slamming himself to the hilt and coming against the curve of your womb, locking his hips against yours to keep it all in.

Simon doesn’t sleep that night.

He stays up, watching you and the baby, memorizing her face over and over and until he’s sure it’s burned into the back of his eyelids. He sits as close as he can, keeping a palm on your thigh, your hand, comforting you with soft words and gentle touch every time you jerk awake in a panic.

It’s not been an easy thing for either of them, being back in a hospital.

In this hospital.

But you’re strong, stronger than him, resilient, and smart. You’ve handled it, like you didn’t have a choice, and he’s so, so proud, he's been incredibly enchanted by you every moment of this entire process.

You’re everything. His entire world. His entire reason. Without you, he's rudderless. He's lost.

This hospital likes to remind him of that. Likes to dredge up the things he's tried to blot from his mind, the memories of your cries, your screams. The aftermath.

He strokes the metal of his wedding band.

“I will love and honor you all the days of my life.”

He can still hear it, your voice, saying the words. His own, saying them back. His vow, for eternity. His promise.

Those are the words he focuses on, when the others get too loud.

"I got you."

You’re the sun.

Josephine, or JJ, as you’ve been calling her, cries out, and he reaches into the bassinet, pulling her into his arms without hesitation.

“Hey little girl, you’re alright. I’m here.” He coos, rocking her against himself, walking away from the bed towards the window. She fusses in his arms for a while until he gets the bottle right, and then quiets immediately, drinking half of it until her eyes are slipping closed again.

His lips graze the top of her head, carefully, before placing her back on her little mattress, and your hand reaches for his in the low light.

He leans forward, kisses you in the same spot, lips against your forehead, easy and sweet.

“Si?” You whisper, not really with it, but awake enough to realize he had been up, and he lowers his head onto the bed bedside you, staring over to where your own eyelids are drooping back asleep.

He presses your pulse point to his mouth, dragging a kiss along your wrist languidly, soaking in every second.

“I’m here, Sass. I got you.”

#peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

551 notes · View notes

inupibaldspot · 2 months

Text

For me:

a love story with Geto would most probably be very smooth sailing. Geto, who is probably slightly rough, gets into fights which gojo starts , makes sassy, mean remarks to others with Gojo would completely do a 180 after he meets you. He is so obedient. To the rest of that mass, he is a tall guard dog, always hands on your waist with sharp eyes but as soon as you turn to face him, he pulls off the sweetest look as if he was melting in your presence. “what is it my sweet lady?” <3

But Gojo??? It’s a rollercoaster. You and him would probably have opposite personalities which would never mesh really well, always him teasing you with you rolling your eyes. Shoko thinks she never got a peaceful day when you two are in the same room. But eventually, you get to look past things and realize you didn’t actually know Gojo; and I think that’s when you gradually fall for him.Falling slow, but gently as if nature is simply running its course.

And with nature running its course, the first thing Gojo does when he realize he may be in love with you, he starts to date around. He can’t believe he is in love you and will do his best to deny that, that’s destroys you. So when you also start seeing someone else, bratty lil Gojo becomes jealous and ensue shouting at each other which eventually leads to confessing to each other and making out in the rain. “I’m the strongest yet I have completely surrendered myself to you, and that I didn’t want to admit…” ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .

#quick drabbleeeee #eve.rambles #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #geto imagine #Geto x reader

188 notes · View notes

cvlutos · 1 year

Text

"Kindergarten Teacher"

| 01.30.23 | 1.3K | Rated PG |

DILF!NRC Staff X GN!Reader

T.Manor.Notes: @hideousvoid Void. I blame you cause im slightly a Mozus Fan.

You work at your local elementary school, a simple kindergarten teacher. Taking care of kids and children all day and doing your job well. Well enough until you catch the attention of five handsome bachelors.

♡ DIRE CROWLEY

One very energetic five-year-old son, Keiran, who is often getting into trouble. Who is also very spoiled by his father, who you assume is only in his 30s. He’s weird, always the very first parent to drop his son and the very last parent to pick up his son. Who is always kind though sometimes inconveniences you, by arriving later than he’s supposed to. His ex-wife sometimes retrieves their son, and she absolutely despises him. Won't hesitate to speak badly about him, though she seems kind enough.

“Hey-llo!”

His voice is loud and sucks you from your thoughts as you turn from the toy section and dusting off your hands. Dire Crowley has a grin across his lips, the usual gold mask covering the upper half of his face. You aren’t sure why he wears it, nor have you ever asked. You glance at the clock, 30 minutes late, again. He notices the restrained sigh and gives a sheepish grin. “I know. I know—”

You move across the room, gently shaking Keiran’s shoulders, seeing as he fell asleep. “Ill make it up to you. Promise.” The boy mumbles and shifts, before waking up with a soft yawn. “[Name]~ You know i will. How bout dinner?” You usher Keiran towards the door, holding his hand and giving the man a knowing look. You can’t go on dates with parents. “I know that look. Promise. It’s completely professional.”

You watch Keiran, half-asleep, latch to his father’s leg, before looking at the man before you. He has an earnest smile and you sigh. “Only if it’s professional. Nothing else.”

Dire is dedicated. One professional date turned into two, then two turned into five. Which was quickly spread cause of Keiran telling the next door classroom teacher, who teases you profusely about liking the elusive man. While Crowley is more than pleased and very public about him pursing you, while remaining “professional”.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ DIVUS CREWEL

He has a sassy and quite smart six-year-old daughter, Belle, who many call Bonnie. She’s a real chatterbox and quite popular amongst her peers with impeccable fashion taste like her father. Who is very intimidating and quite punctual. Never a moment late. He’s extremely intimidating, yet most of the teachers gather for his appearance. He’s absolutely gorgeous. Same with his ex-wife, who is also quite intimidating and snappy, like it’s amazing just how well they look together even if they aren’t together.

“[Name].”

Divus’ voice seems to echo as several other kindergarten teachers watch the scene unfold. You kneeling, helping Bonnie fix her dress which some boy ruined, that had her crying, while Divus had his usual unreadable scowl. “Uh—yes.” You’ve seen other students get scolded as if children by Crewel and the last thing you needed is to be dragged to hell and back for his daughter crying. He doesn’t respond, kneeling beside you, and pulling a black and white handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his daughter’s tears.

“We save our tears for private and so none receive satisfaction.” He speaks to his daughter, smoothing out the expensive material of her ruined dress, before turning his head to you once she stopped crying.

“I would like to invite you to an event with me and Belle. She really favors you.”

You look at the girl, watching her curls bounce as she nods, a pretty smile spreading across her lips. “I want you to go.” And how could you refuse?

You smile in return, “Id love too.”

Divus is the definition of perfect and an absolute gentleman. After the event with the father-daughter duo, both treat you extremely differently at work. Bonnie was far nicer than she was before and always asks you to visit, while Divus takes a moment to greet you and speak to you, much to the other teachers dismay. Sometimes on the rarest occasions, you’ll find the freshest bouquet of red roses on your desk, which only meet Bonnie’s giggles when you ask.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ MOZUS TREIN

Now he already has two daughters, but you see him when he comes to pick up his five-year-old grandson, Edward, and his eight-year-old granddaughter, Ana, who’s in a different classroom. Mozus makes a special appearance, always arriving posed and perfect, an older man, who only smiles at the sight of his grandchildren. You’ve spoken to him once about bullying that was happening and he applauded you for helping his grandson, who was an absolute people pleaser.

“Excellent job. I thank you for having enticing programs. I wish half the teacher taught as such.”

Delicate finger picked and plucked at the invisible dust of his refined coat, before flicking him off and looking at you lazily, almost like a cat. You give a sheepish smile.

“Of course—“

“But I do have some adjustments if you don’t mind me sharing,” he trails off, a thin smile across his lips as he watches Edward shove his school work into his bag, a chocolate chip cookie hanging past his lips as he tries to be fast. “Tea. Sometime this weekend if your free. To better enrich your curriculum.”

“I—okay.”

You aren’t into older men, at least, you shouldn’t be. Yet he has the most poise and grace. He never raises his volume, never yells, and finds tactful ways to show his own displeasure. He’s also extremely smart, giving the most useful tips for your lesson plans, all while petting his cat, Lucius, who merely stares at you.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ ASHTON VARGAS

He’s a lot. And unlike the other teachers, you never see him pick up his son, Adam, never once. It’s only his ex-girlfriend, who is a very quiet and put together woman. You ran into Ashton while at the gym, whether for yourself or a friend, for moral support. He noticed you before you noticed him. Yelling at you with a wide grin, while surround by men. If you hadn’t known better, you’d assume he was gay.

“Ah! [Name]! Just the person I wanted to see.”

You have an uncomfortable grin while he chats away. Questioning you about his ex-girlfriend. If she was seeing someone, if she brought that scrawny dude Johnathan with her when she came. (Which she has, and he was extremely sweet, plus he and Ashton’s Ex have been together for nearly 3 years. But you’re not gonna tell him that.) He grilled you for a good 30 minutes before stopping and looking your over.

“Actually. In better lighting, you are quite attractive.”

After that, you could not get rid of him. He was adamant on picking up his son, who was just as confused as you and his mother. While Ashton flirted with the other ladies, before sending you a wave and enormous smile and going on his merry way.

══════ ♡ ══════

♡ SAM

The youngest man out of all the parents with a daughter, Tia, who is just the sweetest, while also insanely odd. She spends most of her time alone and doing her own thing. And oddly, you’re the only person she smiles at. And often bring you homemade gifts. While her father scares you every time he visits, always popping up from the shadows with a grin.

“Heyy~”

He waves, one of the later parents, always busy and just back from working, which you know from talking with Tia. Who’s also as silent as her father, appearing randomly all prepared to go. Before stopping and waving at you, with a very happy goodbye, which surprises Sam a lot, but nonetheless chuckles.

You run into in his shop for a quick snack after work, which turns into you spending nearly two hours with them. Since Tia needed homework help, and was insistent you help and not her dad, cause ‘he liked making up stuff’ which Sam never denied. You end up spending a lot of time with them.

══════ ♡ ══════

“Now. Who would you choose?”

1K notes · View notes

aliidarling · 27 days

Note

Hey Alii!!! I love your writing, can I please request devil! Ghost face (the raining blood skin? I'm sorry if you don't know what I'm talking about) and the reader is cold so he gives us his cloak for the trial 💋 (take your time, no rush ❤️)

DANNY JOHNSON x fem!reader

summary: you spawned on ormond and it’s very cold :( good thing danny is here to warm you up!

warnings: just some fluff, whiny danny, the usual bloody dbd stuff, sort of established relationship

short n fluffy :3 if u wanted smut sorry!! you can request it again and i’ll try my best

being spawned on ormond was like a punch in your face, a loud haha you shouldn’t of dressed like a slut. in your defense, you were just trying to look pretty for this trial. you had on a denim plated skirt with a fitted tee shirt. on your feet was cozy leg warmers and some chunky sneakers that had little charms on the laces. courtesy of yourself, you loved looking cute!

but it was like the entity had something out for you, because the second you opened your eyes after the fog has disappeared, you were met face first with a snowball. you blinked in surprise, gasping and stumbling back at the force.

steve stood there with the usual cocky grin on his face, wielding a bunch of snow balls in his hands. “hey!” you hissed, hugging yourself to warm your body temperature. he rolled his eyes and walked off towards the closest generator, grumbling about how no one was fun anymore. dick.

you eventually found a generator to work at, thankfully one without that prick, and kept yourself busy. you connected the wires without making any mistakes. you noticed you hadn’t heard a heartbeat or any sounds of anyone being downed. was it a stealth killer? micheal?

you heard the crunch of leaves behind you and immediately turned around, flinching at the scare. there stood danny in his devil face costume, blood all over him. the momentary fear that had washed over you slowly subsided.

“who’s blood is that?” you frowned, parting from the generator. you could feel him smiling under the mask as he quickly crouched up behind you, giving you a hug from behind. he giggled into your shoulder and cuddled into you, smothering blood over you. the warmth of his cloak made you relax.

“don’t worry about that, baby. just know it’s just us two here, and no one is gonna interrupt us.” his words are smooth as you feel his large hands wrap around your waist, rubbing the portion of your midriff your shirt revealed.

“you must be so cold, huh?” his plastic mask rubs against you. your hand goes to pet his head, nodding.

“the entity scammed me.” you said with a bitter tone, leaning back into his chest as you continued with the generator. you didn’t really know why you were still doing it, the hatch was probably waiting around the map somewhere for you.

“lemme warm you up.” another giggle leaves him as he hugs you tighter, clinging onto you tightly. he was so clingy with you, always wanting to be all over you like a puppy. a chihuahua, if you consider how aggressive he could be.

you feel his fingers creep under your shirt and you immediately swat at them, glaring at him like a scolding mother. he whines and pulls away, huffing stubbornly. “what’s your problem?” he says with a sassy tone.

“too cold to get dirty, danny.” you say firmly, going back to working on the wires. you hear a rustle behind you and next thing you know something black is covering your head for a few seconds, before eventually he succeeds in dressing you in his robe. you blink in surprise and look down at yourself, a smile tugging at your lips. he had given you his robe to stay warm. you can’t help but smile and turn to him, lifting his mask to press a sweet kiss against his lips.

he immediately kisses back, whimpering as you start to part. his hands grasp your waist and pressing you flush against him, leaning back. “don’t pull away.” the whiny tone doesn’t go unnoticed, especially with how he was holding onto you so tightly. rolling your eyes, you reluctantly straddle the man and press more kisses along him.

“so needy.” you scold playfully. you feel him smile against your lips as he sneaks his hands under your(his) robe and glide across your cold skin. he wanted to crawl under your robe and huddle up against you, hug you tightly and cling like a spider-monkey. he just wanted to eat you alive at times, smother you with affection, sometimes strangle you. his brain was all funky whenever it came to you.

#danny johnson #ghost face x reader #ghostface #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #danny johnson x reader

78 notes · View notes

taevisionceo · 2 years

Link

TAEVision 3D Mechanical Design Automotive Chevrolet BelAir 1957 Hardtop ( Chevy ) (View Front - Side) "Sweet, Smooth and Sassy!" ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Pinterest ▸ TAEVision Engineering on Google Photos

Data 530 - Nov 15, 2022

#TAEVision #engineering #3d #mechanicaldesign #automotive #CHEVROLET #BelAir #CHEVROLET BelAir #hardtop #Chevy #Sweet Smooth and Sassy

1 note · View note

ladythornofrivia · 6 months

Text

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part Six)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader reborn as lady greenstar. it was no secret as aemond’s admiration grew.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, stalking, jealousy, virginity loss, size kink, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and Aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader)

a/n: this chapter is ONLY in Aemond’s pov. ooc aemond, but still is a cold-stone, charming prince we all love. Thank you for being patient with me; i took so long to write. I used a reference from Nanami’s line from JJK—he said “Being a child isn’t a sin.” And the trailer of HOTD S2 is 😍😭🔥❤️‍🔥👏

Chapter Six: The Rebirth of Lady Greenstar

~Aemond’s POV~

Aemond couldn’t stop gazing at you in your sleep, no matter how often he saw your chest rise and fall with soften breath drawing past through your lips—sinful lips, droning out soft noises, he recalls the day where he undressed you. Moles engraved on your lower lips and neck, and several others spotted on the collarbone. Some at the back. The shape on your smooth legs sprawled and tucked at turns you rotated whilst in dreamland—he recalled your skin marked in red outline of a dragon on your right thigh, and a green dragon on your whole backside.

Slender arms rested beneath your head despite the ivory pillows are there, all fluffed and cleansed with new ivory sheets, aglow under a yellow sun.

Quenched as he is, Alicent’s word stung; his hands and teeth clenched. “But the truest of your heart—your love must be hidden in secret,” she told him once.

He knew what she meant.

Studying the histories of the Targaryens—of those who had children out of wedlock for an escapism in horrid and loveless marriages assigned from previous kings are often ridiculed and reigned in contempt, in curse—bastards.

He hated bastards. Lucerys and Jacaerys are one—they claimed to be as Velaryons throughout—and on a night of Laena’s passing, Aemond, at the age of three-and-ten claimed Vhagar and lost his eye, that damned good-for-nothing bastard—a Targaryen pretender who was out of Rhaenyra’s womb, bathed and born with brown locks and pug-like nose and sneering features—Velaryons tend to have delicate and soft features, but still manly in their own way like Targaryens do, but not Strong. House Strong are rugged and filthy.

But—

With your case, as a newcomer, as an outsider, he knew you don’t belong in this world, considering how you tried to avert Aemond with diversion. You’re neither a royal nor a bastard. Though punishment can be given to anyone in the royal court or outside the Red Keep. Anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms. Though of course Dorne accepted bastards.

Aemond’s intrusive thoughts overcame. A battle of restrain lashed out, when the prince approached towards the lush your sleeping figure. Your breath steadied at the rise and fall on your hilled breasts; the torn and worn out nightwear severely took a toll on the guards yanking you as if you’re a fragile doll.

If one’s act of taste that considers as a sin, then it’s a sin I shall give.

His head leaned forward, face closing to yours, tip of his tongue tingled as his left hand clasped on your head, the other rested on your waist as his tall body brought down on the bedside atop of your sleeping form. He had memorized, and counted the moles—once, as he lay himself to sleep in his quarters on the night after he first saw you. There’s a theory that moles came from a past lovers planting a kiss on empty spots. Aemond could offer you more. His tongue slithered on the soft line of your neck, and brought back to pucker with balmy smack, leaving a small trace of string silava coated on your now bruised skin.

Squirming underneath him, Aemond satisfied, humming, his right hand snaked on your waist, then fondling your left breast, pinching the taut nipple as he devoured the scent on you as he hungrily kissed your jawline and slope on your neck.

Earning a moan from you, Aemond spurred, his fingertips roamed on your breast and lowered down to your thigh, kneading. Your face—your lips—directly aligned to his, drawing a quiet sigh.

Adrenaline rushed in his veins, his body grew hot, trousers compacted with his engorged cock. He couldn’t get enough of you. The taste of you, your beauty and your fiery heart. He envisioned of what your face would be like, your voice would sound like, if you’re awake during the pleasurable intercourse or under his tantalizing fingers and mouth.

Countless footsteps skittered across the hall nearby. And so, Prince Aemond sat on the chair with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on the armrest behind the wall, spying on the maidservants passing by the opened door without batting an eye, maids chatting as always.

A hushed sigh of relief drew from his lips. By then, he looked at you one last time, spotted a love bite on your neck, before ushering himself out to go at the hall and disappeared with his lips, licking—tasted and lingered upon more ravaging thoughts of you.

~~~

Into a wide-ranged room, roofs decorated like constellations and metal works of the orrery, and the broad balconies garbed in light and ruffled curtains swaying. The council planned to use this room to divert the newcomer and persuade her to join hands and swore oath.

They have hoped that a new change of environment will appease her. Aemond couldn’t blame her; the Council room is filled with discrimination and accusations, despite his interest on becoming a sovereign—unlike Aegon who he rather be a sovereign in between someone’s legs at the brothels upon the Streets of Silk.

Regardless of Alicent’s cautionary, both Green sons lurked and eavesdropped on the members, who are more frantic and belligerent in comparison to previous meeting.

“She’ll be here,” Aegon teased. “Ser Arryk is coming to fetch her. Poor girl lost her way in the Red Keep.”

Aemond folded his hands behind his back, abiding, cold and calculating, and twice as tall, passed from Aegon’s stature.

“How long will she last, I wonder? With all the skills, beauty and remarks she has gotten,” Aegon emphasized on the word “beauty” as sarcasm, “do you think she’ll survive, even after the council? This is no easy task, of course, residing in Red Keep. The Blacks are here again. And Daemon didn’t come here alone.” His head jerked, indicating towards Rhaenyra. “I don’t suppose you’re aware, but the poor girl might risk her life again. Shocking how the Blacks and Greens weren’t showing hostility despite our shared past.”

Aemond watched within the presence of the council—Blacks and Greens united—without bloodshed. A bizarre sight to behold.

The doors creaked, and entering (y/n), following Ser Arryk.

The Blacks and Greens gaze with watchful eyes, tension rose as (y/n) proceeded closer and sat down on a vacant chair nearby the entrance door but struggled; Ser Arryk assisted her and perched down as she thanked him, returning a similar unnerving gaze back, unyielding even when appearing fragile. Her posture eased; she glimpsed at the decorated ceilings and tables with constellations.

It appears she likes it, Aemond thought.

Until her eye landed on Aegon and Aemond himself with her elbows rested on the left armchair, back slouching, eye concentrated intensely.

Aemond’s heart skipped that she faced him, in devoid of sheepish demeanor. And there, she smiled.

“Shall we get started?” Rhaenyra insisted.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop gawking at Aemond and Aegon.

“My lady,” Rhaenyra called out firmly, and (y/n) snapped back to actuality. (Y/n) eyed on everyone, then looked down onto her hands on the armrests.

Silence ensued. Then (y/n) requested to their introduction since they came to know (y/n)’s. All have introduced themselves—Hightowers and Targaryens. When Green brothers are finally introduced, Aemond spotted (y/n)’s lips curled a little; her dimple dented. But overall, she seemed happy throughout the introduction.

“First, we must address regarding to House Blackwood,” Otto drew the scrolled parchment, and distributed to (y/n) through the sentinel. “This letter is sent from a raven at this morrow.”

Sleeking her wavy strands—long curtain bangs back, she read the lines in the parchment. “Is this supposed to be a joke or something?”

“House Blackwood demands for your head, since they accused you of murdering Remon Blackwood,” Otto said. “Anything to have say in your defense?”

Tongue in cheek, (y/n) chortled, aloud for everyone to hear.

“Does killing others amuse you?” Daemon challenged. “Or would you rather a quick execution by a dragon for your childish act?”

“I’m sorry did you say dragons?”

Daemon unanswered her question, but she knew he wasn’t lying.

(Y/n) recollected herself. “It’s three knights that chased me, remember? They killed Ser Remon Blackwood long before they chased me. I used the blade he gave me, not the large swords.”

“There are other reports that the three knights are imposters,” one claimed. “That their faces aren’t quite as recognizable. And their armor and breastplates are entirely soft—a forge through cheap metal. Their blades and blunt and uncared for.”

“Must’ve been the rapers from the North.”

“Ser Criston, what was the weapon she was holding when you first found her in the woods? Was it a sword?”

“A fine blade that belongs to Remon Blackwood,” Criston replied.

(Y/n) sat there and released several guttural coughs, which got their attention.

“Are you alright?” Alicent concerned.

“I’m fine,” (y/n)’s voice croaked. Alicent ordered the servant to fetch the hot tea, to which you drank after being served.

“Has she drank the Milk of the Poppy,” Otto asked the Maester.

“Apparently she hasn’t drank any since this morning; deeply fell asleep.”

Relaxing in the chair, (Y/n) tossed her hair over to the side before she took out two objects again from the pockets on her nightwear and placed it onto her lips, and blew out smoke, but away from their direction.

“What are those objects that you possessed?” Daemon asked.

Crossing her legs, (y/n) blew out another smoke, her eyes glazed darkly, her demeanor changed as if it was an illusion. “This is the cigarette, and this is a lighter.” She demonstrated the items again, but only she’s precisely shown the golden lighter, carved in detailed dragon, and fire lit from the metal.

“Where are you really from?”

(Y/n) clicked the lighter shut. “I already told you last time,” her voice crossed.

“Are you a slave?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) is taken aback, brows scrunched, bewildered.

“Everyone saw the markings on your body,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“No, I got these since I was young. Let’s cut to a chase. What do you want?”

The members of the council baffled at your straightforwardness.

“Since we’re here, I don’t intend on wasting anyone’s time,” she resumed, her voice hardened. “What do you want?” Her voice darkened.

“Are you aware to why you’ve been summoned in the council?” Otto questioned.

“Oh please, do enlighten me,” (y/n) said in sarcasm.

“Lady Rhaenyra has planned on you becoming a knight—you both saved the children and experienced in combat during the battle outside the Red Keep.”

(Y/n) laughed again, though not as cruel. In anger, the knight trudged towards her, but she stopped the knight with her left foot stomped on his breastplate, revealing the red dragon tattoo, your hand ran through your luscious hair; Aemond stared for so long that he ignored his surroundings. He found himself yearning to taste you again.

“At ease, good sir,” Alicent ordered. The knight backed off and your leg lifted down, crossing over to the other.

“Why refuse?” Rhaenyra challenged. “Do you wish to be executed from false charges?”

“You misinterpret me, my lady. Do you want to know what happens when you put a woman as part of the Kingsguard? People will riot. No man would accept a lady knight because they don’t want to be ashamed of not holding much power.” With her elbows propped, the upper body slouched, leaning forward, intensely gawking at their familiar mortified faces. “If anything that you should be worry about,” her index finger pointed outside behind (y/n) at the open archway; behind her is the town of King’s Landing, “it’s the people. People hold you on the highest regard; anything you do, they’ll use it against you. You have dragons,” she reasoned, counting on her fingers, “legions of army and holds the utmost reputation—everyone knows your name and your appearances distinguished from others. If laying a single mistake, people will make an excuse to take the opportunity to tarnish—even bring hell to Westeros. If you put two and two together, it’ll be difficult for people to accept as much as I want to help,” (y/n) cautioned.

Unused cigarette wafted in the crisp air—and (y/n) stomped on it with her fingers.

“As a matter of fact, I couldn’t agree more,” Jason Lannister encouraged. “Ladies are not suitable to guard for the ascendance of a potential heir. Women take longer to dress than men, after all they’re made to be dulled for a tedious hobby.”

Aemond disagreed, otherwise.

“Why save them?” Rhaenyra asked.

(Y/n) blinked.

“Being a child isn’t a sin,” (y/n) said, solemn. “They don’t deserve to what they’ve gone through.”

“Never thought you find this miserable,” Daemon said.

“I have soft spot for children and those who are broken.” She darted her eyes to Aemond once more.

Rhaenyra sighed, her hands enveloped, glancing at neutral Daemon next to her, poised. “We shall find an alternate option for you to abide here in King’s Landing—tasking the vital aspects of being part as the Red Keep’s vessel—everyone has their own role to play, knowing their place, and you’re no exception.”

Refusing, (y/n) inclined back into a relaxing position. “Figures,” (y/n) muttered, posture sank into the chair.

“I know it’s difficult to accept, but should you stay, you’ll learn a thing or two of the culture and the history, everyone around you included,” Rhaenyra suggested. “And we shall do the same to yours. Though the customary traditions in Westeros must steady. But it won’t mean you’re limited from freedom at the assets of your personal values and desires and expression.”

“It would be the wisest,” Rhaenyra added. “People won’t know and comprehend this, but us, despite you’ve given simplistic explanation of your vast side of the story.”

(Y/n) pondered; fingers tucked on her chin.

“They’ll never accept me,” (y/n) lectured, locks undulated in steady motion. “No matter how you vouch or reason for me, they won’t adapt; I’m just an outsider. It wouldn’t be as upsetting once I get hurt. They won’t understand yours or my intention if I decide to stay here. Or worse.”

“But there’s still a chance for you to prove yourself, allow your presence to be seen and heard,” Alicent coaxed.

Rhaenyra contemplated. “Or perhaps you could join us at Dragonstone,” she proclaimed, rather blithe. “Of course you’re free to choose.”

Aemond disliked the idea of you residing in Dragonstone as much as Alicent, based on displeasure etched onto their delicate and finely features, green as envy—as Hightower’s colored banner that summons war, strong gazes projected towards Rhaenyra like a serpent in the shadows.

Gritting and grinding her teeth, (y/n) tongue clicking. “No, I’m not staying in Dragonstone, either. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, consider how I “arrived”.”

Aemond’s breath unwinded. Flush smothered your cheekbones. Stared long enough until Aegon elbowed him in a single tap, as a reminder to stay focused.

“I’m afraid it’s far from possibility, since you came along way from the other vast side of your world. In the meantime, you must reside here in Westeros, in King’s Landing. We may never know your intentions, but it’s best to keep it simple and quick. Do tells us what you want.”

Refusing, (y/n)’s face turned away, sheepish.

“You want gold? Reputation?” Rhaenyra insisted, to which you answered “no”.

“Do you wish to possess a dragon?”

“First of all, dragons are hard to take care of. Two, I’m not a Targaryen! That’s your thing, not mine. I can’t even take care of my dog.”

“Then I assume you want the Iron Throne,” Daemon insisted, but the Blacks and Greens shot a piercing glare at him in unison, warning him not to give anymore ideas, but he awaited for (y/n)’s reaction.

“That chair looks uncomfortable! I’d rather sit on a cold ground rather than having an iron swords jabbed up and bleeding in my ass.”

Aegon snorted, covering his mouth when Otto noticed his grandsons, scowling.

“What can we do to convince you,” Alicent resumed, hands rest on the armchair.

“I don’t think you can help me on this one,” (y/n) said, begging them to let you go.

Rhaenyra maintained her posture. “Then what is it that you truly desire at this moment, Lady (y/n)?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Never.”

Shaking, deep in pensive notion after hearing their relentless offer disguised as blatant curiosity.

Silence prevailed, at first. Fireplace flickered, soft howls bypassed the constellation room. Everything stood still, as does their anticipation, weighing and resting on their fate of the house.

Rising onto her feet, and she got close and flatly pressed down to a cold stone pillar with her hand. “I want to see the ocean, the sky—the smell of salt and cloudy air. I want to feel the wind as I walk by, or draw and paint surrounded by flowers as I looked out onto the ocean as the ships sails by.”

“A very simple, mundane request,” Daemon commented, folded his arms. “Anyone could percept the instability of waves and ships passing through and the fragrant smell of blooming flowers.”

“Sometimes taking the simplest pleasures in life must cherish with joy and savor with love,” you told him, remaining your eye locked onto the waves, wobbling and crashing. “You’re a dragonlord, Prince Daemon, I think you should be grateful. As for me, I rarely get to see the ocean, because I lived somewhere far where it has no ocean, no flowers—the weather is humid and sometimes shows a little rain. On most days, hot air suffocates you to a point you want to drown in cold water.”

“There’s a chance people might conclude you’re from Dorne or Yiti. Or perhaps as Ser Criston’s sister.”

Aemond watched (y/n) shooting Daemon with a deadpan expression on her dulled hues. Criston, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate Daemon’s unnecessary commentary, but made no urging trifle.

“I’m not, and if I do, you would recognize the Dornish accent at this moment. Clearly you can’t. Sorry to disappoint you,” (y/n) replied, nonchalant.

“Anything else,” Rhaenyra asked, anticipating.

Silence occurred.

“What of other things you acquire to be more convincing,” Alicent chimed in, coaxing, sensing an alarming and animated expression hidden from you.

“Nothing,” (y/n) squeaked, though her cheeks flushed says so otherwise.

Aegon snorted as Aemond lifted the corners of his mouth into a piffling smirk—as he found your sudden expression unexpectedly chaste with shyness and charm.

“The matters settled, then,” Rhaenyra got up. “I look forward to see you and more. I expect great and admirable accomplishments from you, Lady (y/n). I think it’s that for now you must stay in the capital. If you do intend to serve the realm, I’ll reward you, anything to your heart’s desire. As long as you make contributions, we’ll make your dream as certain. In the meantime, that is.”

(Y/n) ventured in a languid motion near towards the members in the council. In the end, the favor on her side—Rhaenyra and Alicent’s request—might go smoothly if done right. But Aemond’s heart grew heavy at a thought of you leaving King’s Landing, leaving Westeros, feared you might not recall your ventures and people you encountered alongside of the journey—feared your mind and sight of seeing Westeros and its people are nothing but a figment dream.

Alicent pushed herself up from her reclining. “I shall do my part as well. You’ll do great things, I’m certain,” she assured (y/n), enfolded atop (y/n)’s cold hand.

Happiness faded from (y/n)’s lips when a cold end of the blade—Dark Sister—tipped and traced a thin line on her centered neck. Daemon’s violet eyes gleamed at hers; her hands raised an indication of surrender.

Aemond’s eye snapped in fury. The guards Rhaenyra accompanied clutched their blades, viewing like vultures standby.

“I’ll never trust a cunt like you,” Daemon proclaimed. “You may wield a blade, you may save anyone who you wish, but you’ll never be part of the court. The look in your eye—arrogant and maliciously stricken with pretense. Common whores like you—pretending to be humble and virtuous when you really are neither.”

Yet you fuck whores in the Streets of Silk on your pastime, Aemond thought.

Sighing, (y/n) said, “Then kill me. If you really think I’m dangerous to the Red Keep and to the monarchy like Ser Marrow claimed, then end me.” Then she gripped Dark Sister and pointed it at her chest daringly. “Go ahead. I dare you.”

He scoffed, despite Rhaenyra’s attempt on pushing Daemon back.

“Don’t speak to me as if you’re my equal. We are nothing alike.”

“Thank god I don’t have a cock, then,” (y/n) shot back, rolling your eyes. “I don’t have to worry whether I’m going to get gelded or not.”

Like a child, Aegon stifled his giggling.

“Fucking simpleton,” Daemon hissed, pressured the Dark Sister. “You know nothing of Westeros and its people. Might as well have your tongue remove. What say you, warrior?” he mocked.

“Seven Hells, Daemon, you’ve said enough,” Rhaenyra warned.

Aemond strode onward, never minding Alicent, who was rushing to his side, begging to not worsen an escalating quarrel. But Aemond paid no mind; his mother’s words drowned and emptied in his fueled rage.

“I saved both lives—a boy and a girl,” (y/n) protested. “I saved two young people who are separately belong from two mothers—who were at their near deaths. I saved you too, by the way. Guess it doesn’t matter, right?”

Daemon tsked. “And that’ll be the last thing you’ll ever save, considering your reputation has been nothing but meddlesome. I’m afraid your reasons on saving your neck has come to expire.”

Aemond trudged in front of (y/n), holding his long dagger and situated his honed silver on Daemon’s neck. He felt her cold hand pressed against his chest and gave a little push, but no to avail; she’s still weak under the Milk of the Poppy.

“Hold down your blade, Uncle,” Aemond warned. “You gave her quite a fright. I thought the deal has been final.”

“I never thought I’d take you as a fool, Aemond—that’s twice you’ve committed a sudden act.” Daemon’s lips curled in disgust. “Being blinded by her, I see.”

“She saved my sister’s life,” Aemond justified. “And I’m eternally grateful.”

Without shifting his eye, he saw you wandered your glance up to him before facing back to Daemon.

Aemond shifted closer, Targaryen against Targaryen.

“Take one more move, and you’ll lose another pair of your eyesight,” Daemon sneered. “What happens then, if I do cut your other eye out? So, shall we test it?”

(Y/n) managed to block herself in between Aemond and Daemon.

“Then I’ll be his other eye,” (y/n) declared, defended, one arm spread, shielding Aemond, the other hand held high against Daemon, bandage slipped from her visage.

All noise ceased.

Aemond’s heart quickened at a roaring declaration in a vibration on your tone—soft yet firm and fiery—like a dragon reborn.

“I’ll be his other eye,” she repeated, shielding Aemond. “Stay back,” she hissed at Aemond, insisting on shoving him back to lessen the tension between two factions. Aemond glimpsed at her shaken hand, yearning to hold her.

Even (y/n) knew a large cost of encountering Targaryens through fate, aside learning the history. Dragons never cower in their palace of red and gold of Red Keep, in a palace of black stoned walls of Dragonstone, their banners—sigils of red or green. Dragons come and reign in a price of fire and blood and fearsome, colossal beasts taming Westeros.

Knowing the consequences of her shared words, who knows what might occur depending on her unfickle judgement.

“You heard the maiden,” Aemond said with a smug on his face. “Release your blade, Uncle,” he commanded.

Grimaced, Daemon drew his sword back in his sheath, parting the gap, and endowed (y/n) and Aemond with imprisoned through his hues. “She’s no maiden. Perhaps I shall call her “Green’s bitch”.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed. Little by little, he stood inches near (y/n), like a proud and mighty dragon stood by its owner.

Watching close by, Rhaenyra and Alicent shared knowing glances.

Overhearing the sound behind them, the king produced an agonizing sound of his breath, (y/n)’s able to catch him from falling in brisk reflex.

“Get the maester, quick!” Alicent cried, as you are clinging onto the ailing king, who was moaning and groaning due to his severe ail.

Everyone made haste as Alicent and Rhaenyra assisted (y/n) on putting back Viserys onto his chair.

Adjusting the king’s posture, Alicent dimissed (y/n) by saying, “We shall talk later. I must tend to my husband. You go on ahead.”

And with that, the council adjourned—(y/n) ushered out, giving Aemond one last look with a slight bent on her neck.

With a final word, Aegon said to Aemond, as they trudged back to the halls. “Daemon took great pleasure in stirring commotion, especially a certain lady, who you’re so keen on.”

Aemond hasn’t utter a single word.

“Obviously, he has missed his youth involved with treachery and rebelliousness. I supposed these days have kept peace quite busy despite our father’s poor lapse of judgment.”

Aemond sauntered farther, but Aegon caught on in a same pace.

“I never knew you had it on you, dear brother. But was it really an act of good will for Helaena’s life or was it a pure instinct to an act of affection?”

“It was all for Helaena’s sake,” Aemond said.

Aegon leered. “Is it?”

From there, Aegon fled.

For once, Aegon never said something stupid or drunk.

Aemond stalked his mother on meeting (y/n) in the chambers he trudged in upon darkest shadows, carefully listening in.

Alicent came over, agitated even concealed in unsuccessful, mortified demeanor. “The Council has been reached to a verdict,” Alicent told (y/n), as if it’s a death sentence—probably the men discussed and finalized to an upcoming conclusion.

He watched as (y/n) was plopping onto the bedside, the last cigarette held between finger has thawed into ashes.

“I see,” (y/n) soften tone echoed the room, rippling against his skin.

Alicent touched (y/n)’s upper arm. “I apologize on behalf of the circumstances. I know it can’t be easy,” she said, sincere.

(Y/n)’s eyes twinkled.

“Despite Rhaenyra vouching for you for saving her son, you have declared of being Aemond’s other eye, and thus, your declaration brought an uprising of questions to the Blacks.”

(Y/n) acknowledged.

“A word of advice; should you wish to keep your wits and tongue, play your part, and keep your head down for the Blacks not to detect or test your patience,” Alicent said. “Common folk, even nobles tend to have ill intentions far from a plain gossip. Kingdoms tend to hatch a birth of vipers and stabbers every corner of the castle walls.”

“I’ll do it,” (y/n) said, without looking back at her, picking on her fingertips.

Alicent clasped her hands over (y/n)’s, and heaved. “Rhaenyra and I are in a current matters of discussion regarding of your future duties in King’s Landing. She proposed the idea of you being as the cupbearer while I proposed the idea of you being as Helaena’s handmaiden. Nothing has set in stone. We did so to ensure of your livelihood be at safest, to cease the gossip that has been spread far and wide regarding to your arrival. But first, the king must anoint you at the throne room for a private ceremony—no audience shall be present.”

You stayed silent; your right hand stroke your left wrist; the feeling the absence without your possession.

“Is something the matter?”

(Y/n) shook your head, light-headed.

“In time of fear and change, that is where you must be brave,” Alicent advised, eyes glistened.

Aemond has never heard of Alicent—his mother—spoken ever so motherly to anyone, not even Aegon.

A sudden shift glided in you when you have decided what to do as (y/n)’s role in King’s Landing. “I’ll bend the knee.”

Alicent’s dulled eyes brightened at your answer. “Then I shall inform my husband regarding to your call.” She laid her hand on (y/n)’s shoulder blade.

Once she stood up, (y/n) bid Alicent goodnight.

And Aemond stayed in the dark, and the only words replaying in his mind are the words she declared opposing the Rogue Prince.

I’ll be his other eye.

The way you shielded his body and ordered him to shift back, Aemond knew that no noble woman or commoner in any Houses would defend him and his honor as a Targaryen and Hightower. Or more than his status as a one-eyed prince. As a swordsman, he can hold off his battles, even in close quarters, but something about you, a strong-headed girl, who knew of little consequences, protected him that he find as devilishly unique.

His mind stirred in a matter of battling between whether he want to fight your battles or claim you.

Perhaps both.

Aemond had certainly come to a closure, a predetermined arrangement of taking you, but obstacles must come forth before a dragon claims the maiden as his crown, glory and a hymn that he won’t mind spend the rest of his life hearing.

Upon a daylight hour, the decision came to a close when both Greens and Blacks debated to assigning on (y/n)’s fate for the realm, despite a given answer. In the end, King Viserys has a final say, which both factions surrendered for an hesitant agreement. In the Red Keep, guest of nobles and common folk alike flocked inside to a point where it’s nearly and impossible to fit, all awaiting, all mind shared one reason.

Hours before the occurrence in the throne room, in Aemond’s quarters, two servants awoke him to bathe, and one maid provided him information regarding to (y/n)—the Maester inspected and mended on her wounds once more before withdrawing. Her eye, however, is healed, just as it was yesterday when she ripped the bandage off.

In the throne, there she was, blocked by tall members of the Kingsguard.

He imagined that a maidservant tugged the strings harder for a cinched waist, despite this, (y/n) cooperated without a fight. Knowing resistance will bring disaster. Until a thought of disaster is long gone. From there, the guards veiled for (y/n) to cross passage towards the steps of the Iron Throne, seeing upon a pristined condition—clad to an outfit befitting for a youthful and appeased maiden to soften at the hardened image of a brute fighter. Her straight long (h/c) locks with thick stands braided as headband atop of her head; strands of baby hair left untouched, and soft paint dabbed it on your chapped lips and cheekbones, tainted in reddish shade to liven your surly visage.

King Viserys proclaimed and summoned (y/n); she knelt with a hand over her chest, head inclining down that her long (h/c) locks framed on sides, reciting her vows. King Viserys crowned her with a green brooch with a four-pointed star sigil pinned on her centered chest once she stood.

“As a last hope for a darkened age within House Targaryen, in hopes to reunite both factions,” King Viserys announced, hoarse. “Salvation rests in your hands. I wish you nothing but the very best to soothe the realm with your grace, Lady Greenstar.”

Two factions appalled at his last claim underneath their vacant neutrality in their hues. Spectators gathered and exchanged in gossip, all frantic and perplexed from their King’s announcement.

A girl from a modern century has been remade through rain of fire and light, befall and rose from sky. Arise onto her feet, who peered upon audience, before the eyes of the two factions, who solely darting her eyes to Aemond, as if she wanted him to sense her heart is surged with heaviness, rebirth as Lady Greenstar.

Aemond did—but couldn’t offer the arms of comfort. His fierce and benevolent maiden. But in the eyes of Gods, Westeros won’t lay rest, as he keeps his ardor hidden.

And chaos entered.

Taglist: @galactict3a @daonenonlysandman @toodlesxcuddles @hufflepuff1700 @me753 @fredskum @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @taintedlovesworld @kukulyarva @darylandbethfanforever9 @blackswxnn @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @herathedreamer @g-cf2020 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @aleemendoza2425-blog @tm-starr @kukulyarva @buccini555 @colored-tr-panels @valeskafics

259 notes · View notes

bratbby333 · 3 months

Text

the jjk men + their drink of choice

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

blurb/brain dump

sfw; mentions of alcohol, obvi

feat: suguru, yuuji, megumi, satoru, nanami, sukuna, toji, ++ choso

author notes: i've been bartending for three years now and i can safely say ive gotten pretty good at reading people and guessing their go-to drinks,,so here's the jjk men!

-suguru: a whiskey coke. probably jack or maker's mark. simple, straightforward, and gets the job done. suguru is too laid back to be picky and is definitely the most patient person sitting at the bar. his intuitive and observant nature has him scanning the other patrons at the bar; he's a people watcher for entertainment, paying no mind to the tv's. he speaks to the bartender with a smile on his face, joking around with them, making small talk and sarcastic remarks. he's just so sassy and violently intelligent; his soft, healing energy rubbing off on everyone around him. he's a breath of fresh air in a busy bar environment. he tips well, too.

-yuuji: a piña colada (rum, coconut cream, pineapple juice; blended and served in a hurricane glass, garnished with a slice of pineapple and a maraschino cherry). freshly 21 years old, this would be his first legal drink. "look, you even get snacks with it!!" he'd say, referring to the garnishes, his age definitely showing with this drink. he attempts to chug it, getting a brain freeze in the process.

-megumi: an espresso martini. classy, bold, and strong; this drink is definitely for someone who wants to appear more mature and sophisticated than they actually are. megumi is mature, but he's overcompensating for the fact that his best friend just ordered the fruitiest drink possible. the caffeine mixing with the liquor makes meg more talkative than usual, and his reserved nature and unreadable face is left at the door and replaced with soft smiles and the occasional chuckle at his goofy friends. he'd also definitely makes fun of yuuji for ordering that piña colada.

-satoru: a tequila sunrise (tequila, orange juice, grenadine, layered to make a gradient). extra af, sweet, and fruity. orders it with a triple shot cause he's grown. "it's just so pretty, isn't it?" he'd giggle, kicking his feet under the bar like he isn't a fully grown man or the strongest sorcerer in the jujutsu world. oh, satoru. filled with such child-like wonder. with enough drinks in his system (although, he'd definitely do this without the liquor), he would work his way around the bar trying to make conversation with anyone and everyone, not caring if they didn't participate- no biggie, he'd just talk at them.

-nanami: a manhattan or an old fashioned, but only with top-shelf bourbon. it'd be a waste to have the bartender craft this perfect cocktail and use shitty liquor. he sips it slow, savoring the caramel notes of the bourbon. the perfect drink for a stoic and reserved man. nanami definitely has a sophisticated palate and never settles for low quality liquor. he goes to more upscale bars, enjoying the smooth jazz that pours through the speakers, occasionally snacking on small h'ordeurves, but more often than not working his way through a pile of paperwork.

-sukuna: liquid cocaine shots (equal parts goldschlager, jager, and rumple minze). absolutely unhinged and vile, but if you like them, you love them. and sukuna loooves them. he takes the shots like they're water and still manages to out drink everyone else; he'll even offer to buy shots for everyone at the bar, the other patrons cheering and thanking him, expecting it to be shots of vodka or tequila. with a maniacal smile plastered across his face, he watches as everyone's faces contort in disgust when they realize it's a liquid cocaine shot. sukuna just grins as they struggle to get them down. such a sadist. an absolute menace.

-toji: an adios motherfucker (equal parts tequila, vodka, gin, rum, and blue curaçao, with sour mix and sprite). "but that's such a lame drink!" his friends say, but toji would roll his eyes and state that it's a funny drink name and that it gets him drunker quicker; promptly chugging it and ordering another. the glass looks so small in his giant hands, other bar patrons casting judgmental gazes in his direction at the scene in front of them; giant, scary-looking man and his fruity little drink, but he couldn't care less. it's not like they have the balls to say anything to his face, any way.

-choso: a little overwhelmed by bar culture but happy to be invited anyway, he'd sneak a straw into his brother's piña colada, even though yuuji would be more than happy to share. choso would eventually branch out on his own after feeling a bit more confident (and after googling the most popular drinks around the world) settling on a mojito, not realizing it was one of the more laborious drinks a bartender could make. he'd feel bad when he realized it and wouldn't order one again, apologizing profusely to the bartender.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

author notes: this took me way longer to write than it should have solely because i couldn't stop laughing over some of the scenarios. also,,i just want to thank each and every one of y'all for liking, commenting, and reblogging my stories...it means so so so much to me and i wish i could give all y'all a big ole smooch on the forehead (consensually). my inbox is open n ready for ur suggestions...please feel free to drop a request♡

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #ryomen sukuna #fushiguro toji #choso kamo #bratbby333

138 notes · View notes

marvelsswansong · 2 years

Text

summary: Steve is awfully protective over you. Everyone thinks it's very sweet and cute. But it's also quite inconvenient at times.

tags: tooth rotting fluff, short blurb again, Steve x fem!reader, poor Robin trying to speak logic into Steve's love-confused mind, Nancy being a supportive queen, Eddie being a sassy icon as always

☆ word count: 785 ☆

a/n: soft!dom/sweet!protective bfs >>> all else. Since my mental health is still shit and I don't have any WIPS atm - plz enjoy this short Steve-centric fluff fic x

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

"What happened?"

Steve's quick to pull your face into his hands, cupping your face gently as his eyes frantically scan your face for any visible injuries. All it takes is seeing a slight cut to your upper knee and he's feral, pushing you down onto his couch as Robin rolls her eyes from the background.

"I'm fine too, thanks." Robin sarcastically adds, excusing herself to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

"We were just hiking, Stevie." you assure your boyfriend, giggling. But Steve's not having any of it, rolling up his sleeves as he retrieves a first aid box from the top shelf in his living room.

"You gotta be careful, bunny. You could've gotten a deeper cut, or tripped and hit your head on a rock, or slipped and twist your ankle on a wet patch of grass-" Steve lists them off one by one, all the whilst pulling off a band aid and gingerly playing it over your wound. You chuckle at his antics, your left hand smoothing his hair over as Robin yells from the kitchen once more.

"Again, I WAS THERE and SHE WAS FINE!"

Steve glares at his best friend from the floor, though he can't quite see her from this distance.

"I was safe, Steve." you assure him, pulling a soft sigh from his chapped lips.

"I know, I just... I hate not being around to be able to protect you." Steve mumbles against your shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss on to the bare skin. His comment makes warmth blossom across your torso, electricity dancing up your spine.

"It's fine, I'm fine, you don't have to worry."

Steve knows that, logically. That you're a fully grown adult, capable of taking care of yourself. Hell, he's seen you stab a Russian scientist in the leg and stomp demonic bats to death. And yet he can't help but worry for you endlessly, yearning to keep you away from any sembelance of danger.

Walking alongside the road? His arm wraps around your waist and pushes you to the other side, facing you away from the cars.

Carrying heavy bags of grocercies? Not with Steve. He downright refuses to let you carry anything heavy, insisting that you'll pull a muscle or drop it and injure yourself.

Entering a crowded area? Steve laces his fingers with yours and makes a point to always keep you behind him, afraid to lose you in the mass of peoples.

It's collectively agreed by everyone that Steve's protectiveness over you is very sweet and adorable. Albeit, at times, counter-productive.

Like right now, when one of your shoelaces has come undone and Steve drops everything to kneel down and tie your shoelaces for you. Robin rolls her eyes, Nancy lets out a soft "aw" and Eddie pouts.

"How come you never tie my shoes, Steve?" Eddie mocks, causing you to giggle. Steve shoots the metalhead a deathly glare as his fingers quickly work to tie up your shoelaces.

"Because you're nowhere near pretty as my girlfriend, jackass." is Steve's dry response, one which makes Eddie pout and Nancy laugh out loud.

"I could've tied my own shoelaces." you mumble quietly as he stands back up. "Not that you do a bad job, but I feel bad that your jeans got a bit dirty."

You point to the kneepads of Steve's jeans, which are now coated with specks of dirt and broken leaves from when he was kneeling on the floor to tie your shoes. Steve's quick to dismiss it, lacing his fingers with yours once more.

"Nah. I'd rather it be my jeans getting dirty than your pretty skirt getting messy."

You both stare at each other in adoration, his adoring gaze causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach as his left hand draws comforting circles onto your palm. The silent, sweet moment is interrupted when Robin yells from the front, exasperated.

"As cute as this is, we are still stuck in the Upside Down, so can we PLEASE get a move on?" Robin pleads, shining the flashlight directly at you and Steve's faces.

"Also, we can't stop every time someone's shoelaces get untied." she adds, narrowing her eyes at Steve. He only smirks as he pushes forward into the crowd, dragging you to the front with him.

"We will if it's my girlfriend's shoelaces. So that I can tie them up." he boasts, shooting you a quick wink.

Robin groans at his cocky comment as you attempt to shoot Robin an apologetic smile.

"You're insufferable, Steve Harrington, you know that?" Robin moans, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

Steve shrugs in response.

"What can I say, Robin? Love makes a man do crazy things."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #1k #2k

3K notes · View notes

myosotlsart · 17 days

Text

Listen I've become privy to Daisy Oak's new official design and I am so disappointed 😭

The things that stand out the most is her overall 'smoothness'. I get it: she's the sweet, helpful older sister of the prideful/snarky, antagonistic rival, and the juxtaposition of Green Oak's spiky hair and her overall smooth hair really sells that.

But Imo it makes her look bland, especially in comparison to her pokespe outfit, where the resemblance is made clear with a spiky bang. It's a fantastic balance of the original character with added decals to show her relation to Green. (Also her pokespe laboratory demonstrates intellect and competence expected of the Oak bloodline but- I understand why they wouldn't go that direction with the official design).

But the thing that hurts me the most is the fact that *she isn't wearing the amulet*. *The* amulet- Green's silver tear-shaped amulet he's worn since the 90s. It's never specified, even in the manga, where this amulet came from or what it's meaning is, but the fact they both wore it is a statement in of itself.

Green Oak, the sassy, at times petulant kid, sharing the same amulet as his older sister shows that despite his arrogant world perspective, he has a soft spot towards his sister. Similarly, Daisy Oak is especially fond towards her brother, despite all the 'flaws he may portray.

It's sibling dynamics, man. In a world where your own grandfather barely acknowledges your existence, leaning on the sister that always resides at your side is crucial, and barely developed by the games. Red has his mother, but Green really only has his sister.

Justice for Green and Daisy's amulets. Bring them back 😭

*Apparently in the manga Oak gave Green the necklace and it has a protection charm. Thanks Oak! This actually shows you *do* care about your grandchildren 😅

#if anyone has Daisy and Green/Blue Oak fanart id love to see it like literally Daisy is one of my fav characters #rival green #rival blue #pokemon #pokemon adventures #Green Oak #Blue Oak #Daisy Oak #pokespe #takes n talking

78 notes · View notes

esmedelacroix · 7 months

Text

Coffee Shop Love Pt.2

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

summary: He's as stern and cold as the snow falling from the sky blanketing the bustling streets of Nueva York, Miguel O'Hara stumbles upon a hidden gem of a coffee shop just around the corner from Alchemax. Only problem is the annoying-as-shit smiley-ass barista.

contents: slow burn, no use of y/n, super fluffy, a teeny bit of Spanish, just pet names tbh, implied age gap

author's note: Hi lovies, this is the second part of this series. I'm really excited to continue this series. I hope you are enjoying it as much as I enjoy writing it. Please comment if there is something you particularly liked, or if you have any constructive criticism for me. Enjoy...

word count: 1.3k

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3, Pt.4, Pt. 5, Pt.6, Pt.7, Sequel: Sweet Tooth

It was another busy morning at the shop and you and your two employees were rushing around making coffees and serving guests that sat down for breakfast. Despite the Mug & Muffin being such a small shop, the morning rush was brutal. It wasn't your fault you were such a social butterfly and everyone in the neighborhood knew you. "Hey Baby, could I get an iced peppermint mocha-" Mr. Smith started before trailing off.

"With extra whipped cream to go?" you finished smiling as you already had his drink ready. You snuck a little sugar cookie and his bag and sent him off. Mr. Smith was your sweet old landlord. He had Alzheimer’s so you often helped him remember his coffee order, on top of when your rent was due.

Just after Mr. Smith had left you were writing inventory down when your thoughts were interrupted by a deep, rich voice. Smooth like honey he said, "Good Morning Baby, could I get a hot black coffee to-go?"

Your head shot up at the tall man towering over you. His broad shoulders almost completely shading you from the light outside.

"Miguel, good morning," you replied practically gawking at him.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked starting to rub his mouth.

"No no, sorry I just—wasn't expecting you to call me that," you said as you began to take his order down.

"Well, that's what you asked me to call you, no?" he asked passively.

God this man is so sassy, where does he get the audacity? You thought to yourself as you quickly whipped up his brew.

You handed him his drink with a smile. To which he replied, "Thank you, Chula, Have a good day,"

Just like that, he left the shop to go to Alchemax, which was probably about five steps away for him; since his legs are miles long. While he left your legs feeling like jelly, you didn't know what that word meant but it was still hot when he said it.

So as you sat in the shop late at night bored out of your mind, asking yourself the question you asked yourself every day. Why am I still open? Who buys coffee at 8 pm? Your answer had walked right through the door. This time not getting caught in the mistletoe. "You really have to take that down. Do you know how tiring it is to duck into this store?" he joked as walked up to the counter after putting his work bag down.

"Take down the mistletoe? Never, it's a holiday decor necessity," you explained while already starting to make his order.

"What's the purpose of it anyway?" he asked trying to make his point.

"You seriously don't know what mistletoe is? Miguel, if a man and a woman stand under a mistletoe together, they have to kiss, it is the sweetest most romantic thing ever," you explained passionately.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he replied as he took his mug of black coffee and paid.

"How do you have such a shortage of Christmas spirit?" you asked him.

"Well, I've never really celebrated Christmas since I was like twelve years old, and I have no recollection of my life past 20," he explained.

"Ugh, you old fart, your no fun," you teased.

"I'm not that old," he rebutted.

"Really? Because you seem like you’re 35," you guessed.

"Well, I'm 37 but that's besides the point, Im pretty young," he said.

"No, young is me, I'm 30," you replied.

"Smartass," he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear as buried himself in his work like the night before. You continued cleaning up and packing up the extra baked goods for the day. There was one piece of coffee cake left, and you weren't going to eat it. "Miguel, would you like some coffee cake with your drink?" you asked hopefully.

"I thought I already told you, I don't like sweets," he said eyes still glued to his screen.

"Yeah, but you never know until you try, maybe you just haven't had the right one," you nagged. He sighed while taking off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Will you stop talking if I take it?" he teased while looking up at you trying not to smile. You rolled your eyes and brought a plate to him with a fork.

"Yes, this ones on the house," you said.

"Oh, I was never going to pay to have my tastebuds assaulted, don't worry," he joked.

"Just zip it and eat," you said trying not to give him the satisfaction of your laughter but then failing miserably.

You put on a Frank Sinatra vinyl on your record player to get into the holiday mood as you cleaned up the shop. Mopping the sticky matted black and white tiled floors. It was inevitable that something spilled during the morning and lunch rush.

You looked back at Miguel, and to your surprise, the plate of coffee cake was cleared. No crumbs were detected on the plate. His mug of coffee was always finished in record time, yet his head was resting on top of his laptop. He was completely knocked out sleeping like a baby. While his nose was continuously hitting the spacebar.

You took his plate and mug as quietly as you could. You also gently took his glasses off. You finished off everything you needed to and gave the extra boxes of baked goods to a volunteer who would take them to the homeless shelter for you. You even walked up to your apartment to shower and change into your Christmas pajamas.

You slipped on your reindeer slippers and walked down the stairs to the shop. Miguel was still slumped over his table. It was beyond the closing time you shook his shoulder trying to wake him up. His eyes slowly fluttered open. "Miguel, you gotta get up, it's way too late," you whispered softly. He brought his head up still taking in his surroundings and fully waking up. You helped him pack his stuff as he was registering where he was.

He had keyboard marks on the side of his cheek, making you chuckle to yourself as he was completely oblivious to the fact.

He didn't hide that he was so embarrassed that he had fallen asleep well. You found it kind of cute, he even blushed a bit. He thanked you and you handed him a hot chocolate with marshmallows to-go. "Before you say you don't like sweet things, just try it, you drink way too much caffeine, and it's very cold tonight," you said.

"Thank you, Baby, oh great, I can feel the sugar rushing through my bloodstream," he joked. You rolled your eyes at him and hit his arm playfully.

"Now I think I understand why people call you Baby, I mean look at this outfit," he teased motioning at your slippers.

"Get out of my shop," you exclaimed while giggling and pushing him out. You finally got Miguel out and watched him walk to his car. He suddenly turned around and said "Stay warm Baby, goodnight,"

"Goodnight Miguel," you called out to him waving before closing the shop door and locking up.

Just as you were about to walk up the stairs to your apartment, you noticed something strange on the counter. Yet another sticky note from Miguel, but this one had his phone number on it. You smiled down at the paper while doing a little happy dance and then collecting yourself. You little weirdo. You thought to yourself.

Next... Pt.3

taglist:

@br0-please @jewelz-teehe @iite-cool

218 notes · View notes

makeyoumine69 · 1 year

Note

PLEASE PLEASE #24!! breeding,spanking, and cum play are so hot ngl I’m begging you. also ik this pet name is a cliche, but could you use princess?

honestly make this the raunchiest, dirtiest, masterpiece ever.😼

Hello, my dear! Thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it! *hugs*😘🙈

— [MASTERLIST]; [1k Followers Celebration Masterlist] [SONG REC]

You and Patrick decided to have a child, and as a true perfectionist, he planned every single detail of your future pregnancy. One day he resolved that he wanted to breed you in some special place, so he decided to take you to Hawaii, where you could rest and it would also be very good for your health.

A sound of waves crushing lulled you into a sweet nap as you lay on the beach terrace under the tent on soft, big pillows. The surrounding air was so warm that it enveloped you like a cocoon, making you feel completely tranquil and relaxed. You let out a small gasp of joy when you felt a tantalizing sensation in your lower abdomen. At first you just squirmed a little in your place, but then you suddenly found yourself moaning lustfully from the nagging feeling in your womb.

"A-ahh," you mewled, your eyes wide open as you were now fully awake. "Gosh, Patrick?"

Confused, you sneaked under the thin blanket to see Patrick's flushed face buried between your legs, sucking on your sensitive bud.

"Good morning, sweet cheeks." Bateman murmured and continued to slurp at your dripping pussy, stroking your inner thighs with his large palms.

"Pat-Patrick! We're on the beach, for Christ's sake!"

He moaned against your clit, his vibration making you arch your back in a sweet convulsion. "We're in a private zone, don't worry," he tugged on your tip, then flicked it with his wet tongue. "Mmm, you were sleeping so adorably, I couldn't resist."

Twitching on the pillows, you had to shush yourself with a hand as his mouth was about to be the death of you - Patrick was greedily comsuming all of your delicious flavor, alternating between swiping your little tip and giving your pussy long licks. With a soft whimper, you couldn't help but grab onto his head for support, running your fingers through his brown hair.

"A-aww, Patty," you pressed a finger to your lips, making eye contact with him and melting from the inside out. "Mmhm ... it feels s-so good, Daddy."

You heard his sassy chuckle before he planted a sloppy kiss on your mound and pulled the blanket off completely.

"Daddy knows how to treat pussy right," he made his way to your chest, kissing your skin wherever he could. "My beautiful little girl."

Inch by inch, he set your body on fire, especially when he reached your heavy breasts, kissing and sucking them one by one. Gasping, you tilted your head back to give him better access to your boobs, and he immediately appreciated it as he locked his mouth around your swollen nipple, swirling his skillful tongue around it. God, you thought you were going to pass out from the pleasure, not to mention the way his hard groin brushed against your needy pussy, occasionally touching your clit.

"Mmm-aaah! Daddy, please..."

"Please, what?"

"Fuck m-me, please," your voice wavered with excitement. "Use my pussy, Daddy. I'm all yours."

"I know, Princess," Bateman mused after he had finished with your little peaks, leaving them completely swollen. "I know you're mine, but I love the way it sounds from your mouth."

Possessively, Patrick moved close to your face and pulled you into a hard kiss, you gasped against his mouth, tasting yourself and losing your mind with each slide of your tongues. In one smooth motion, Bateman released his fully erected dick and pressed your bent legs against your chest so he could fuck you really hard, insanely hard and deep.

It felt so amazing to be beneath him with your legs resting on his broad shoulders, to feel his big palms slapping your ass and then groping it so intensely. Before you closed your eyes, you watched him pepper your ankle with soft kisses, and then your whole body shook as he rammed into you in one quick thrust.

"A-aww! Daddy, mmmm …" you wrapped your legs around his loin and looked up at him, his toned muscles now flexing so much. "Oh, GOD, you are so b-big, so big …" You cried out, trying your best to adjust to his huge size.

With a sharp growl, Bateman leaned down and kissed your forehead, picking up the pace and pounding harder into you, pressing you down with his massive weight.

"Cry all you want… I know you're enjoying this, Princess," Patrick murmured, before getting on his knees and putting a pillow under your ass. "Fuck … you have such a tight little pussy ... mmhm, I'm gonna make her so full of my cum."

"Please, Daddy! I w-want to carry your child s-so badly," your miserable whimpering was all that mattered to him, that spurred him to fuck you faster, your bodies slapping against each other with shameless, nasty sounds. "A-aww! Gosh, it's so deep, mmm-aaah!"

"Oh, yes, my dear (Y/N), you will give me as many kids as I want," Patrick groaned, pulling out of you for a moment to jerk himself a bit and spill his pre-cum on your belly. "Jesus, look at you ... such a cock addicted slut."

You moaned pitifully from the feeling of his warm fluid on your skin.

Gradually, Bateman smeared his pre-cum along your abdomen with his fingers, tracing them up until they met your twitching lips. "Open your mouth."

He didn't have to ask you twice, you obeyed instantly, taking his soaked fingers inside and licking them clean.

"Mmm, you taste so delicious ... Daddy," your own dirty talk almost sent you over the edge. "I can't wait for you to knock me up, Patty."

Patrick grinned arrogantly but gently, enjoying the view of your exposed body covered in his dense liquid.

"I'm going to make you so fucking pregnant," he bottomed you out again. "Mmm ... and I'm going to do it again ... and again, Princess. Do you understand that?"

He grunted and you almost fainted as he changed the angle of penetration, pressing your elongated leg almost flat against your chest, stretching you from the inside with crazy intensity.

"Yes ... ahhh, yesssss ... I'm cumming, I ... GOSH!"

"That's it, girl ... cum all over my dick!"

He punctuated each word with ragged, rough strokes, prolonging your heavy climax and making you bite your lower lip almost to the blood. Your inner muscles were so tight that Patrick couldn't hold back anymore as he shot his hot cum into your throbbing womb, making it so full and abused that you seemed to orgasm again.

Nothing in this world felt better than being claimed by this irresistible man.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

561 notes · View notes