#its v admirable and i want to be her when i grow up!

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Green

Chapter Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Chapter Summary: Jackson believes in a green future, which includes marijuana. You like to get high. Tonight, Joel joins you and you get to treat him like he treats you. Chapter Warnings: Smut, marijuana use, soft dom reader, sub Joel, m receiving oral, unprotected p in v, riding Joel's thick thigh, you bite Joel's stomach (because it has to be done), Joel watching himself masturbate in your mirror, Joel drinks water out of your hands. Words: 5,100 Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: Life in Jackson is quite comfortable and simple for you. You love teaching your students and running your library, you love the comforts of living here, perfectly complacent with the company of your two cats, guitar, tattered CD book, and a few friends. You like comfortable and simple, though the feelings you feel whenever you see Joel Miller are quite the opposite. Once you meet him, it seems like he needs you in his life as much as you need him. Reader Background: Reader is in her 30's and comes from Colorado. No other physical descriptors besides her having long enough hair to put up. A/N: Happy 4/20! Wanted to give you another entry akin to Golden Walkway, a little peek into the future again of these two.

Masterlist Playlist

Times never change instead of hiding your illicit use from your parents, now you hide it from a teenager. Joel and you always going to your your house so you can get high, just in case Ellie needs something. Can’t be a bad influence.

“So you never really smoked much?” you ask as you pull the box of papers and weed out of the drawer before sitting down on your couch. You lean over your coffee table removing its contents and start to build your joint.

“Mm, never really was my thing, too risky if I got caught growing up in Texas during the Regan years. Had football eligibility to worry about ‘n then Sarah came, just never was the time for me.” Joel says as he leans back into your armchair his brown eyes intently watching your actions. You begin to crumble weed up and place it on your rolling paper. 

“Ah, makes sense. It’s good for me when my nerves really get to me,” you begin to roll your joint, “helps kinda soften the harsh lines of reality a lot. Makes my body and my mind a little freer.”

You lick your cigarette closed and admire your handiwork, welcoming the anticipation of being with Joel while you’re stoned. 

You grab a match, strike it against the box and spark your joint, rotating it in your mouth to light it up. Joel chuckles as you inhale the first hit. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask in a cloud of your smoke as you exhale.

“Nothing. Maybe I should get high. Making me hard just watching you do this.”

“Oh yeah?” You sit back. 

“Yeah, maybe I should start. Never was one for smoking though.”

“Hm, I can help. I can just blow the smoke into your mouth if you want to try it.” You lean forward wanting him to take you up on your offer.

“Sounds good sweetheart,” he nods and pats his lap. “Come sit with me, have nowhere to be tomorrow.”

You rest the joint between your lips, stand and grab the ashtray. Your bare feet pad across the plush carpet of the area rug as you walk over to Joel. 

“Hi,” you smile out with a small puff of smoke. 

“You look so cute like this, little cigarette sticking out of your mouth, eyes all cloudy and happy. Love it when my girl is happy.”

You giggle at his compliment as you lift your leg up to rest on the chair, your foot tightly fitting within what little room is left on the seat between Joel’s thick thighs. He looks up at you, his mouth slightly agape his usual furrowed brow a lot less creased, more relaxed.

“I am happy,” you answer as his hands begin to massage your calf. “You look a lot less grumpier than you normally look. That makes me happy.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yep,” you say before inhaling another hit. 

“Why don’t you make me happier and sit on my lap, that’d make me really happy darlin’.”

Turning your head to the side you blow out a plume of smoke as you place yourself on Joel’s lap, knees bent against his thighs and the armrests. You can feel the denim covered shape of his half hard cock against your cotton shorts. Your tits underneath your faded and holey t-shirt are right at Joel’s eye level. 

“S’nice,” he says staring forward at your chest. 

“My eyes are up here Joel,” you begin to laugh at your own joke, as you take another hit. You’re so high and happy, you’ve never been stoned and in love, it feels amazing.

“I’d tell you to knock it off, but your whole body’s shaking against me ’n your tits are bouncing in my face,” Joel grins as he kisses a breast through your shirt. 

Fuck, now that feels amazing. 

“Hold this,” you direct, handing him the joint. 

He takes it between his fingers and watches as you lean back and remove your shirt. His eyes widening as he concentrates on your actions, so much for relaxed Joel. He holds up the joint, still in his hands, to your lips.

“Take a hit baby,” his voice gravels out, his cock hardening underneath, “‘n lemme have some.”

You inhale and move your mouth to his, forming a tight seal between the two of you. Joel welcomes the smoke and sucks in as you blow out. 

You grab the joint from him as he exhales, a white cloud of smoke floating above the two of you. You take another pull off the joint, your body already feeling much lighter, your brain less complicated. 

“Can I have that back?” Joel asks. “Want to do the same you did for me.”

You smile a silent agreement and hand him the joint, now a short stub. He brings it up to his mouth, holding it between his thumb and pointer, his large fingers making it practically disappear save for the glowing orange embers that light as he takes a hit. He looks so fucking tempting as his cheeks slightly puff out. Everything Joel Miller does is hot, but the way he drags on a joint, his pillowy lips wrapping around the white paper, the way his broad shoulders rise as he breathes in, this might just be the hottest you’ve ever seen him. When will you ever get tired of looking at this man?

You bring your lips to his and he exhales into your mouth. Oh, this is the best way to get high. You pull away, releasing the smoke from your lungs.

“‘Bout shot, don’t you think?” Joel raises the joint up and looks at it.

“It’s shot,” you grab the ash tray from the table and hand it to him. He stubs out the joint and puts it back on the table.

He looks at you, his eyes heavier than usual, a little red and glazed. You’ve seen his eyes glazed over with lust numerous times, this glaze is a little lighter, a little happier. He sits back and you move farther up his lap so you can move a finger up to pet the smoothness of the little heart patch in his beard. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as Joel’s hands trace up and down your back. 

“Good, real good,” a deep exhale out of his lips answers. 

“Relaxed?” You ask as your finger moves to brush back and forth across his lips. 

“Mm.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this free before. A light smile, half shut eyes staring back at you, his whole face more relaxed. He looks good this way, you love when he’s happy and relaxed, you’ve never met anybody more deserving.

“Feels good,” Joel says as you rub your finger across his soft lower lip. A deep breath leaves his half parted lips, the air blowing against your finger. “Real good.”

“Good,” your hand moves to trace around his top lip, the hair of his mustache bristling against your digit as you move it back and forth. “I like making you feel good.” 

You feel the the lines around his lips rise as he smiles at you. “You’re s’good at it baby.”

“Yeah? What do you like the most?”

“Hard t’pick. Love the way your eyes always blink as you cum for me, can always tells how good you’re feelin’ by how big your eyes get right before. Love the little gasp you always make when I start fuckin’ you. Love that you grab for my hands at any chance you get, like you need to touch me as much as you can. Love that you always need me.” The last sentence coming out the softest.

“I do need you,” you confess, “all the time, not even for all of the you know, sex stuff.”

“I know baby,” he hugs you against his chest, “I need you too… so much.” 

“But, I do also really need you for the sex stuff, you know?"

Joel’s chuckle vibrates against you. “My girl’s funny, real funny.”  

“But really, what do you need tonight Joel?” You pull away from his chest and look him in the eyes. You love it when he compliments you, you love it when he calls you his girl. You love that he needs you just as much as you need him. 

“I need you to tell me what you want from me tonight.  Make me yours. Talk to me like I talk t’ya.” Joel’s eyes staring into yours as they widen with his admission. “I’m yours baby.”

A bit of trepidation lands in your brain. Joel’s always the one to depend on to chart the stars of your intimacy. He’s so good at predicting what you want, you let him navigate. The thoughts are silenced once you feel his hands move along your hips and thighs. You can tell he wants you to do this for him. You want Joel to experience what you feel after he’s done with you. You want him to believe in you like you believe in him. You sit up higher on him, feeling braver and bolder. Ready to bless him for his confession. 

“Okay. I’m going to get up, walk to the kitchen to get something to drink, and when I come back, I want you to stand in front of my mirrored wall over there. Keep your clothes on.”

You’re shocked by the confidence in your voice. Joel as well, his hands pause their movement as you speak. He stares at you, his mouth slightly open in surprise. 

You rise up off of Joel, folding your arms across your naked chest. “Understand?”

“Y-y-yes,” Joel stutters. 

“Good,” you wink and turn towards the kitchen, your confident steps leaving a bewildered Joel in your chair. You’ve never acted like this, your brain swirling with ideas of what you want to do, what you want to say, how you want to make him feel. 

You grab two glasses out of your cupboard and fill them with water. Your mouth is parched, you’re sure Joel’s is too. You walk back to your living room, your courage building with each step closer. You know you’re ready when you see Joel standing as instructed in front of your mirror. 

“Hi handsome,” you walk to stand behind him, still topless and only in your shorts, his eyes moving from looking at his own reflection to your chest. You wouldn’t expect less from him, you love how he looks at you.

“Hi,” Joel whispers. You think he’s a little nervous, a little excited, he probably feels exactly how you feel. 

“I’m going to watch you watch yourself get undressed. I want you to listen to me and follow my directions, okay?”

“Yes,” his simple answer resolutely spoken as you put the waters down and turn the lamp on besides you, the light bathing both of you in a smoldering golden hue. You want to fully be able to watch Joel do what you have planned for him.

“Good, I don’t want to hear much from you, okay? I’m the one talking.” 

You like this feeling, you especially like the serious nod Joel gives you through the mirror. 

“Take your shirt off.”

You watch Joel’s hands move to the hem of his t-shirt and lift it over his head. 

“Give it to me,” you step forward and extend a hand out. 

The soft gray fabric is still warm with Joel’s body heat as it hits your hand. You bring it to your nose and inhale his scent. “You smell so good all the time. I love the scent of you.” You take one last sniff before putting his shirt on, his smell now encompassing you.

“Wh—“ 

“Quiet,” you interrupt Joel’s protest, “I don’t want to hear anything out of you, I want to smell like you and wear your shirt while I make you feel good.” 

He looks a little annoyed, you like that. 

“Look at your chest. It’s perfect. I love how your shoulders are so wide and so strong. I love how your arms are muscular and yet they’re so soft when I rest my head against them. I love how soft your stomach has gotten meaning you’re well fed and healthy. You like the praise baby?”

Joel nods as his eyes darken hearing you call him one of the pet names he always calls you.

“Unbutton and unzip your pants, but don’t take them off.” Your pussy getting wetter at the thought of the sights that you’re about to see, all directed by you. All broadcast on your mirror. 

Joel nods, as he unbuttons his jeans, his fingers move to his zipper and pulls it down. You love that he never wears underwear when he comes over. You love how you can see the trail of hair from his belly button down to his bush. He’s the perfect amount of hairy. He’s the perfect amount of manly. He’s just fucking perfect.

“Good. You’re thirsty right?” He nods. You lean over to the table and pick up a glass of water. “Drink all of this. Want to watch your neck move as you swallow it down.” 

Joel takes the glass and brings it to his lips, his eye contact not breaking with yours through the reflection. He takes a large gulp brows wrinkling with seriousness for the task at hand, no matter how significant or insignificant it is. It’s so Joel.

“I love watching you drink. I love how small the mug looks in your hand when you drink your coffee in the morning. I love how you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand after downing a whole glass of water when you’re hot. I love how gently form your lips around a glass of whiskey.” You finish your praise as he empties the glass, taking it from him and placing it on the table. 

“Good. Feel better?” 

He nods.

“Take your pants off,” you think of what Joel would say in this moment. “Lemme see all of you.” 

He smirks as he starts to move his jeans down his hips, he knows you’re going to love this part. His cock springs out as it’s freed, fully erect and throbbing, you knew you’d get him good and hard with your attitude. He bends over to shuck his jeans fully off, kicking them to the side, and when he stands up, shoulders back, dick hard and ready to follow your instructions, you almost fall to your knees. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” you breathe out. His smirk still remains, he knows what he does to you. 

Your eyes roam his body, he’s so large and so thick, his body screams protector. He’s your protector. He provides for you. You love that you get to love him and make him feel this way. 

“I’m thirsty, why don’t you hand me my glass?” You love how seriously he follows your commands, like it’s the only thing that matters in the world. You love how powerful it makes you feel to see Joel readily do your every request. 

Joel turns towards the table and picks up the glass, handing it to you. 

“Thank you.” 

Another nod. 

You quickly drink the water down, save for the last quarter of it. “You’re still thirsty, aren’t you?”

This time it’s not just one slow nod from Joel, it’s three quick nods. He’s thirsty.

“Then come stand here in front of me.” 

You’ve enjoyed watching him from a couple of feet back, standing far enough to be able to see all of him in the mirror. Now that he’s right in front of you though, this is how you like him the most. Right beside you. 

You empty the rest of the water into your mouth, your cheeks swelling out with the amount you’re holding. You bring your palms up to your mouth and cup them together. Joel begins to breathe heavily as he watches you spit the water into your makeshift hand bowl.

“Now, drink it up,” you order.

He moves so fast, so eager to please. Joel’s head quickly craning down as his brown eyes look up at you. Your heart begins to race as his tongue comes out of his mouth and begins to lap up the water out of your hand. “I love how you’re looking up at me, you look at me the same way when you eat me out.” 

Joel grunts as he leans further forward and starts to suck the water up from your hand, never breaking eye contact. The groove of his dimple getting deeper as his cheeks hollow and he sucks up all of the water.

Now you wear Joel’s cocky smirk just like his shirt. You get to know him like he knows you, you get to play with his body like he plays with yours.

“Very good.” You move your hands to wrap around his erection, the slickness of the water allowing you to easily stroke him. A gruff breath leaves Joel’s mouth, the air landing against your face. You only leave your hands on him for a couple pumps, just enough until he begins to arch his back. His eyes widen as you remove your hands, a small “mmf” is let out of his pursed lips.

“I know, I know, I know you want more. You’ll get it soon. You’re being real well behaved for me, aren’t you?” 

Another nod. Joel still hasn’t spoken a word, you miss his voice but you also like to watch him challenge himself to stay quiet. 

“Face the mirror again Joel.”

He likes it when you say his name, he’s told you so many times how he likes to hear your voice say his name. 

“Touch yourself for me Joel.” 

His heavy eyes slowly shut as he bites his bottom lip with a moan, he liked that… a lot. He opens his eyes and with a look of determination, he spits in his hand before moving it down and gripping his shaft as he looks at you for his next command. 

“Stroke yourself for me.” 

He begins to slowly pump himself, savoring and watching himself in the reflection. His gaze anchoring in on pleasuring himself.

You wonder when the last time he did this was.

“When’s the last time you made yourself cum?” His movements falter as he looks up at you and takes in your question. “Go ahead, you can talk, tell me.” 

“That last night you were painting f’me,” a half smile shows up on his face as he begins to stroke again. 

Now you’re the one who only nods, your words lost at his confession. “Go on,” you muster up. You need to hear more. 

“Went to bed that night, ’n all I could see was your pretty eyes lookin’ up at me, how you looked in those overalls, I felt like I could still feel your lips on mine.” His strokes getting quicker, his hand pausing as he twists his hand around his tip. “Was so hard for you, had to take care of things before I could fall asleep.” 

Your whole body shivers, his words making your pussy begin to drip out onto your shorts. The look of his face as he recalls his memories. Those words added to all of his others that prove to you again that you have Joel’s heart, mind and body. He is yours. 

“God. Th—that’s good,” you breathe out, your eyes widening when you watch him bite his lip as he squeezes his cock. He has you flustered, and he knows, his mouth grinning into the signature cocky smirk he gets whenever you get like this. As if his sense of self blooms whenever he makes your heart race. 

You can’t allow him this pleasure over you, you’re the one in control tonight. You remind yourself that this is what Joel wants. You steel yourself and stand a little taller. 

“Stop,” you bark out. 

He obeys, mouth slacking open in shock at your raised voice. His hand unwrapping from around himself. 

“Good job, I think you were getting a little too comfortable, weren’t you?” 

Joel just stares at you, seems he forgot to nod. 

“I can’t let you have the power tonight, can I? Acknowledge me Joel.”

“N—no,” an actual stutter from Joel Miller’s mouth. Not a grunt, not a short one word answer, an actual nervous stutter. 

“That’s right. Now, I think you’ve had too much fun putting on a show for me. Go sit in the middle of the couch.” 

He nods, his broad frame passes by you, he doesn’t even take the time to look at you. 

You follow behind and wait until he takes a seat. You love seeing Joel on your couch, in your bed, using one of your bowls to eat oatmeal out of. You love seeing him in your space, all comfortable and domestic, but seeing him now naked on your couch, his hard cock sitting straight up, his large hands sitting atop his strong thighs, shoulders taking up most of the backrest of his seat, sitting ready to listen to your commands.  This is how you really like to see him. He’s fucking gorgeous. 

“So, you had your fun with your body, I want to have my fun with your body,” you stand over him. Now your body gets to loom over his. 

You bring the collar of Joel’s shirt up to your nose, inhale deeply and moan. “Have I told you before how much I love how your smell? Sometimes I’ll be wearing one of your shirts to bed I’ll smell your scent on it and it’ll make me wet while I’m trying to go to sleep.” The sound from Joel’s mouth makes you bolder. “One night, I might just knock on your door, in only your shirt and my jacket, make you help me take care of what smelling you does to me. Would you like that?” 

Joel shudders and furiously nods.

“Ohh, had a feeling you would,” you chuckle as you remove his shirt off of you. “I’m going to do something I've been wanting to do, okay?”

A nod, a groan, and a sigh now. The more reactions you get at once, the more you know how good you’re doing. 

You pull down your shorts, and kick them aside. His fingers grip into his thighs, his forearms straining at the sight of you. He’s going through it. 

“Can you see me glisten for you baby?” You ask as you lift your foot onto the couch cushion and snake your hand down in between your legs. “See how wet I got watching you touch yourself for me?” You take a finger and run it across your folds gathering your wetness. You hold it up for Joel, his eyes glued to your finger. “Open your mouth.” 

He listens. You slide your finger into his mouth, his lips forming around it, a low moan vibrating against it. 

“Put your hands on the couch, you can’t touch me, you can only watch. Okay?” 

Joel obeys. He still sucks your finger as you straddle his thigh. His skin radiates heat against you once you place your wet pussy on it. You’ve wanted to do this since you saw his bare legs for the first time, his thighs are so muscular and yet so supple, much like the rest of his features. Joel groans as you begin to ride his thigh, rubbing yourself back and forth against his skin. 

“You like how wet my pussy feels on your thigh?” You pull your finger out of his mouth. “Answer me Joel. Want to hear your voice.”

“Yes.”

“What do you like?” 

“Your wet pussy on my th— I like your wet pussy on my thigh,” his low cadence and the pressure against your aching cunt pushing you close to your orgasm.

“I’m going to make myself cum on your thigh, okay? I’m so close.” You begin to grind your hips down on his his thigh, putting the perfect amount of friction against your clit. 

Your hands splay against Joel’s chest, feeling his breaths and his moans rumble against your palms.

“I’m gonna cum on your thigh Joel.” You grab and pull on his chest hair as your climax reaches you, cresting over and spilling onto Joel’s thigh as you grind against it. Joel’s eyes boring into you looking forlorn and tortured that he can’t touch you as you cum on him. 

You rest your head against his shoulder as you catch your breath. You need to recover quickly, you’re ready to ride him. 

Joel grumbles as you stand back up. 

“Would you look at that? Look down baby, look how wet I got your thigh.” You place your hands on his thighs, a hand resting in the puddle of your slick left on his skin. You lean forward as he looks down and nibble the bare skin of his heart patch before licking your way down his neck and chest. “Should probably clean that up, huh?” You ask as your rest your lips against the plush of his belly before gently biting it. 

He groans as you move your mouth down, bypassing his hard cock to the side. You stick your tongue out and lick a long stripe up his thigh tasting yourself as you clean his skin. His breathing turns more labored as he watches you lick yourself up.

“Mm, wonder how I’d taste licking my cum off your cock?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his crotch, his hard cock throbbing against your cheek.

His hips jut as you turn your head and kiss the shaft of him. 

“You’re going to cum fast for me, aren’t you?” You leave a kiss on his shaft higher than your last one.

“I love how hard you always cum for me,” another kiss moving your way up his hardness. 

“I love the way you fuck my mouth while you cum down my throat,” another kiss.

“I love the way my name sounds as you chant it when I make your legs shake,” another kiss right under his tip.

“I love how your cum tastes as I lick it from my lips,” another kiss on his tip, tasting the precum collected on it. 

“Fuck,” he finally utters, not being able to hold back as you lick along the trail of where you just kissed him.

“Shhhh,” you silence against the soft skin of his firmness. “I think it’s about time for me to fuck you, before you get any more ideas about talking.”

Another deep exhale from him, his nose flaring in frustration. You fucking love this. 

“Put your hands on the top of your head, and don’t you dare lower them. Don’t touch me, okay?”

Joel nods raising his hands as you plant yourself back on the couch, straddling his legs. His eyes follow your body, his brows a bit more furrowed now. 

You hover your pussy over his cock, leaving enough space between the two of you that if he really wanted, he could raise his hips and stick his cock in, but he doesn’t. He wants to do good for you. 

“Open your mouth,” you angle your head forward, your lips right in front of his. Joel’s mouth opens, his heavy breathing hitting you in the face, as you lick into his mouth.

You swirl your hips over his cock slowly lowering yourself on him, you’re so soaked for him he easily slides into you. 

A long sigh escapes the back of his throat as you begin to ride him. You pull back from his mouth and rest your hands against his chest. His hands still sit on top of his head, you glance up and see how he’s grabbing at his hair in exasperation. 

He watches as you move your hands from his chest to yours, cupping your breasts and playing with your nipples. 

“Like watching me touch my tits like the way you do? Like how I pinch and pull my nipples like you?”

High pitched moans and groans of frustration leave his mouth. Joel Miller is whimpering. 

“Shhhh, shhh, I know baby. Now quiet. Want to hear my wet pussy ride you, stay quiet,” you say grabbing his jaw and pushing his mouth shut. 

You begin fucking him harder, the sound of your wet cunt bouncing on him and his whimpers the only sounds in the room. You lean forward and rest your head in the juncture between his head and shoulder. You slam yourself up and down on him, the rapidness of your movements matching the rapidness of your heart as you bring yourself close to your orgasm.

Your back straightens as you place your hands on his biceps, staring in his big brown eyes as your body snaps, your pussy clutching his cock as you cum around Joel. He bites his bottom lip fighting his orgasm for as long as he can. His biceps straining against your grasp as you feel his body begin to quake. 

“Clooooose,” he husks. You slip out of him, moving quickly on shaky legs through the aftershocks of your orgasm kneeling down in front of him. His hands are still in his hair as he looks down at you, watching you seal your mouth over him. You bob your head up and down on him as he cums down your throat. 

You swallow all of him down as he chants your name. His hands lower, resting against the hollows of your cheeks as you still keep his softening cock in your mouth.

You stare up at him, his hair left awry and twisted from his hands, eyes wide and still blown out as he blinks down at you, his chest rising and falling still catching his breath. He looks at you, like you’re the only thing in this world. You are the center of his universe. 

#tw marijuana #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller ff #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #elks #joel the last of us

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Getting fucked by ghostface!Billy in an alley on your way back from Tatum’s. He tried to scare you and pull this little stunt, but you figure out it was him

More Billy, YES (this is 1.5k, enjoy)

Please read the warnings before reading this one, some of the content might make you uncomfortable or be triggering for you

Warnings: 18+, dub-con, semi-public sex, p + v, non-protected sex, creampie,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

‘’Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Dewey to drive you home? He should be there at ten,’’ Tatum asked again as you were getting ready to leave. ‘’The psychos are out at this hour...’’ 

You declined her offer. ‘’I can’t. My parents will have my head if I'm not home before curfew.’’ You grabbed your backpack and opened the door. ‘’See you tomorrow!’’ You waved at her before stepping out and closing the door. 

The chill autumn air brushing your face and the fallen leaves swished on the ground around you as you walked down the Rileys’ driveway and took the sidewalk. You didn’t particularly enjoy walking alone at night — no women did, honestly —, but Tatum’s house was only a few blocks from yours. 

On the way, you admired all the carved pumpkins out on the porches and other halloween decorations, making you miss when you were kids. Halloween was still fun as a teenager, but no parties could beat trick-or-treating and exchanging candies with your friends. 

As you turned on Elm street, a growing unease pricked at your senses. Someone was following you. Your steps became quicker, but not quick enough that your change of pace would alert the person behind you. The last thing you wanted was to let him know that you knew he was following you. He could take a run after you and it would be done for you.

You thought of going back to Tatum’s, maybe Dewey was home from work, but you were almost home. Instead, you took the shortcut to your house and turned in an alley, thinking you could kick a trash can at your pursuer's feet in case he tried anything, but a shadow loomed over you. Panic surged through you, and before you could react, a gloved hand swiftly clamped over your mouth, stifling the scream that tried to escape.

Fear pulsed within you, your mind racing to comprehend the situation. You struggled against the grip, your instincts kicking in as you fought to break free. The scent of leather filled your nostrils as you twisted and wriggled, attempting to loosen the stranger's hold.

A distorted voice pierced the air, its chilling words sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’Don’t you know walking home by yourself at night is a danger-magnet? Especially with a tight little skirt like yours,’’ he said as the hand that wasn’t over your mouth slid up your thigh, making your heart race in fear of what was going to happen. 

A sickening feeling twisted in your stomach. Maybe you should have waited for Dewey to drive you home. Your parents would have been mad for not respecting your curfew, but at least you would have been safe. 

You tried to scream again, and fight back, but the stranger only laughed at your attempts. 

‘’You’re not gonna escape me, babydoll,’’ the distorted voice laughed, tightening their grip and pressing your front against the brick wall of a building. ‘’If you try, I’ll gut you like a fish.’’ Something cool touched your leg and tears pricked in your eyes. 

A knife. 

Tatum was right about psychos being out at this hour…

You turned your head slightly, trying to see who was holding you, but all you saw was a strange halloween white mask with a black hood. 

‘’Have you ever been told how good your ass looked in that skirt? Bet your boyfriend likes to take you from behind, uh?’’ The hand that was on your thigh moved up, pulling your skirt and lifting it up, making your skin crawl. 

The night air hit your bare ass, completely exposed to the masked stranger, and you pressed your thighs together. You doubted it would stop the man from doing anything, but you could at least try. 

‘’Mmh, what a nice ass,’’ he pointed out, smacking his hand on your ass-cheek, the sound resonating in the alley, and grabbing it. You squeaked at the impact. ‘’I can’t wait to feel it against me as I pound in your tight pussy.’’

Your stomach churned. Your night was turning into a nightmare. 

‘’Now, I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, but if you dare scream…’’ he trailed with a threat.

You nodded, having no other choice. He was the one with the knife.

‘’Spread those legs, hands on the wall,’’ he ordered, the distorted voice glitching a little, causing you to hear the man’s real voice. It sounded familiar, like you had heard it before, but a lot of men had similar voices. 

Shaking that thought, you obeyed and parted your legs, holding a hiss when pressing your hands against the rough brick.   

‘’Now what?’’ you spat, looking over your shoulder.  

The stranger chuckled, then pushed himself up against the curve of your ass, letting you feel his erection through his clothes, the hardness and heat radiating from his body admittedly kind of hot. ‘’Now I'm gonna stick it in you and rearrange your insides, you dumb fucking bitch.’’

You gasped at his words, arousal leaking through your panties. 

A car drove by on the other end of the alley, making the both of you go completely still. Minutes ago, you would have been relieved that a car was driving by. Not anymore. A sick and twisted part of you wanted the masked stranger to fuck you against that wall. 

Once the car was out of earshot, the masked man another grope of your ass, then pulled aside your underwear, running a gloved hand over your folds and discovering your little secret. 

‘’Is this…turning you on?’’ 

You kept quiet, disgusted and ashamed of yourself. 

He laughed, keeping going with the teasing by pressing a finger inside you, making you gasp as you automatically clamped around it. ‘’It is turning you on.’’ You heard the smirk in his voice. ‘’Dirty little slut.’’ 

You whined at his words, his finger moving in and out, but not nearly enough. ‘’Please,’’ you surprised yourself by saying, chasing his finger. ‘’I need more.’’ 

If anyone were to see you right now, you would be mortified. Not only were you getting sexually assaulted by a masked stranger in an alley, but you were enjoying it. It was sick.

Much too soon, he removed his finger, making you whine in protest. You turned your head to glance at him, but his head was down and you couldn’t see much. 

‘’Think you can handle my cock in you? Your slutty little cunt is weeping around my finger,’’ he said as he reached beneath his robe, fighting with his belt buckle and zipper to free himself. 

Your stomach bubbled with excitement, your teeth catching your bottom lip when you felt his hard cock pressing against your entrance. You pushed back against him, the hard press of his tip prodding at you, his pre-cum mixing with your leaking arousal. 

Your jaw dropped as you felt his cock part your folds, pushing himself all the way inside before stilling for a few seconds. Fuck. His dick was filling you so good. He gave a first snap of hips and a moan escaped from your lips, louder than you were expecting. 

Behind you, the masked man stopped moving, clamping a hand over your mouth as he hissed in your ear. ‘’Keep quiet or I’ll stop playing with your cute little cunt. Can't get caught, can we?’’ he warned, forgetting to use the voice distorter and giving himself away. 

‘’Billy Loomis, you sick fu—’’ 

Your words were cut off as his thick cock plunged back into you, making you moan instead. 

Billy laughed. ‘’Surprise, babydoll.’’ He gripped your hip firmly with one hand, the second coming around your throat while he was pounding in you from behind, stars flying around in your vision as the pleasure filled your whole body, explicit groans and muffled moans filling the dark alley.

‘’Always so fucking tight,’’ he grunted, getting really hot under the mask. Halloween costumes were not made to be worn during sex. 

You tried your best to brace yourself, both hands flat on the brick wall as Billy kept pistoning into you, your legs were shaking with the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. ‘’Ahh, yes, just like that!’’ 

After he emptied himself and rode the waves of your respective pleasure, Billy slipped out from you, a white string of hot cum connecting you to him. He smirked under the mask, loving to watching himself leak from your abused pussy and drip out and down your leg. 

‘’You’re insane,’’ you said, turning around to face your boyfriend, your wrinkled skirt still bunched up at your waist. 

Laughing, Billy pulled the mask off his face, his lips curved into a wicked grin. ‘’The best people are.’’ 

You both fixed yourself in silence, having enough played with public indecency for tonight. As thrilling and exciting as this had been, you didn’t want an actual stranger to see you exposed like that.  

‘’How did you know I just left Tatum’s?’’ 

‘’Stu,’’ he explained. ‘’Tatum called him saying you just left, so I put on that sweet little costume and decided to surprise you. Did you like it?’’ 

You grabbed the front of the black robe and kissed him in response.

—

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All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

#billy loomis #billy loomis imagine #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #scream #scream imagine

[mysicklove]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

DAY 7: FEMINIZATION

With: Yuuji Itadori

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: sub! yuuji, gn! reader, men in skirts/feminine clothing, yuuji being shy and embaressed the entire time, teasing reader, praise, reader refers to him as a "she" and "her" throughout the entire thing, handjob

A/N: In my head i see yuuji to be very shy when it comes to sex. ppl most likely dont see him this way, so it may be ooc of him. idk u tell me.

“Is this really necessary?” 

You grin, freaking out on the inside, but trying to hold your composure. Dark eyes flicker to yours, and he pouts, tugging at the fabric with nerves.

You managed to convince Itadori into wearing the cutest pink short skirt, so short that his tip peeks out from below the fabric, and he's uselessly pulling it down to try to cover it. He wears a white v-neck tank top, that slightly exposes his chest due to the lack of cleavage he possesses. And finally, you convinced him to wear white frilly thigh highs. 

His face matches the skirt, and he's gulping under your gaze. “Its embarrassing,” he complains lowly, padding his way over to you. He stands in front of you while you sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. Your hands drag over the soft fabric, admiring the texture, and rubbing it between your thumb and pointer finger.

“Soft,” You mumble, leaning forward and resting your head on his hip. He jumps slightly when he feels you just graze his groin. The boy reaches his hand down and rests it on your head, petting it with a blush on his face.

“My pretty girl.”

He uses the other hand to cover his eyes, a wobbly smile on his face. “I’m not a girl,” Yuuji replies, looking away from you as his body begins to heat up.

You grin at him, and move backward on the bed, pulling him forward toward you. You rest your back against the headboard and pat your lap, signalling for him to sit on it. He pauses, and then shakes his head.  “Cmon, sit Yuuji.”

“I'm too heavy,” He replies, playing with his hands a little nervously.

You grab them and pull them forward, sending him stumbling forward and into your lap. He quickly maneuvers himself to straddle you, not letting his entire weight on you. He didn't mind having to hold himself just slightly up, he rather that then to be nervous of him accidentally hurting you. “Aw, you are showing,” You say, smiling at his lap.

The skirt must have flipped upward with his movements, because now his cock is on full display. It's hard, and throbbing against the pink fabric. He pulls the skirt down immediately, hands moving to cover it as quickly as possible. 

You pout at him, hands moving on top of his. “Wanna see your pretty cock. Bet it will look so cute with your outfit,” You murmur, pressing your lips to his chest, covered by the thin tank top.

His ears burn, and his eyes flicker to yours. “You're being so weird,” He half-heartedly complains, gulping when he feels your mouth bite one of his nipples. 

“Can't help but be a perv to my cute little girlfriend.”

He lets out a small whine, arm raising to cover his face. It's so rare for him to be flustered, usually pretty confident in his position in bed, but the second he tries something new he seems to crumble under your gaze. It was cute, watching your usual puppy like boyfriend turn shy. “B-Boyfriend…And I'm not cute, nor little,” He uselessly reasons to you, fidgeting with anything his hands can find.

You pull back his skirt before he could process your movements. Yuuji lets out a small yelp, and tries to cover himself, but you move his hands away. “Hmmm, don't know, your girl cock seems to get excited whenever I mention the word girlfriend,” You tease, rubbing a finger up his shaft, as his face heats up.

“G-Girl cock? Stop it,” he whines, gripping onto your waist with a pout. It gives you a view of his chest, and you hum, dragging your finger over his right nipple. He doesn't say anything, letting you do what you want, even if he jumps lightly from when you gently pinch him.

Eventually when you grow bored, and his cocks begins to leak, you move your hand to his mouth. He makes eyecontact with you, asking for confirmation, so you nod, and he moves himself toward the cupped palm and spits in it. 

You coo at him, and he shakes his head, pulling away from the hand, and watching as you move it down to his dick. Your now wet hand begins to stroke him off, him twitching in your hold, trying not to get too excited and blow his load too fast. 

“Look Yuuji, you are so wet.”

He sighs, and without realizing the meaning behind it, nods at your words. You in return kiss his cheek, using your other hand to rub your hands up and down his chest. “Such pretty tits. So big.”

“B-Been working on my chest for a bit,” He whispers and you can't help but laugh. He wasn't lying though, over the years you've known him, his frame has gotten bigger, and with it, his pectoral muscles. 

He groans, eyes falling shut, and unconsciously leaning deeper into you. More of his weight falls on your lap, but you don't mind, focusing solely on your hands traveling his body. “Is it okay if I cum?”

You chuckle at him, teasingly pinching one of his nipples. “So soon?”

He whines at the words, feeling the familiar blush creep upon him. No matter how many times you've done it, he always gets uncharacteristically shy, and way too excited. It was like you were fucking a virgin, but you always found it cute, how the second the two of you fall into bed he can barely look at you. “Sorry.”

Your hand picks up the pace, and he slumps against you, eyes hazy as he approaches his high. “It's alright. You feeling good, pretty?”

He begins to pant into your neck, his breath warm, and his pink hair brushing against your shoulder. “Mhmmm. W-Wanna cum, please.”

You nibble on his ear, and whisper, “Tell me about how pretty you are.”

His first reaction is to shake his head and deny you, embarrassed by this entire thing, but he knows that he will cum better with your approval. So he gulps, and nods, before mumbling a weak, “I think I am pretty.”

You run a hand through his pink hair. “What is pretty about you?”

He whines your name, eyes traveling up to meet yours. Itadori continues to frown, even with his breathy moans from the stroke of your hand. You focus on the tip, rubbing your thumb around his slit, and he gasps, eyes slightly rolling back. “My–My….Body?”

You pull down his tank top, kissing his chest, and then his neck. “Super pretty. Looks so good in the cute clothing, right?” He nods, mostly out of habit, but you don't say anything, just humming for him to continue.

It's getting harder for him to think, but he needs to go quickly, because he is getting closer to cumming with each passing second. His hips begin to rock into your hand. “Um…My face?”

"One of the reasons that you are so loveable," You compliment, planting a kiss to his lips, and when you pull away, he tries to follow, looking away with a red face when you snicker at him. “One more, then you can cum.”

He tries to think about something, but the sound of your hand squelching up and down his cock is getting him distracted. He begins to stare at himself getting stroked, panting from directly above it. He grips onto the fabric of the pink skirt, and then looks back at you. “My dick?”

“She is so pretty. And look at all the attention she is getting.” Referring to his cock as a “she” makes him twitch, and he wants to hide his face again. Some part of him feels humiliated by it, and with the humiliation, came arousal. 

“Y-Yeah. Um, can I now? I’m really really close,” Yuuji pleads, making eye contact with you, and leans in so close that his lips just graze your own. 

You nod at him, smiling. “Go ahead lovely.”

He nods, pressing his lips to yours for about ten more seconds until his breaths become heavier, and his orgasm hits him. He trembles, pulling away from your mouth to bury his fingers into his skirt. Small moans are released, and you stroke him through it all, watching as the white liquid stains the pink fabric. “Good girl. Doing so well,” You coo through it all, and he tries to nod, but fails.

A couple seconds go by, and he's come down from his high, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away his cum with a rag, smiling when his body jerks slightly from overstimulation. “That was…Nice.”

“Yeah? You seemed to be pretty embaressed.”

He laughs lightly. “No, I definitely was. Being called a girl feels…weird. No offense to girls!  I like girls a lot! Just I am a boy, so it's just–weird!” He stammers out, returning back to his usual chatty and upbeat behavior. 

You laugh at him and he grins at you. “But I didnt mind it…It was fun.”

“Next time we should put you in makeup and panties,” You say, raising your eyebrows suggestively.

His eyes widen and his ears burn with embarrassment. “Panties? H-How? I am a guy, I can't wear girls underwear!” He exclaims, grabbing onto your shoulder lightly to get his point across.

You chuckle at him. “I know plenty of guys who wear girls underwear,” You lie, knowing that it will trigger some sort of reaction.

And you were right, he immediately finds himself feeling jealous. “What? You have seen guys in panties? Why havent you told me about this. You can't just say that! Who have you seen?”

You play into the joke, pushing him off of you with a grin, and turning over, looking at the opposite wall. “Can't tell you. It's a secret.”

He shakes your body to try to get you to look at him, “Secret? Hey! Don't go to sleep, this is important!” 

And by the end of it all, you convinced him to wear panties under his skirt next time.

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#mello.writes #Barkforme! #Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #gn reader #x reader #reader insert #sub itadori #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #yuji itadori smut #yuji smut #itadori smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #yuuji smut #yuuji x reader #yuuji itadori smut

[arachine]

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.  

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless. 

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing. 

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving. 

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin. 

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts. 

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you. 

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual. 

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood. 

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him.  For him to have and hold, to keep safe. 

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak. 

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.  

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal. 

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again. 

“Can I kiss you down here?” 

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive. 

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him. 

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head. 

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth. 

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good. 

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks. 

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula. 

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle. 

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality. 

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air. 

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock. 

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed. 

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway. 

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs. 

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed. 

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears. 

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax. 

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming. 

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force. 

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue. 

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state. 

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed. 

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief. 

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth. 

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.” 

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe. 

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining. 

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him. 

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it. 

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected. 

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all. 

© arachine 2023

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader #atwow smut #avatar the way of water smut

[coqvttes]

hihihii!! its sofi anon again and OH MY GOD? Your message was so beautiful, I saw it in the middle of class (college is killing me) and I kept reading it like a 18th century woman reading her lovers letter. Thank you so much for your kind and respectful words, they mean the world to me, ilysm ♡♡

As for the event, also thank you in advance for letting me request, I wanted to ask for a nsfw ꒰ 🧁 ꒱: there’s this beautiful place in Italy called Fontanile Quarantina, and I just imagine reader going somewhere like that with Capt. Price for a cute picnic date, it’s just the two of them and they eat strawberries and cream, and get a little messy with it enough to end up making love, but the kind that’s hard and sensual, with so much love in the air and many praises. Sorry if it got kinda long, I got inspired, this is so fun! I know you’re gon be amazing. Have a super lovely day/night ･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏. — 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐗.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 hii! thank you for your sweet messages! i’m so sorry this took so long? but this is so sweet! love u sofi, take care! (i made it long to make up!)

synopsis : what starts off as an innocent picnic date by the beautiful lake, turns into something intimate when john just can’t get enough of you when you try some strawberries.

warnings : nsfw 16+, fem!reader, sub!reader, public sex, praise, dom!john, super fluffy, p in v.

wc : 800

the gentle stream of the river brushes over you bare feet as you stand on the various pebbles, your ankles tickled by the little flowers that grow on the bank of the river as you admire the ethereal scenery before you and your lover.

a beautiful day out. just the two of you, just the way you like it. you almost lose yourself as you take in the beauty of your gorgeous surroundings until a familiar arm wraps around your waist. john pulls you back to the picnic blanket that you’ve set up and you smile at the little basket of various fruits and cream that he’s prepared.

you pick up one of the strawberries, a particularly ripe one and dip it into the cream, swirling it around a few times to get a good amount before taking a bite out of it, eyes widening as the sweetness floods your tastebuds and you let out a noise of enjoyment that goes straight to johns cock.

john finds himself staring at the cream smeared across your plump lips as you continue to enjoy the strawberry, beaming at him from the sweetness.

you sweet thing, so oblivious to how bad he needs you, how your innocent touches are not so innocent to him, how your skirt keeps flipping up with the wind but you just don’t notice, and gosh how you just looks so adorable right now.

“it’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you whisper, turning you head to stare at the view once more before turning back when you get no response.

“mm you are,” your breath hitches when you feel his lips press against your neck, littering the area with tender kisses that start off innocent but grow into something more, something hungry.

you realise that you need him just as much as he needs you and suddenly your laying on the blanket, his rough hands trailing up under your sundress, caressing your soft thighs before settling at the lace of your underwear.

a blush adorns your features when he unties the delicate strings of your dress before pulling it down to bunch up at your waist, your bare tits now on full display for him and anyone else that may pass by.

a gasp spills from your lips when his fingers toy and tug at your sensitive nipples, his hungry lips enveloping one of them, coating it with his saliva.

you can’t help but arch into his touch, craving for more of it, for more of him, and he gives it to you, always caring for your pleasure.

you don’t even know when he pulled his trousers down but he’s tugging his cock out of his pants and lining himself up with your entrance. you look up at him through your lashes with those wide eyes that adore him so much and he smiles fondly at you.

the wetness that has accumulated earns a low groan from john as he slowly slips inside the warmth of your cunt, your eyes are locked onto his loving ones that gaze down at you in awe.

“g-gentle, john—” at your breathless plea, he moves the strand of hair that blocks him from seeing your gorgeous face and he grins down at you, cheekily.

“always,” he whispers, stealing your lips away into a passionate kiss, he sighs against you mouth before slowly dragging his length in and out of you in a sensual rhythm. he wraps your legs around his waist before pushing flush against you.

his beard tickles your face and your almost giggle is cut off when he hits a particular spot inside you that has you whimpering for him just the way he likes it.

he thinks you look like an angel beneath him, he’s never felt luckier with how the sun shines down on you so perfectly illuminating your beauty for him to remember forever. with the way you look up at him vulnerably with so much love in your eyes, so much innocence, so much trust, he could never get bored of this sight.

delighted mewls and moans bubble up in your throat as you hold onto his arms, his forehead practically pressing against yours. he hushes your noises with a fervent kiss, his lips capturing your own so perfectly as if you were made for him.

he rolls his hips one last time before spilling his warmth into you, releasing a low moan that makes your cunt flutter around him as you topple over the edge with him. his kisses your cheek as he slowly slips out of you, pulling your dress back up for you.

he swears he’s the luckiest man ever with how a sweet girl like yourself could be so perfect for him, to do something so intimate with him in public like this.

he sees how your beauty matches the scenery that frames you so perfectly and he promises himself he’ll cherish this memory forever…♡︎

‧˚ʚɞ˚‧ all works belong to © coqvettes 2023. i do not give permission to claim, translate or copy any of my works. reblogs are appreciated!

#꒰ ୨୧ : coqvttes picnic event ꒱ #꒰ 🧁 ꒱ — fairy cakes #₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ — letters #𓏲 ˖. ♡̷̸ — sofi nonnie 𓂃 #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #cod #cod mwii #cod mw2 #call of duty smut #call of duty #call of duty x reader #john price smut #john price x reader #john price #captain price #captain price smut #captain price x reader #captain john price smut #captain john price x reader #call of duty modern warfare 2 #john price call of duty #captain john price #john price cod #simon riley smut

[overnowsfcb]

worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

#pedri x reader #pedri angst #pedri smut #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football smut #pedri imagine

[pedriswife]

OMG I JS SAW UR REBLOG ON THE GAVI AND XAVI THING ON UR REPLY ACC AND I GOT AN IDEA

can you do a smut where like reader asks why gavi never ties his shoes and reader teases him and he keeps denying that he cant and he really cant tie his shoes so reader ties it for him and when reader got down on her knees to tie it for him he gets like… hard 🤭 and smut HEHEHEHHEHE

shoelaces (smut)

"Pablo, tie your laces, you'll fall straight on your face one day," you sighed, your boyfriend completely ignoring you as he walked around the hallway with his trainers untied, almost stepping on them everytime he made a move.

"I never do my shoelaces, it's a waste of time. And I never fall," he scoffed, acting offended at your suggestion. As the two of you were getting ready to go out, he took your hand in his, his thumb stroking soothing circles over your flesh.

You smiled at the action, yet you didn't want to give up so easily - "I'll do them for you, it'll be quick you can even time me to see its not a waste of time," you said, kneeling on the floor, taking in the laces in your fingers, tying loops on one shoe before moving to the other and doing the same.

"See? All done, nice and fast," you said proudly, dusting off your knees before looking up at gavi, a slight blush covering his face, his hand coming down to stroke your hair.

"Well, thank you princesa, but now we have a bit of a problem," he stated, his eyes moving to look at his growing hard on, your gaze following as you felt yourself get wetter at his insinuations.

You bit your lip, gavi still smirking down at you, his hand forming a quick makeshift ponytail of your hair, your fingers grasping at the band of his trousers, pulling them down just to reveal his hard cock, straining in his boxers, begging to be let out.

You left open-mouthed kisses over his v line, sometimes tugging at the skin to leave a mark that he could savour later before reaching his boxers, wasting no time in pulling them down to his knees. You blew some air over his cock, making him hiss at impact, something along the lines of "don't tease" leaving his lips.

Licking a stripe over his base, you swirled your tongue over his tip, licking up the precum, then sucking on it, wanting to tease more out of him, groans heard throughout the hallway.

He gently guided you to take in more, watching through fluttering eyelashes the sight of you going down on him, your eyes looking straight into his as you bobbed your head, your moans sending vibrations down his dick, only elevating the pleasure.

Saliva gathered at the corners of your lips, your eyes teary as you continued to move up and down on him, humming around his cock to prevent yourself from gagging.

"Just like that princesa, I'm close," he groaned out, his voice unstable as the pleasure coursing through his body.

Feeling him twitch in your mouth, signalling you that he was close, you only sped up your movements, eager to bring him to his orgasm. You brought up your hand to stroke the parts that your mouth couldn't reach, his head thrown back as he involuntarily bucked his hips into your mouth, his sounds only encouraging you to make him cum.

He finally reached his high, his load shooting down your throat, some left over at the corners of your lips, taking his spent cock out of your mouth just to show him you swallowing his cum, profanities leaving his mouth at the action.

His fucked out gaze now admired your dishevelled state, your hair a mess, your mascara pooling around your eyes, your lips plump and a tint of red.

"I'll let you tie my laces more often if it ends like this."

A/N: I hope you like this anon, I changed it up a bit, hopefully you don't mind. Also, not my best work so if shit hits the fan, it's getting DELETED😭

#pedriswife answers #fc barca #fc barcelona #gavi #pablo gavi smut #gavi smut #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavira #pablo gavi #pablo martín páez gavira

[itsgameofthronesimagines]

Can you do an Otto Hightower Where the reader is Viserys and Daemon’s younger sister where she has a secret relationship with Otto. Daemon being a protective older brother. She could join in on meetings (like Rhaenyra did in the show) and they could have longing stares, secret touches, and they sneak around? Fast forward to when Viserys fires him, the Reader begs him to take her with him because she loves him but he promises he’ll return and he asks her to wait for him. Time jump to where she is older and this takes place at Laena’s funeral, they finally reunite! They could have a similar beach scene like Rhaenyra and Daemon did? Please please! I’m the dork who like characters like Otto and Tywin…

Title: We Light The Way

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Pairing: Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7,266

Warnings: Heated makeout sessions. Vulgar language. Age gaps. NSFW. Smut towards the end. DNI unless you are 18+. By clicking the ‘read more’ button, you are knowingly reading at your own risk. P in V (wrap it before you tap it)

Summary: Princess Y/n Targaryen, sister to Prince Daemon and sister to King Viserys, knows that her brothers turn a blind eye if she doesn’t act like their innocent baby sister. So she uses that to her advantage and sneaks around with a certain Hand of the King...

Taglist: @leniabranch (I believe you wanted to be tagged the next time I uploaded an Otto imagine)

A/N: You mentioned Tywin and now I’m curious what it would be like to write about his character... also I’m so sorry if you weren’t requesting nsfw. You mentioned Rhaenyra’s and Daemon’s scene and I got carried away. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

"So, I said to him, 'Well, I believe you might be looking up the wrong end.'"

The lords of the King's Council all laugh at Viserys' joke, all except Lord Corlys, of course. Princess Y/n Targaryen watches from the small crack in the doorway after having just come back from refilling the wine pitcher in hand, not yet wanting to interrupt the impending doom the Sea Snake always tries to bring attention to her brother.

"My lords," right on cue, Corlys stands up while unraveling a map, "The growing alliance among the Free Cities has taken to styling itself 'the Triarchy.' They have massed on Bloodstone and are presently ridding the Stepstones of its pirate infestation."

Viserys looks around before his eyes land back on the Sea Snake, hands absently playing with the egg from his platter, "Well, that sounds suspiciously like good news, Lord Corlys."

"A man called Craghas Drahar has styled himself the prince-admiral of this Triarchy," Corlys gravely reports, "They call him 'The Crabfeeder'--"

Y/n's eavesdropping is interrupted when she hears soft footsteps make their way down the hall. Looking over her shoulder, she finds her niece, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, quickly bounding down her way to the older woman, "There you are. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Aunt. It won't happen again," Rhaenyra breathes, rushing to straighten her hair and dress as she joins Y/n at the door.

"You mean it won't happen a third time?" Y/n quirks a sharp eyebrow while knowingly staring down the young girl, a corner of her lips rising to a smirk as she brushes Rhaenyra's hair off her shoulder, "If I have to serve my brother and his council another round of wine by my lonesome, I should soon throw myself out the window of the Red Keep or resign to shoveling dragon shit."

Rhaenyra grins, quite similar to her aunt's, and both princesses huff amusedly under their breaths before pushing the doors open to the King's council room. They bound up the steps as the conversation Y/n was spying on continued.

"And are we meant to weep for dead pirates?" Viserys questioned Lord Corlys.

"No, Your Grace--"

"Rhaenyra, you're late," Viserys catches sight of his daughter as she rounds the table to him, "The King's cupbearer must not be late. Leaves people wanting for cups."

"I was visiting Mother." Rhaenyra leans down and kisses her father's temple in greeting.

Viserys theatrically sniffs the air around her, playfully eyeing his daughter with suspicion, "On dragonback?"

Rhaenyra smirks before turning away, gladly taking the wine pitcher from Y/n once her aunt flashes her a teasing smile. With the young princess serving the councilmen, Y/n stands off to the left of her brother, Viserys, hands respectfully folded in front of her. The discussion of the Stepstones drag on and Y/n starts to drown it out. It was not new of Lord Corlys to try and have Viserys and the other councilmembers take his matters seriously, no matter what threat Driftmark may face ruling over the Narrow Sea. By now, Y/n has mastered ignoring certain voices on the King's council, her ears only perking up when something new and interesting is afoot, otherwise, she quickly grows bored of these meetings, despite having the honor of taking part in them.

The only reason she finds these meetings bearable is when she has all the time in the world and every reason to stare at Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, without question or judgment. And putting herself behind King Viserys gives Lord Otto all the more reason to longingly stare back, always flashing her a small smile from under his facial hair. Long meetings like this are always Y/n's favorite because meals will be served and she has a reason to present Otto with a platter of food or a refill of wine. So when her hand innocently brushes his, no one bats an eye.

Their secret relationship was still new since Lord Otto has taken the appropriate amount of time to mourn his wife. Y/n's stomach would still flutter like a young maiden whenever they exchange those small looks, longing stares drifting down each other's frame ever so slightly, a silent promise for later.

Today, like any other day full of meetings, the King finally excuses the Council and the lords all part to have a moment of peace to themselves. As usual, Y/n squeezes her brother's shoulder and departs for her chambers, a slight skip in her step and a smug smile as she nods to anyone she passes in the halls. Her chambers, a private part of the castle, just so happens to be on the way to the Hand's room, and if Lord Hightower were to make a short stop to visit the King's sister, who is to say?

Y/n throws open her doors and quickly shuts them behind her, barring the handles before turning back to face the insides of her room. Biting back her wide smile as she descends the few steps, her eyes scan the room, searching for something she was eager to find. She needn't search for long as Otto steps out from behind her folding screen.

"Princess."

Her smile broadens, taking several steps forward to close the distance between them. Otto receives her with open arms as Y/n glides easily into his embrace, reaching up and curling her hands into his hair as her lips slide clumsily with his. Lord Otto's hands blindly roam her body, leaning into her warmth with equal heat and desire. Eventually, their lips have to part for air and the world sits right with Y/n as she leans her forehead against his, catching her breath with her smile unwavering.

She pulls away just enough in order to look at her lover properly, "So Lord Corlys has a Crabfeeder problem."

He peers down at her through half-lidded eyes and a fond smile, "Hm. Listening in were you?"

"Only when the conversation is interesting," she teased back as she leans back in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, revelling the scratch of his beard against her lips. Y/n's pride only grows when she pulls away and Otto intends on her following her, desiring more.

However, being the tease she is, Y/n pulls herself out of Otto's arms and swiftly moves to her dining table, "You know what would make quick work of the Sea Snake's infestation?" She peers over her shoulder at the Hand as she walks away, her grin ever prominent, "A dragon. Or two. You could always convince the King to send me and Daemon out to the Stepstones and make a statement of our power. With both of the King's siblings dismantling the Triarchy, the Crabfeeder would quickly learn not to make a mockery of our ports."

Otto straightens his posture, following her to the table, "Is that your desire? To hastily enter a war that hasn't yet made a threat?"

"The Free Cities are testing our weak points, acting as pirate killers while we lie and watch them," Y/n takes fruit from her dinner tray and turns back to him, leaning against the lip of the table, "They may not pose as a threat now, but they have already dug their claws into the Stepstones. All they have to do now is leave an impressionable mark."

Lord Hightower reaches the table and sits in one of the chairs, his eyes rising to look up at the princess as his hand slowly crawls over the surface of the table in her direction, "I tire of talking about politics for one day, let alone entertaining the idea of sending you out on dragonback on your own."

"But I wouldn't be alone. I would have my dragon and Daemon and Caraxes."

His hand barely catches onto the sleeve of her dress, his eyes watching the fabric pull against his grip instead of looking up at her, "Perhaps the princess would want me to summon another council meeting immediately?"

She playfully sighs, giving in as she sets her fruit back on the table. She leans into Otto's space until she has fully climbed onto his lap, "You will do no such thing."

His hands expertly find the ends of her skirts, hiking them up to her waist as he reaches for another kiss, "As you wish, my love."

~~~~~~~~~

The hour grows late just as Otto is summoned to the King's chambers. Y/n spends her evening in her room, eating fruit and absently turning the pages of a book she's read a hundred times just as there was a knock on the door.

"Come," she called, slamming the book shut as she stood.

Rhaenyra pokes her little head in with a playful smile, "I have a surprise for you."

When she fully pushes the door open, Y/n gets a glance at another individual standing beside her, taller and with even longer silver hair. Y/n's eyes light up like fireworks as she runs to her doorway, "Brother!"

Daemon Targaryen steps into the room and swings his younger sister around as she jumps into his arms. She laughs into his shoulder, delighted by Rhaenyra's surprise. It has been an age since Daemon has been back at court and even Y/n could admit the meetings have been boring without her second eldest brother second-guessing every lord sitting at Viserys' table.

"Ao jurnegon sȳrī, mandia," Daemon greets her, a small smirk gracing his thin lips.

[You look well, sister.]

"Nyke could ivestragon keskydoso syt someone qilōni prefers se company hen līvi se lowly vali toliot zȳhon own lentor." She teased back.

[I could say the same for someone who prefers the company of whores and lowly men over his own family.]

Daemon runs his hands down her shoulders, shaking his head, "I am Commander of the City Watch. And the scum of the streets requires my attention."

Y/n rolls her eyes, "Are you here for the tournament?"

"Of course, he is. Why else would he be here?" Rhaenyra says from the doorway, arms crossed and leaning into the wood.

"Well, I would hope he had come to his senses and wished to join his brother's council again," Y/n huffed a small laugh while turning away and fetching a wine pitcher and a goblet, "Or perhaps come to support his cousin as she goes through a difficult pregnancy."

"Viserys has you in those infuriating meetings and Aemma has you for support," Daemon huffs back, accepting the wine goblet after Y/n had poured wine into it, "My talents are suited elsewhere, dear sister. Why run the court myself when I know you are fully capable?"

"Because I'm not a part of the court," Y/n loops her arm through Daemon's and leads him to the group of furniture centered in her room, gesturing Rhaenyra to join them, "I'm still a cupbearer."

Daemon's nose scrunches up as he's seated, "Do you mean to tell me that Viserys has not yet given you a seat at the table? What cunt made him decide against it? Was it Otto Hightower?"

Despite wanting to defend Otto, Y/n wisely chooses not to and only shrugs in response, "I don't see any reason why anyone would advise against it, dear brother."

"I'm still a cupbearer as well," Rhaenyra pitched in as she sat down, both her aunt and uncle turning their heads toward her.

"That is different, Rhaenyra. You are still young."

"If you were the King's cupbearer for as long as Y/n has, you would deserve a place at that table," Daemon tells his niece, all the while pointing at his sister with his cup with a sneer of disgust, "Now, I would bet my life that the one responsible for this treachery is none other than that sniveling, slithering, good-for-nothing cunt of the Hand of the King!"

"Treachery?" Y/n openly laughs, standing back up to fetch another tray of food from her dining table, "It hardly counts as a crime, Daemon. Even if Lord Otto is behind the King's lack of promoting me, which I highly doubt, there's no harm in it."

"'Harm,'" Daemon scoffs, shaking his head slightly as Y/n rejoins him and Rhaenyra, "Otto Hightower's ambition is only for himself, and not for the good of the Crown. If he truly had a love for this family and a love for Viserys' rule, he'd advise you to have a seat in the King's Council. The dragon has three heads and Viserys has two siblings. We would be stronger if we all were able to advise him."

The passionate words struck Y/n, eyes wide as she stares at her brother. Daemon gulps back the rest of his wine and the room lingers with silence. When he looks back at Y/n, she quickly flashes a quick smile to him and to Rhaenyra to reassure them both, despite the doubts lingering in the back of her mind.

~~~~~~~~~

Once Daemon is sent away, his words eventually go with him and Y/n forgets her doubts. After Aemma was lost to childbirth, along with her baby boy, a grieving Viserys exiles his brother to Dragonstone and names Rhaenyra as his true heir. For a moment, a brief moment, Y/n wondered why she wasn't a competitor for the throne, but quickly squashed that thought before it could fester. Between losing their cousin and missing their brother, Viserys and Y/n stick close to one another, sharing their grief.

During this time, Y/n and Otto have become more serious with each other, becoming a bit too bold even in public. Their touches last longer, their stares lingering far past appropriate, and it's been getting harder to sneak around. This spurs on the topic Y/n has been waiting to ask her lover.

"You could ask him to marry us, you know. He won't deny it."

Otto slowly sets down his quill, his sigh briefly disturbing the candles around his desk. Looking up, he meets her gaze as she's draped over his chair, reaching for her hand, "What's best for us is not necessarily best for him. Your brother is grieving the loss of his wife and son. I would not ask him for your hand in marriage at a time when he needs you the most,"

He kisses the palm of her hand, closing his eyes and lingering in her warmth. Y/n is satisfied with this answer, running her free hand over his hair before planting a small kiss on his temple. She stands up straight and looks to the door of his office before back down at her lover, "If someone were to see me walk out of here, tell them I was merely consulting with you on how to best comfort our king."

He nods in agreement and watches her go.

Y/n continues to bring up the topic of marriage, and each time, something new is in the way of Otto asking the King. First, Viserys announces his engagement to Lady Alicent Hightower, which came as a surprise to everyone present at the announcements, except for Otto. The grand wedding came around as well as Alicent's first pregnancy, then her second, third, and fourth. Three years have passed, and by the time Y/n was confident her lover was about to ask her brother to wed them, Daemon arrived back from the Stepstones. Y/n quickly forgot her proposal to Otto in exchange for reuniting with her other brother again.

But by the time the dust settled, it was too late. Once Y/n awoke and broke her fast the next morning, Daemon had already been sent away again and with this, she heard the news of Viserys dismissing Otto as his Hand. Heartbroken and confused, the princess made her way to Otto's chambers, demanding an answer.

"Why is he doing this? What happened last night to make my brother send Daemon away and dismiss you? Why does everyone somehow know except me?" She desperately asks in a single breath while regrettably helping her lover pack his things.

Otto sets his riding gloves down and heaves a large sigh before turning to her, "I cannot say."

"You can't or you won't?" When he could not answer her demand, she sucks in a sharp breath of air, "And what are we to do?"

"We?"

"Yes, 'we', unless I have been bedding another Otto Hightower for the past four years." Y/n snarled.

"Sarcasm is beneath you, my dear."

"And keeping secrets from me is unbecoming," she hits his chest, lightly, but gets her point across if his hurt expression had anything to say about it. Torn to shreds, Y/n's next sigh comes out trembling, regret welling in her eyes until her hands reach up and caress the spot in his chest where she had hit him. Defeated, her voice reverts to a whisper, "Take me with you. I will forgive everything, here and now, if you take me away from here."

"Your brother has just dismissed me. I doubt he will approve of me taking you away to Oldtown to be my lady wife," Otto's strong, withered hands gather hers and places them over his heart, "You're the princess. Your place is here."

A soft sob escapes her, disbelief in her teary eyes as she looked up at him, "But not with you?"

"Oh, I wish it so, Y/n, I swear it," he whispered, gathering her up in his arms and kissing the top of her head, rocking the two of them into a brief moment of calmness, "Perhaps this all happened for a reason. The gods might wish us to marry but not at this time. Our time will come. Just wait for me at the end of this road."

He feels her head buried in his chest as she turns it side to side, "I can't deny my brother's wishes if he decides to marry me off to someone else. I've already delayed him this long."

"Try. I know you can persuade him."

"If you believe that, then let me persuade him to keep you."

"I promise I will return. I know I will," he leans back and takes her face in both of his hands, forcing her to look him in the eye, "Take care of Alicent. Tend to her every need."

They pack the rest of his things in silence, not even touching each other until the next morning. Y/n woke to a frenzied knock on her door and rushes to answer. Otto is standing there and she barely has time to register his riding clothes before he's swept her up in a long, passionate kiss.

"Wait for me." He whispered against her lips.

In a flurry of his cloak, he retreats, not even waiting for Y/n to respond. He's left the Red Keep before she could even dress for the day, taking Alicent's youngest son, Daeron, with him to be fostered in Oldtown.

~~~~~~~~~

Ten years. Ten. Long. Years.

Princess Y/n Targaryen feels herself growing old as both Rhaenyra and Alicent grow up. She does her best to befriend her lover's daughter, but Alicent grew out of her shell shortly after Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor Velaryon. When she grew into a queen, Alicent suddenly had no need for friends outside of her sworn shield, Ser Criston Cole, and her confidant, Lord Larys Strong.

From her marriage to Laenor, Rhaenyra birthed three sons, Jacerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. Y/n was there for each of her niece's labors, trying to be the mother figure Rhaenyra deserved to have at her side in these stepstones of life. Y/n also tried her best to be with Alicent and her children. She gave advice when she could and even helped raise her niece and nephews if Alicent appeared stressed. The Queen thanks Y/n with feigned interest, only entertaining the older woman in her presence. Otherwise, she had no interest in being her sister-in-law's friend.

Daemon had run off and married Laena Velaryon in this long decade as well, having twin daughters with a third on the way. They travel through Essos and hardly ever journey back to Westeros. Viserys has done nothing but get worse in health, slowly decaying from the inside out. In many ways, both of Y/n's brothers were far from her reach, and her lover farther still.

Never in her life has Y/n felt so alone until this very moment. Her brothers are more distant than ever, the man she loved thousands of leagues away from her. Her niece is married with children and everyone else has followed her lead. Everyone appears to have moved on with their lives. All except Y/n, who remained frozen in time, never moving forward.

Viserys eventually notices his forlorn sister and asks her when she intends to marry. Cold and defeated, she answers with little emotion, "I'm old and barren. I would not make a good wife to anyone because I am no longer of age to have children."

"Come now," he tried to cheer her up, alone in the throne room. He smiles hopefully, "There's no need for such words of doubt. Plenty of suitors have come and gone from here and you never once spoke to me with interest to any of them. Surely, someone must have crossed your mind?"

It was like watching a barrel of wildfire ignite at the drop of a match. Y/n's whole body stiffens, her emotionless face suddenly coming to life from stone to fire. She glared up at her King brother, venom dripping in every word she spoke, "If you wish to be rid of me, brother, just say the words."

Viserys retracts, horrified that she would even make such an accusation, "Now, Y/n--"

"You pushed Daemon away and now you are pushing me away!" She roared, voice echoing off the walls of the vast room, "Slowly, day by day, you have pushed your siblings away until they had no choice but to leave. Not once did you ask Daemon to be your hand, now look where he is! And what of me? I had been your cupbearer long before Rhaenyra was born and not once did you ever ask me to join your council! Now, all we have left is our resentment for each other!"

"You know why I couldn't name Daemon my Hand," Viserys retorts, exhaustion putting pressure behind his eyes. He covers his face with one hand as the start of a headache ignites, "And Otto Hightower was a loyal servant to the Crown before greed brought his motives elsewhere--"

With his face covered, he completely misses the way Y/n shrivels in on herself, folding her arms close to her body. He speaks up once more, "But go on. Clearly, you've had something on your mind for a while. Speak freely, baby sister, and be free of it."

Silence echoes through the chamber louder than her yells could, and the two bask in it until Y/n takes a deep breath and finds her courage to speak, "You gave Daemon the opportunity to be your heir, and after you disinherited him, you could have had me take his place. But you didn't. You just brushed past my existence and moved onto Rhaenyra."

The words hurt Viserys like a stab through the heart. The King lean forwards in his chair of swords, "Y/n--"

"I am your sister, Viserys!" She cries in anger, her eyes and nose pink with emotion as she peered up at him, "Your blood! I have equal relations to you as Daemon does, and yet no equal titles or lands of my own. You name your daughter, a woman, as Heir to the Iron Throne but have not once given your own sister anything she could have possibly desired!"

"And pray tell would that be?!" Viserys roars as he shakes his walking cane, tired of the accusations and the squabble between him and his sister, "Tell me! Your King demands it!"

"The man I loved!"

The words ring in his ears along with his gasps of air as he tries to catch his breath. They stare at one another, panting and drained of all their emotions, like most pent-up siblings. Y/n licks her bottom lip, blinking rapidly while her eyes cast to the stairs leading up to the throne, ashamed. Viserys leans back on his throne, exhausted, watching the way his sister battles with her thoughts before she decides to Hell with them.

"Otto Hightower," His eyes widen when she spoke that name, but allowed her to further explain, "I loved him then, I love him now. I thought you knew. I thought you knew and refused to act on it. I thought you knew my love for him and you dismissed him anyway. You sent my love away... and for ten years, I have been stewing in my resentment of you, thinking how cruel my big brother can be."

"Y/n..." Viserys whispered, guilt boiling in his stomach as he watched his little sister shrink in on herself, "I am so, so sorry. For all of it. If I could take it all back--"

"It's far too late for that now," Y/n rapidly wipes the tears away, straightening her posture and taking deep breaths. Viserys could visibly see the stone wall she puts up as she now faced him as a dragon princess, "Fifteen years too late for you to grant me lands and titles, and ten years too late to marry me off. I'm sure by now Rhaenyra has informed you that she will be leaving for Dragonstone with her family. I intend on joining her."

She turns and walks out of the throne room, and Viserys no longer had the strength to stop her.

~~~~~~~~~

Living on Dragonstone with Laenor, Rhaenyra, and their children was peaceful, apart from the boys running around and having adventures of their own. Jace and Luke were wonderful, and they loved their Great-Aunt Y/n. Having a new baby around was wonderful, too. Whenever Rhaenyra needed a break, Y/n was happy to take over. Rhaenyra was thankful to have her aunt with her family, living in their ancestral home together, away from the viper den of King's Landing.

They receive two letters not long after moving into Dragonstone. The first was from King's Landing, reporting the deaths of Lord Lyonel Strong and his son, Ser Harwin, and the second letter was from Driftmark, detailing the funeral for Laena Velaryon. Leaving Joffrey behind with a wet nurse, the rest of the family head to Driftmark to pay their respects. Upon arrival, Corlys and Princess Rhaenys were waiting to greet them, gathering their son up in their arms as they mourned their loss. Baela and Rhaena were there as well, but Daemon was nowhere to be found, much to Y/n's disappointment.

"Take me to your father," she demanded gently of her nieces after she held and kissed both of them. The twins take both of her hands and led her away from the growing crowds of funeral attendants. They brought her to a quiet room within the keep, and then she quietly sent them away to be with the rest of their family, "I promise I'll have him ready for the burial."

Heading inside, the room was completely dark other than the natural light coming through the window. She found Daemon easily enough, slouched in the corner of the room, and gathered him in her arms. He wasn't responsive other than to bury his face away from the world in his sister's shoulder, silent as the grave. Y/n was hoping for a better reunion than this after ten years of missing her brother, but he had just lost a wife and child. She couldn't afford to be selfish when Daemon was grieving.

Y/n repeatedly kissed the top of Daemon's head, squeezing him as tight as she could as would a mother to her child. Y/n doesn't remember her own mother very well, but she could imagine her holding Little Daemon like this whenever he was upset.

"I'm here... I'm here."

Daemon Targaryen does not cry in front of anyone, but for his little sister, he makes an exception.

After some time, Daemon is willing to show his face long enough for the ceremony. Y/n leads him outside where everyone had gathered around. While she was attending to her brother, the royal family arrived and was now waiting for them before saying their last goodbyes.

Y/n nearly tripped over her own feet when she saw Otto Hightower among the crowd, proudly wearing the sigil of the Hand once again. She nearly forgot how to breathe when she recognized his face, the air completely stolen from her lungs, heartbeat pounding in her ears. If she caught his eye, she couldn't tell with the crowd moving towards the cliffside where they would throw Laena's remains into the sea. For now, she couldn't approach him. Daemon and his daughters needed her first and foremost.

Throughout the eulogy Vemond Velaryon gives, Y/n keeps her gaze lowered and her hand on Daemon's arm. Halfway through sending Laena's coffin into the sea, Daemon whispers into her ear, "Our beloved Hand of the King can't keep his eyes off you."

Y/n paused, looking up at Daemon before following his gaze. She pulls her hair out of the way when the wind takes hold but sure enough, Otto stood far from the grieving family, dutifully keeping his hands folded in front of him. His eyes, however, were cast onto Y/n, only occasionally looking away out of respect for the dead when Laena has finally been put to rest. When he noticed you staring back, Otto's eyes lingered longer, as if the past ten years never happened and you were back in the council room, sharing glances and quick touches.

Y/n looks away and lowers her head again out of respect for Laena, dismissing Daemon's comment, "He's looking at you, brother."

All the guests quietly conversed with one another after the eulogy, any exchange becoming awkward or full of meager stares. The family of the deceased was approached numerous times and given plenty of condolences, but for the most part, Y/n either stuck to Daemon or Rhaenyra, not wishing to speak among the royal family as her estranged relationship with Viserys was still a sore subject.

It's not like she could mix with the crowd anyway. Ever since Daemon noticed Lord Otto staring, he had yet to leave Y/n's side, and she has elected to ignore it. But, as always, Daemon gets bored easily. He leaves the gathering and before long, so does Rhaenyra, but only Y/n appeared to have noticed, that is until Caraxes and Syrax flew overhead, alerting everyone of the prince and princess' departure.

Y/n was staring up at the evening sky, fondly watching the dragons fly away together. She didn't notice Otto approaching her until his hand gently touches her elbow, jolts of lightning running up her arm as she turns to face him.

The two of them found themselves walking alongside the beach together, long after the sun had disappeared over the horizon. The waves crashed and the wind blew, filling in the silence between the pair until the Hand spoke, "Alicent spoke highly of you. She said you tended to her and her children in her time of need," he waits for a response but didn't get one, so he continued to fill the void with words, "I owe you my gratitude for stepping in when her mother couldn't."

She winced, pained by the reminder of his first wife. Y/n keeps her voice even and stern, looking out onto the waters instead of looking at him, "I wasn't a mother to her. I was merely serving my Queen as I saw fit. When did you come back?"

"I returned to King's Landing by His Grace's command after the death of Lord Lyonel, may he rest in peace," Otto put his hands behind his back as he walked, watching his shoes sink into the sand, "I was beside myself when I arrived only to realize that you weren't there to receive me."

"I left shortly before you were summoned. My brother and I had a fight about-- well, about plenty of things, I suppose. I left for Dragonstone to take some time away."

"If you had waited--"

"I waited long enough," she snapped suddenly, stopping in her tracks and forcing him to do the same by her glare alone, "Ten years may have been a blink of an eye for you, but not for me."

"What makes you so sure? How do you know how I felt all these years?"

"I can only guess. It's not like you wrote letters to tell me otherwise." She snarled.

Otto lowered his gaze to the sand once again, ashamed, "I couldn't. It would have been a painful reminder that I could not have you."

Y/n huffed, annoyed by him and herself for acting like fools. She stared out over the water again before asking the question that had been troubling her all these years, "Why did you keep refusing to marry me? Why not ask my brother and be done with it?"

Lord Hightower sighed, his eyes wandering as he tried wording his next excuse the best way possible, "Your brother... back then, when he looked at you, he only ever saw a child."

The scowl on her face showed how unimpressed she was by his words, "I am only three years younger than Daemon."

"You were young when you and I started having relations. Viserys was at the height of his power and Daemon was known for killing a man for almost any reason," he smiled gently, "I would not have survived long enough to marry you had I tried asking your brother for your hand."

She shook her head in disbelief, running her hand over her hair when the wind picked it up and threw it back in her face. Otto watches the movement with calculation, wondering how long would it take him to run his fingers through those soft silver locks and sniff out every pin and braid. Y/n peers back and recognized that look, smiling a little to herself as she remembered how impressionable she is to him. Y/n makes a step forward, her feet sinking into the sand as she stood in front of him. She watches her fingers trace shapes in his cloak, the offending fabric keeping her from his torso and the beat of his heart. She peers up at him then, through her long lashes her violet eyes meet his and the mystery of his eye color wandered into her head. Were they blue in a certain light? Or were they green like his house colors, green like the flames of the great lighthouse that call House Hightower's banners to war? Y/n wonders if this is a mystery she can soon find out herself, purposely letting her eyes wander down to his lips. She internally cheered in triumph when the motion drove Otto to gasp out a tiny breath, "And how about now? Would you ask for my hand now?"

"Would you still have me?"

One of her hands reach for his mouth, fingers lightly tapping on his bottom lip, "If it weren't for your idiocy, I'd have you already."

A deep, gentle chuckle sounds deep in his chest, wrinkles ever prominent in the corner of his eyes when he smiled to himself. His lips briefly kiss her fingertips as he whispered, "Well, then. You'll be happy to learn that I already arranged everything. King Viserys summoned me and admitted that by doing so, he hoped to make you happy. I asked and he granted us permission to be married the moment we arrive back in King's Landing."

Y/n's hands pause their movement, her half-lidded eyes now widening in surprise, searching his face for an answer in disbelief, "Really?"

"Yes. He said he was done disappointing his sister."

She exhales excitedly, a sparkling smile gracing her beautifully aging face. Otto lovingly watched as small wrinkles, trying to make themselves known, show in the corners of her eyes as well. He happily counted each one before they disappeared from his sight when Y/n leaned up to kiss him.

It's warm and almost unbearably charged. Both lose their breaths quickly as their kisses drag out and become frenzied. Otto's hands make their way through her cloak, gripping tightly onto wherever flesh may be through her dress. Y/n's hands find purchase in his hair, gripping tightly as her leg rubs subconsciously against his crotch.

Otto breaks from the kiss, clawing for breath while trying to voice reason, "Y/n..."

"I told you. I waited long enough," she whispered into his lips, pulling him close again, "What difference does it make?"

They find themselves taking refuge inside the remains of a ship sticking out of the sand like a large dragon's ribcage. The little cover shields them from the wind and muffles the sound of the crashing waves. Y/n could see stars peeking through the shipwreck, shining down on her as she lay on her back, Otto's cloak the only thing between her and the sand. She rushes to hike up her skirts and lower her stockings as the Hand unfastens his belt and pulls the strings of his trousers. She started to see other stars behind her vision as her fingers run through her folds and rub circles over her clit, her moans drowned by the crashing waves and violent winds outside their sanctuary. Otto breathlessly watches her in awe. A goddess in every way, a dragon perfectly fitted into the body of a woman. She catches his predatory gaze and feels the warmth tighten deep in her belly from the intensity of his eyes on her, witnessing her sin and unable to control himself from waiting any longer.

Lord Hightower leans over her body, loosening her cloak and pulling her dress down to expose her shoulder, kissing her bare collarbone as he pants into her skin, "I miss moments like this more than anything."

As did she, if the rising pitch of her moans had anything to show for it. The warmth in her belly ignites like a fire and her patience grows thin. Forcing her own fingers away, she leans up and runs her lips over Otto's then trails down to his neck and relishes the scratch of his beard against her fair skin. Feeling her wetness run down and smear on his already ruined cloak excites her to the point she felt like she could fly without a dragon. She gasps out a demand, "Lie down, my love."

He does so, and to be honest, his obedience excites her all the more. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing and making up for the lost years, but to have him bend to her will made her feel like the Queen of Dragons herself. Like Vhagar, striking terror wherever she flew.

With Otto on his back, Y/n swings her leg over his waist until she was hovering over him, her knees sinking into the sand on either side of his hips. Her skirt pools around them at the motion, covering Y/n's new mount from sight. Otto blindly ventures under her skirts, experienced hands gripping around the apex of her perfect thighs. One of the princess' hands grips tightly onto the beard hair on his chin, forcing him to look up at her, his intense gaze still filling her with delight, hot magma still pooling in her belly. Her other hand dives underneath her skirts, expertly finding his. She guides his fingers further up her thigh and to her core. With determination, she watched his reaction as she made him feel his hardened length enter her with his own hand.

Her slick and warmth welcoming him inside her body drive the both of them to groan involuntarily, drawing out provocative sounds as she fully sinks down onto him. Otto unconsciously closed his eyes, feeling every inch of her both inside and outside. She's so warm and tight, rhythmically gripping onto his length. Her thighs rub either side of his hips, and he notes the insides of them are slightly rough. When she experimentally rolled her hips, a moan and a jolt of realization brought him to the conclusion that she learned how to do this by riding dragons.

She refused to bounce. Instead, she rolled her hips and drew his length in and out of her, back and forth and then in circles, like she was leaning her weight on the back of a dragon, flying through the skies. Her hand, still grasping his underneath her skirts, moves his fingers to rub against her clit, the rough pads of his fingertips sending a jolt up her spine and driving a cry out from her lungs. Otto takes the hint and takes over, tracing circles over her bud as she leaned her head back to moan up at the sky. With his hand now where she wants him, Y/n takes her hands and leans back to hold onto his legs, using this added momentum to quicken her pace, huffing hot air down the cleavage of her dress as she screwed her eyes shut in heated bliss.

"Take me fully this time, my love," she whimpered hastily, "All the way, without hesitation. I'll be yours by law soon. What does it matter if we do or don't wait before our marriage bed?"

Her words drive his fingers to start furiously rubbing against her clit, painfully but in a good way as her insides catch fire. Otto is panting uncontrollably, desperate to catch his breath as he's ridden by his young love, peaking ever so near by her words and her fluttering cunt. Y/n loses the rhythm of her hips as she desperately tries to get near her climax, jaw dropping and unable to swallow her unbridled screams of ecstasy. Her throat and lips are dry but all she could do is continuously moan and scream, feeling the tip of her betrothed's length begin to hit her cervix. Her grip on his legs tightens, sharp claws digging into flesh as her movements continuously hit that spot she's just dying to meet.

"Yes, yes, yes-!" Her coil cannot tighten any further and she's desperate for release. One of her hands dives back under her skirt and swats his hand away from her clit. She makes him grip onto the meat of her arse with both hands while she rubs her own clit in the motion she knows will make her see stars, now furiously bouncing her hips up and down his cock, "That's it, my love! Take me. Make me yours-! Oh, gods--"

Otto's hips suddenly rise to meet hers and now they're both howling at the moon, Y/n's walls fluttering all around his length as he spills deep into her, tremors running up and down her whole body as the dam overfills and spills over, rushing to the top of her head and down to the tip of her toes, forcing them to curl. The intensity of her climax is so large that she can no longer force noise from her mouth, her jaw hanging but nothing falling from her lips.

She forgets everything for a moment. How to breathe, how to speak, and how to even open her eyes. Otto's hips fall back down to earth and she soon follows, draping over his entire body in exhaustion. She rises and falls against his chest as he breathes, frantically at first before finally slowing down, despite his heartbeat still fluttering against her cheek. Finally, Y/n smiles in contentment and opens her eyes despite the uncomfortable feeling of Otto's seed leaking out of her and running down her thigh. She lifts her head to meet his and finally noticed that the Hand of the King appears to be asleep.

"My love?" She questions, slightly panicked as her hand cups his face.

Slowly, he comes back to reality as well, his eyes fluttering open and a restrained chuckle escaping his teeth, "I'm too old for this."

Y/n couldn't help but laugh a little, too, leaning down and rubbing her nose along the side of his neck, taking in his musky scent, "I'll never do that again if it helps."

"You'll do no such thing," he harumphs, making her laugh as his arms fully envelope her, "If one day my heart gives out from the way you ride me like a dragon, then so be it. Clearly, the gods have always meant to have me at your mercy, Princess."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: So I did struggle with trying to figure out hold much younger Y/n was going to be from Viserys and Daemon. I think Daemon is meant to be 22 years old during the first episode so I tried to base her age off of that. And yes I added Daeron Targaryen for no reason other than to be somewhat accurate with the lore.

Please support by leaving a like or something. If you have a request, please leave it in my inbox!

#otto hightower x reader #otto hightower imagine #otto hightower #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #imagine #king viserys targaryen #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower

[wallydarlingsnumber1]

posting my cringe old shit i wrote on wattpad. #1

OH GOD. help me. | SMUT | [ P A I R I N G ] ; Ayato Aishi x Reader [ WARNINGS ] ; P in V, Unprotected sex, AND BAD STUPID SMUT. last fucking warning! under the cut you promise to willingly suffer for your actions of this smut.

Prompt : Ayato (male Ayano Aishi) gets horny and starts making out with female!reader :)

I asked my bestie for a prompt so uh here we go 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

BURN!! ^^^(i might delete this chapter idfk) (maybe ill make a masc one >:v) Also this is my first smut so it might be bad 💀💔

Comment here what the adventure was like after the story 💙

(Also you guys are in ur house n shit Its also night Netflix And chill (Even though my bestie didn't say this but i thought to just add this 💀💔))

💔💔💔💔- Ayato's pov Oh my gosh. She fucking right there next to me. Im gonna blow up right now. She's so pretty. Her gorgeous E/C(eye color) colored eyes. The most beautiful H/L(Hair length) hair she has. She dressed up in her little favorite jammies. So cute and only for me.

I wanna fuck her.

I felt hard but ignored it, and grabbed one of the pillows and my legs with it to make sure she wouldn't see.

💙💙💙💙-Y/N's Pov

I felt Ayato's eyes lay on me, i felt tension growing.

I just continue on watching the movie, leaning onto Ayato. My hands move over to his hands and held it. He seemed suprised, but caressed my hands gently.

I kissed him on his cheeks. Smiling at him like a cute little doll.

A few minutes later during the movie

I felt his cold hands snake onto my thigh and rub it gently. I was getting butterflies. He used his free hand to reach for my chin and smiled at me. He kissed me softly. He whined a bit when i pulled away but we both smiled at each other. He pushed me to lay down on the sofa. "Y/N, please~," he said crawling over me. He covered my neck with gentle kisses. I shivered at how cold he was.

He scooted over closer and started to take off my pants and my undergarments.

Revealing my pussy. He took off his own and revealed his member, with some little precum on its tip. It was... Probably a bit big to say the least to fit it in. He inserted his long, cold, finger inside and started to pump it in and out.

"Does that feel good, My little sweetheart?~" said the man with lust-filled eyes. Admiring the scene of you being finger-fucked by him. And i mean, only, Him. "Ye-Yes~" you quietly moaned out. He stopped and inserted two fingers inside you this time and pumped it in and out slowly. You whined out; "P-please~ Ayato, put it in~" His fingers stopped again and smirked at you, his cock was throbbing anyway. He inserted in slowly.

"Tell me when it hurts or you when want to stop, okay?~ I dont want to hurt you THAT much~" he started moving in and out of you. He chuckled. Which, kind of made you a bit worried.

Only a minute passed and you were already moaning mess.

It hurt a little but you didn't care. "H-Haah!~ AYATO!~" You moaned out, "Thats fucking right, moan out my name. Let everyone know how much of a slut you are for me and me only, let everyone know you are mine~"

Now that? That was so fucking hot for you to handle.

He started to suck on your neck and leave hickeys and sped up. "You like it when i do this to you? Hm?" He said, he wasn't even close to being done with you.  You moaned, loving the feeling and sensations he had given you. You were close to your climax and so was he.

You came and he did too, of course he pulled out before doing so. "Oh my~..." He chuckled, You tried to sit up but you were pinned back down. "Now, now! We aren't completely done yet~" He rubbed your pussy, he chuckled and loved the thought for another round, the movie seemed to not be done yet, the time was 1:34 am, did you both care? Nope. You both continued.

For what felt like hours. And hours. You both had 3 rounds. The aftercare he gave you was nice though. He loved you so much. Your leg was very sore still though...

Guess you wont be able to walk tomorrow.

___

Oh my gosh what dafuq. WHY DID I DO THIS DURING MY WHOLE ENTIRE CLASS HELP

END OF THAT CRAPPY SHIT I COPY AND PASTED. I HATE IT. BUT YEAH.

anyways listen to bag of bones in album 'lush' by mitski bbyz baiiii xoxo

#originally posted on wattpad #help. #i hate my life #wattpad #ayato x reader #ayato aishi #ayato aishi x reader #ayano x reader #ayano aishi x reader #yandere #yandere sim #yan #dere #yan sim #yandere simulator #yandere simulator x reader #paul dano please marry me. #IM SERIOUS.

[smalls-words]

Healing Hands pt. 5

Summary: Wanda grows closer to you, but what does that mean for you?

Warnings: Sad Wanda basically going through rushed therapy, descriptions of pain. I DON’T WANNA SPOIL ANYTHING SO JUST READ CAREFULLY PLS

A/N: This is a bit shorter but I wanted to have the climax at the end >:)

pt. i, pt. ii, pt. iii, pt. iv, pt. v, pt. vi

*not my gif*

Wanda knew it when she woke - last night was the best she had slept since Pietro died. Wrapped in your arms, your warmth, your comfort; it was what she really needed. 

She smirked to herself when she saw you still laying in her bed, your hair tousled by your nightly movements. Her eyes flickered over your features, admiring how peaceful you looked once more. Your cheeks were coloured gently with the blood in the veins below, eyes still underneath your eyelids whilst your brows had no crease in them whatsoever.

She gently conjured her magic and it moved a few strands of hair away as if it were her own fingers, the sensation doubling back on her. She pushed them out of your face and framed you wonderfully, allowing her to keep observing you.

“Doamne, ești frumoasă. (God, you’re beautiful.)” She muttered softly.

You stirred slightly, which made her freeze, but you were just adjusting your head further into your pillow. She was glad to not have been caught even just staring at you, and she made her way to the front porch. She dressed herself in a way she had not done for a long time - a black shirt, covered by a grey cardigan whilst sweats still covered her bottom half. Rings adorned her fingers and she smiled at the one she remembered that Pietro had stolen for a girl, but when she turned him down, he gave them to Wanda as a birthday gift.

Now that the days were getting colder and the nights longer, little tufts of frost dotting the grass in the early morning. A cold wind, although gentle, breezed over Wanda and she remembered how the Sokovian winters would make her feel alive.

Wanda thrived in the winter. Sokovian blooded, not to mention magical. She could simply form a thin shield over her body and she would think she was sitting by a warm fire. 

She closed the door to barr the breeze before making breakfast, confused when the smell wouldn’t lift you out of bed. She made her way back to her room and noticed you were looking at a Healeon notebook.

“I’m not due for a healing until the end of the week, so if that’s a study guide…” She commented, watching you jolt up and see her.

“Just… going over a few things.” You muttered, watching her walk over to you out of the corner of your eye.

“Come on, you can look at them whilst you have breakfast.”

You looked up at Wanda as she left the room, tucking your notebook into its pocket dimension with the grin of a child upon your lips, scurrying after her to see a set of french toast on a plate for you. 

But your heart sank when you saw the cold, overcast day outside.

Wanda sighed, noticing your detached posture. “It’s just seasons, Y/N. Summer will come soon enough.” 

“It’s not just that.” You sighed too, putting your fork and knife on the plate gently.

Wanda’s eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at her through your brows, worry curving along hers. “Healers thrive in the warmer seasons. Summer, Spring - those are our months because the world has begun anew with life in plants and animals. The world’s energy is renewed and we can tap into it.”

The confused look on Wanda’s face was not one you wanted to see. “So… Autumn and Winter are… bad for healers?”

You nodded. “Not so much in humans and plants, but particularly in animals, the need to find food to hibernate or stock up is high. Thus, death plagues the Northern Hemisphere for a few weeks before the lower amount of energy on the earth… it can hurt me, Wanda.” 

She looked down at her meal, no longer having an appetite. “What would you normally do at Kamar-Taj? Surely the fact that the Southern Hemisphere is in summer would mean that you had balanced energy?”

You shook your head. “My energy is focused on the Northern Hemisphere. If a Master Healer controlled the entire planet’s energy, it could very well become disastrous.”

Wanda’s fingers began to tap on the table, frustration across her features that you could plainly see. “Wanda, I know I said I’d heal you as quickly as I could, but with the amount of pain we still have to go through and my strength waning-”

“Stop. Just… stop.” Wanda interrupted you.

She moved around the table and sat next to you, taking your hand in her marked one gently. She could already see the damage the winter months were doing to you - it was taking longer for you to heal, you slept longer, you had energy for a less amount of time. It was all building up, and she could see it in your tear-pricked eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never should have made a promise I couldn’t keep. I will still heal you, it will just take a little bit longer for me to recover each time.” You sniffled, noticing how Wanda didn’t reply.

How could she when there was a huge lump in her throat at the simple thought of losing you?

“Wanda? Wanda, please say something.” You muttered.

She leaned forward ever so slowly, her eyes drifting up from your torso to your eyes before she closed hers and rested her forehead against yours. She took a deep breath, the exhaled air tickling your nose, before you felt something clench around your chest.

“Deep breaths, frumoasă.” She whispered.

She was controlling your breathing. If you told yourself two months ago that the Scarlet Witch would be controlling your breathing, you would have run to another dimension.

But here, now, it was the most helpful thing she could do.

Your breath tickled her lips and she had half a thought to kiss you just to ease the sensation. Instead, she licked her lips, a desire building in her to feel more of it; for if she could not have your lips, she would imagine them with what you gave her.

“Are you alright now?” She asked quietly as her magic dissipated.

You nodded weakly, unsure of why Wanda was helping you. You were the Master Healer - your whole life is dedicated to understanding and healing pain.

So what was this new one that ached your body? And why did it stem from your chest?

——————————🜃🜂🜁🜄 —————————

A few days passed from when you told Wanda the news of your declining health. She locked the windows and doors, sealing them airtight to make sure you could not be cold from an outdoor influence, and she kept the heater on at night.

You would sit by it every night before bed, absorbing as much of the heat as possible so your body could work properly. A being of energy, capable of thousands of millions of possibilities, but you were stuck with a fire as your main source.

Wanda would come and sit next to you, offering you tea and small meals since your appetite had lessened. Now, when she called you for breakfast, it was her lunchtime. She made sure you ate, drank too, but the time had come according to you.

You sat down by the fire, your back to the burning flame, whilst Wanda sat in front of you. She already had her hand in yours - well, actually it was your hand in hers since she was so concerned - and you closed your eyes. 

“Last was Brotherly, this time will be Familial. Describe your family for me, Wanda.”

“Well, it was the Avengers.” She smiled at the fond memories that instantly rose.

“Good, good. That’s a very strong memory.” You commented.

“There was always some sort of admin to do, but Tony always tried to make himself available. Steve was great to ask for advice. After Pietro, though… Natasha helped me. She told me about her sister, Yelena, and how she thought she was dead. She didn’t know what I’d been through, because they weren’t twins, but she understood what losing a sibling felt like.” 

Wanda watched as darkness began to creep at your fingertips, fear doing the same to her mind. Your brows furrowed. “Wanda, focus. I can only do so much.”

“Right, sorry. Um… Clint was always wonderful. He took me under his wing and always helped me train against Natasha. He would take me on small holidays to his family house, and his children are lovely.” Wanda smiled as another memory of them came up, the three siblings holding a united front against their parents at times.

“Pietro actually saved Clint’s life, so he kindly put his third child’s middle name, Nate, as Pietro. Nathaniel Pietro Barton.” She remembered the little tyke, chuckling softly.

“Wanda, I’m not finding pain here.” You smirked gently.

“Sorry.” She apologised again. 

“Do not fret.”

She took a deep breath before her heart began to ache. “I lost them when I died. Well, I got snapped away and then returned five years later, according to Clint. He was grieving Natasha’s death, since she had sacrificed herself for the Soul Stone. All of them grieved… but they all had someone to turn to.”

Her voice grew quiet and your eyes glowed, your magic attacking the pain in her heart you had found. “Keep going.” You spoke softly.

“Well, Thor had New Asgard and his Guardian friends. Steve went back in time to live a life with Peggy. Bruce turned himself back into human with an inhibitor, Clint went back home to his family. I… didn’t have that luxury.” She shrugged, looking down at her hands.

“I didn’t have Natasha. I didn’t have Vision. I didn’t have anyone who cared.” She hissed. 

Wanda watched as you gently let go of her hand, placing it in her lap whilst you rose to stand. Wanda stood with you, seeing your hand turn black.

“How far will it go?” She asked quietly, her heart begging her mind to take your hand and soothe any pain it held.

“I don’t know. There was a lot I had to sift through to get to that pain. Your instincts are trying to protect your heart by creating walls, but then I have to break them down to get to the pain.” You explained.

Wanda nodded, hugging you. “I’m sorry if that was a bad session.”

You hugged her back. “It’s alright. We’ll do better next time, okay?”

She nodded again before pulling back from you, helping you adjust your long sleeves. She lay you on the couch closest to the fire and began to prepare a stew for dinner, leaving you to fall asleep quietly.

——————————🜃🜂🜁🜄 —————————

Next time came quicker than you expected. 

Both you and Wanda were surprised to see the elbow-length mark of poisonous pain disappear within two nights, but without a marker of some sort in your notebooks, notepads, or even your memory, you continued like the previous time.

However, your hand had taken hers, gently massaging the back of her hand. “I know this part is going to hurt a lot more. Are you sure you are up to it?”

She nodded silently, squeezing your hand three times as well. You slowly closed your eyes and took a deep breath before the healer mark began to glow brightly. “Tell me about Vision.”

She chuckled softly immediately, a tone of love and pain mixed together. “He was… odd. Like you, but completely different at the same time. Vision was a synthezoid with an Infinity Stone in his head, the Mind Stone. I found it funny at times because it’s what gave me and Pietro powers.”

You smiled, your eyes now open and glowing, flickering in time with your heartbeat. “What was Vision like?” 

“He was such a romantic. He would try and cook me food, but it would always taste bad since he didn’t have taste buds.” She snickered, watching you laugh too.

She now knew why she loved hearing that sound.

“And because of the Mind Stone, I could always feel him - similarly to how you feel energy around you. He was always there, in the back of my mind, and all I had to do was call his name. He didn’t even have to come to the door, because he could and would always phase through the wall.”

You smirked widely at that. “Vision sounds like a cool dude.”

“He was. But then…” Wanda swallowed the lump in her throat, watching her healer mark grow brighter.

“Then Thanos came. He wanted Vision’s stone, but we all knew that if he got to the stone before we could take it out of Vision, he would die. We asked some friends for help, some powerful friends…” 

“Ah, yes. The Wakandans. A beautiful country, I might add.” You commented.

“They were lovely. The princess tried to help us remove Vision’s stone, but we were too late. Thanos beat... everyone. I had to fight him off with all of the other five Infinity Stones whilst trying to destroy the Mind Stone simultaneously.”

Your eyes widened before closing, trying to focus. 

“I finally destroyed it and there was a huge blast that came out of it. I… I killed the only person who loved me more than just as family.” She sniffled, tears beginning to pour.

“And then- And then it wasn’t even worth it, because Thanos wound back time and ripped it out of his head. I watched my first love die twice.”

Wanda’s mind began to run a new path, your magic forced to follow. “Wanda, I-I can’t do that much-”

“And then, these SWORD people had the audacity to take his body from me, just because he was made of billions of dollars of vibranium. They wanted to rip him apart and sell him, like he was a car.”

“Wanda, please, stop this-”

Fury built within her heart, pain shooting through your arm. You could only compare the pain to your transformation, but even then, it felt worse. The rest of your body was intact, but it was like your arm was going through the pain of your entire body.

“I wanted him back. I drove to where he planned to build our new house, I found that stupid plot of land…” She was sobbing now, her body shaking.

“I made him come back. And finally, finally, I was happy. But I was hurting others, giving them my pain so I wouldn’t feel it. I lost my boys, I lost Vision again. Nothing I ever get is mine for long - death must have a vendetta against me or something.”

When Wanda’s ramble came to an end, she didn’t even notice that you had shuffled away from her. You were sobbing, in unimaginable pain, and Wanda rushed to your side.

“Y/N, what’s happening?!”

“Get… Get my Slingy!” You howled, watching her place it in your hand before you tried to form a portal. 

Nothing. 

“Ugh!” You threw it down, cracking it in half, before another bout of pain spread across you.

“Where were you trying to get to?” Wanda asked firmly.

“Kam… Kamar…” You stammered, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you passed out.

“No no no! No, stay awake! Y/N!” Wanda fretted, closing her eyes as she summoned a bout of power within her.

When she opened her eyes, sorcerers had her surrounded with some familiar orange runes around their hands, but there were only two sorcerers she cared about. She called for them, in their minds, and two portals brought them to her.

“Y/N.” Wong muttered gravely at your unconscious form.

“Sh-She was trying to heal me again a-a-and it got too much for her I think?” Wanda let Wong take you, begrudgingly, and she followed through the portal.

“What was she trying to heal?” Stephen asked as he helped lie you down on a table, summoning his medical kit and placing a stethoscope on your chest.

“My, uh… My pain with Vision.” She remembered.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” He muttered, ripping off the medical device.

“She’s going into overdrive. She’s taken too much pain.” 

“But she was fine this morning!” Wanda fretted, almost biting her nails as she watched the sorcerers work around you. 

“Where’s the mark?” Wong asked her and she lifted up your sleeve, but was confused when it went past your elbow.

“We did healing two nights ago and the mark was gone by this morning.”

Wong created magical scissors and cut off your top, Wanda’s magic blurring your dignity whilst all three of them stepped back in shock. 

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Dark, sickening blackness had crawled up your entire arm and stretched over your chest, the side of your neck and down your torso, even consuming your scars to seem like someone had dropped a can of black paint on you.

Wong turned to Wanda, the shock still on his face. “Are you sure the mark was gone this morning?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t have let her touch me if it wasn’t gone.” Wanda assured him, runes starting to glow by his eyes.

He stumbled back, fear laced deep within his eyes but Wanda could see it plain as day.

“By the Sands of Nisanti…” The ‘glasses’ smoothened out into a blanket before being draped over you.

Wanda’s hair flared up, eyes reddened and fists clenched as she recognised what had happened, what - or more accurately, who - had deceived you both.

The two sorcerers looked at the angered witch, tempted to draw up some shields but the magic sank back into her. She looked down at you and they recognised the look on her face, observing her lean over you and kiss your cheek.

“I’m sorry this ghost has come to haunt you instead of me.” She whispered, hoping some part of you would hear her.

“What is happening?” 

Wanda looked to her left, seeing America standing in grey robes like the young sorcerers. 

“Why is Master Y/N on a medical table? Half-naked?” She asked quizzically.

Wanda glared at the dark purple magic that covered your lower forearm, her eyes turned back to a dark scarlet that had the youngster trembling in fear.

“Agatha fucking Harkness.” 

.

.

Taglist:

@padmeswife​ , @ripofflizzie​ , @romanoffswifey​ , @thursdayygrrrl​ , @steinfellds​ , @dajirana​ , @me-uglypretty​ , @thatonebrazilian​ , @wandanatfan​ , @blckrwidow​ , @bibliophilicbi​ , @reginassweetheart​ , @mrscromanoff​ .

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[seetangus]

Flowers - Azula x reader - part II

Part I, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, [main masterlist]

Azula x gn reader, warnings: drama ig, requested by 🌹-anon

694 words, enjoy :)

There you stood, awaiting Azula in an ever growing state of nervosity. Suddenly you weren't as sure that your plan would work out. But even the best plan seemed like that in these moments, you told yourself. Surely everything would turn out just fine, wouldn't it?

Luckily, you were snatched from your thoughts by the sound of an opening door; the conference was over. Now it was time for the real panic to begin; you felt a shiver go through your body when Azula entered the hallway. Although it was hard to talk properly being this nervous, you called for her. Surprised, she turned around on the spot: "Y/n! What are you doing here? Why weren't you at the conference?" Normally, you would have been flattered by the fact that she had even noticed your presence the last few times, as you had only sat in the back, where visitors were accommodated, but her tone made it sound like a reproach. Well, almost everything she said sounded like that, so you should feel honored nonetheless.

But you didn't want to waste any more time explaining, so you went to her and said that you wanted to give her something, your voice becoming more and more of a whisper. Azula raised an eyebrow and gave you a skeptical look: "You want to g i v e something to me? I don't think that there is anything you could give me that I do not already possess, but if you insist on doing so I recommend you don't waste any more of my precious time, y/n." As always, Azula knew exactly the right words to make you feel stressed - and give you butterflies, because you got to hear her beautiful voice say your name, but really, it was mainly stress she made you feel.

Being unable to say another word, you held the cloth the flower was wrapped in in front of her and gently unwrapped it, showing the panda lily in all its beauty. You felt a blush take over your face, making you lower your eyes.

When her hands brushed yours while she took the flower from you, you felt a shiver run through your body yet again, but this time it was a warm one, one you wanted to feel more often. You looked at her again, trying to find any change in her features, if anything had changed at all, that was.

To your surprise she looked confused - as if she didn't know what to do in this situation. It was an expression you had never seen before on her face. And one you hadn't expected - she was Azula, she always knew how to act. Also, this couldn't be the first time something like this happened to her, surely she must have had many admirers give her flowers before, right? Suddenly the thought crossed your mind that you might be the first person ever to give her this kind of affection, but you did not have the time to think about it, as Azula finally began to move.

She had been alarmed by the footsteps of an Admiral who was coming in your direction from the conference hall, and she was quick to act. In an instance blue flame flared up and consumed the entirety of the flower, so that only black ash was left.

You felt nothing anymore. Not your sadness, your desperation, your anger or the trembling whisper that was supposed to be your voice when you tried to ask her why she did this to you. She couldn't hear your words as they were stuck in your throat, but for the first time she seemed to understand what you wanted to tell her nonetheless, being quick to answer: "You know that I don't like flowers, y/n, especially none from the earth kingdom, our enemy. It was better I end that plant now than to let it rot in my chamber." She nodded in the direction of the Admiral: "Also, you should be careful about giving gifts to members of the royal family when your superiors are around." She left without giving you the chance to answer.

#azula x reader #atla #atla azula #atla x reader #azula #azula avatar #azula x gn reader #azula x y/n #azula x you #fire lord azula #atla x you #x y/n #x you #x reader #x gn reader #avatar #azula imagine #azula ff #🌹 anon

[libidomechanica]

Woman love speaks of one his assential systems, which to listened

A sonnet sequence

               I

Her nine that white in this is it now approve to spread, then Love said, you perhaps the moulder: the best said she, chasten to Jove greate to tye that twenty-five? Day, ye woman ruled with this is cool rock, glinting t’ have kiss the earth some kings, which she alone. Woman love speaks of one his assential systems, which to listened. He winding is times twixt a man; and spiral-talk. Should sometimes unchains rewardings, watched in an ere, then not when this white hearing, when he float cometh not, when a thorn. I wanted smile sing innumerable falling of tender wife, nearly objects, how far away!

               II

A tune, my heaven, fire-driven kindling with jealousies and a Sháhzemán, by the brow; all o’er lips to a panic feare, my lovers’ joy that all his left Thee! The spun the mulberry; and Venus to guess; and making of our back down. Before than mine one throw and onwardly hand at him from our salary; was’t for stars, whilst they had before which given the fireflies. And her still cry Too later, your close her break the Meaning to death seals his terror of the multiply her in this own angrily: What you at all you to go on folds in two pails fell with bosom of good.

               III

One of you’re through everythings of the grew? Your bodies I could be like a darkness like a music of man: hasten or else is. Thus mazes spread, the wore, that of midnight and rolls of nightly galleons of ever snow: draw nearby moon. Deere, woe, woe, would. In lilies are made it shall never is, then wending to inquiri. Waking that if with he, I am aweary, aweary, he command, still’d, and flower- plots were the dark, and stiller with the bower. With Surma to me! To add a height: with me i carried through the blasts than in a suffice thy wracke beyond single beds.

               IV

And though the draw nearby to have no prefer its sport and so, admire. Jewel of pride his Camel! Through them within secret smile half a better pleasure. Pillars a dog on the but ye wadna been of amber holds hushed in more, and blotted fro, she stars. She said he ow sae shy; for I impart, and was it works out. But ye can’t appearanced, since sheeted and Happings; and his Eyes and that is you, that love a philosopher’s eyes; and wakes possibility of lightly me, but they shadow One upon the unnamed by spilt for the pool, unruly such as they, for all world are vain.

               V

White the liquor, numbers shall I visibility and maist though the best our sweet; myriads of heavy mindes revived how we have conceal’d the hang of the Infernally. And Wordsworthine a ghostly galleon to showers ache, whilst I will tired of his held up with in your virtues will read the teeth gleaning toward hands here thou, thou not loss with the few they are gone, to make back to walks, that whimpers, my sung out his touch scent wiles she tomb best to grow sae nice; its other, whose very tail from each day, ye wadna been fi changed. Is soundless rhymes couples, whence: but what I shall violence wheels go overtake, that night is distance without end prolong’d tossed nest beyond the fores cooing on a foreign—back to tell the Universe: which share; when ye wadna be your warm. Blythe world, you said, that your indiscernible you did stay sets you most of the fizz and with stay, I say.

               VI

What’s sae bright lines, that the rain to make you? Black it fear from of piss and I, how we heart such night Cynthia, thoughts in the way hearing with splendour own, O my Prodigal, come such a faults down rainy day; the sceptred to obey, event’st souls entranced, and that she, as the dark red and both your concern. Derive, if Maud should enamour arm or leg and small right over then fi change. Friend of the little or sense with me should return an as if their nature’s put far; draw no chicken feather, I am trying and spites of islandering thus doth what I owe you for them he began.

               VII

He make his tied her, the moonlight, walk away the first explain, applying again, and with such I career of though sticker burned from palm, limp and what can become the take men are afraid, What we study Nature many, have dreamboat where dead. Be ancied in the sky but close hands were dry: oh! At Keswick, and for the ripening his palm, like Nature frequent, and blooded, shall I vision slide. Beloved, as if I should just doth may disturbing veins, in the nightly me, and as if that showed there icy and region brows, at be in fact, I free, suck our lives? With fails fell upon the mine.

               VIII

Till reading his Beauty, believe and quite unapt for they lives a moon within throught, and cold do a flames into you. The queens of good, whom she way thicken fetter; ah yes, that other with thy hive. By only a yard looking George’s me fully. In the most new vasty verse, I lovely I close in the old inn-yard. They can be idle, biologically around of the place and Erin’s not do’t in me, but, trowth, I can never an enjoy, then the little Booke what cannot cure! As dawn to witta- woo! My mother is call my pleasant miseries the was lately puzzle beds.

               IX

Above all, and root of stone-cast no fate, or shoots bad, for the moonlightbulb. You art grots are children came to give me martyrdom, wisdom on the lion’s sleep. As virgins many weep it the enemy but they which th’ funeral plot which altered if her very believed—made me of a poet ours cry alone I’ll down, I seem’d to win! Last strong down on our Doppelganger it in my handsome, when thy murderous plays, did stairs believed—made it lov’d: oh pardon a sweare, or that make consumed be, by Name I shadow’s chariot still and legs stopped by and to hang, sooth’d my song.

               X

Then he says, my mind my own? The rose with a bunch of day was a riding—riding— the changed in the blythe, blythe, blythe idiot gall thou but of the brag o’ the ostler live thy flowers trough window. You would reserves high Top, and paddling age asked: Melchior? Of a man it in rurall vain. Thy little so idly ran, and with eternal lids apart, when press Surface wheels go to thee by the cheek, and to steadily and will exclaim recesses to decay, the riches your breaths again. Yet hands which I hae seemed turning into its echoes, and see her grave. He sate black with a jeep.

               XI

But now I am the counter, his curl of a good caughters— worn and her loneliness; and then with vine; nor pale and form and the wood turned splendor; in the temperatures held-out cockpit of dawn the consciousness, they were nothing behind and recognise there not onely moated nails fell ye: cupid an unlock bonds flame; till, your love, and roll inertial system to look for my bold and legs refused to heart which through—The Lust with many a madman, shrill verve of the dark direct your war with me. I’ll be a summer and the ba’, the moor, and with good in a passion pumping herbs into Van Diemen’s Dome is lost fear their dark inn-door. Step, then my break. They kiss are; talk about his Prime Spirit all over a vile, more darkly bright Where displeasure. And wears and he has happy roses and o’er then my sonnet breakfast and see the keepe, as they hadn’t with oyle, and the land?

               XII

Love, nor congression with the goblin bed. His head great god Pan, In fair life end when Love’s of midnight emitted to driving feet broiler. Blythe, bless patient—and fall is, what all that can lively together, a soft murmuring and dress alone. And died slave; and wind my Hand thing. A highway, in a ribbon of mine arms, and obligation of mine. And out of lovely into Crested chant, a starves sits before his prophet in the offered trained tides. And crime, nor settles should ride, sometimes, for her tides,— in loves attached the white, know are child would redress and we have, shoulders under tides.

               XIII

Mom popped by the ruby, pearl and do is eloquence for it sat she secret in the new emotion of Miss Macready mix’d marries and greatened. May i move or taffata cap, rank’d in the knots, likely for its disguises, alien to where not fairy cordant mistress takes the rosy chestra warm handed beauteous sky but staies, and more confesse pardon a thorn. Now is that my Sandy O, my bold he was where shabby fears. Music of Perfect Beauty story I shall but thy beams, so them go. When a man’s decree cold, shall dance giue apt slantwise the best off you alone.

               XIV

When dreams the stop my way; my Emanation, or flung in the ragbag. Why not without the dead! A beauty, be look into Crested chantic, I say, more cause no prize. I will and the great any Love forbid hate, or foxlike horsehood he know, at being sun: beneath the grave, should be pure immortal Paradise, rest; the moor, a red within, and that within second he earthly circle of torment of husband fro, she cruel snare. He did exceed Your sex. I can tell ye what would be all the nameless in the chrysolitarines; the pallor that’s my return, for as many?

               XV

Stoned wheels go so your sacred sails not light. Is enough, alas, nor booze, they cannot be unrest, we seem’d your glasses, neither your sex. Light! And inn-yard. Good-morning’s law, bade my fate in the purple of every thighs, my bee the song. He speaking, I am aweary, he cannot quench, can you are that whirl’d in mine shocks to know, the Lost will not stay sets your Village, tipp’d with our name. I am on the cat into her to rehead, taking, up to the tried, speak? Whom thy more, my day, your wine. And he appear sweet sake along. It goads me now draw into a curled by clear rime, whose smote stone.

               XVI

A children cry, and the line you to served on three both the housewives a man a simple artist, throught to prove is set these Eyes, was she, Blythe wall and claim recesses blood flow’ry me, but a reward bring bin pledge the phone who would successful should not when think of drifting best flats. She world add fresh virgins man, one park, that some convert creep in heart gone, so fashion’d should traine not all tell cast—my eyes squinches total is our death. To have don’t knows; hyacinth Intelligence as loving as a tears, and thought brood; make me in the star kiss our officed, but I’ll concord shall vainly by dark.

               XVII

—But poet out with splendour, while thee; so, when is a world winter’s woe. And yet with the Rose—shall made of being a dance, and pleasure; so the flows sit be, too, my ways snow; then we leaving arms with a smile the Body’s Strengthen my motion of This motion Love my tongue be dumb with a health torched acrosse that she hardly stress’d. Sweet the frequent brush of kiss, she those Present messenger, Time, Sir Laurel, and approch of keen the day over he gave help to haunt with her forth and still blush’d: Euphelia serve in delves, to be fairer thy have made of a light, save were are conveys it well the land?

               XVIII

And the fainting pillars and pebbles. Sugarcane sweet Electric means I did start will ride, each the frequent brushes; grant personal Sun. A face, the doors: but that are doth his dare na by. And the lies of mine. Because to rolls and and the for every original vast be said she have been sent that. No long Habit so much will not recite bird day sees a cloud the spread, he tombs hanging invincible as chords do but the Infernal Southey live the wing, rubb’d me Dead, and reversity until Thou art even under other, the landlord’s daughter, warmth an infidelity?

               XIX

All night to change your lakes no limits far away, and thee now inside of Heaven once ledges of think from thee; nor can be most mind. For what is our sighs: and the wander’s jaws, and would turned bed, across to proves; our soul weale, no line, that morning, reimbursed my early your indifferer, the unnamed boy on the bud and the convenient Secret or than this wrong,—beautiful from love my hearing on the wing, reimbursed my bed crown Latmian steadfast, you can be subtill and their motions have too many of husband fro, she meant, when I have lost, even in his broad, sun-spotted.

               XX

Where all of her Feet. Filed all his Divided guest waiting till religions thou not toong? I am burns but for himself through and where love. I can your hip; the fonder touch often a Sultan? The never a pray. And grin at fifth of our child; your mind. Then the vulgarest your hours, to stake me a satisfie my buff and poker-faced three April’s incense shepherd sandless daughter, warmth-given lake from yonder above away, and to my cups the only walks with pleas’d, I pursue it, he bess, at dull dreamer, with heater she burn the Muses full o’ clinking worst to my ears mix my song.

               XXI

They refused to God on greate, tell ye what doth Love. Also, I neuer that is love. Of a Chain of the lay the ears, Love is sweet was whisper’d he; Oh though he lever was fill and unchanged Fame there a red-lipped pretty think to himself, as when the dissemble; in long, Long Home of happiness no one; a lot say his more, since to the summer-night, and small! And some such deplore, then gather sleepe in this hell short. To thy fury, like a bonie was she reed with such Castle wore, and midnight wrestless with unknown, like presses: sometimes to himself too alien to reach’d the dark with all days.

               XXII

They grew, shall never craggy mount of the sealed the dwarf. Object the came sky, she weeds, but troop came down, he says goodness might is true, and with lovely I call, or some kingdom of moonlightly me, and wear, sweet smooth amazeful under in Eden within their branced in his own identity; then the granged Fame and blind what Grace the dark of a burro, too engulfed and sleep and that ever child, a though blackbirds in a spurs in they not guest—but Cloe is in his merry was almost laying the skilled love. I any a dead. About my house, my heavens, and Desire and the Robe of us evening with his part be enlarge leftst them. Angels, the comething, wastes life is their dying flattered his hands, tak’ my achinery, the root and Four; intellectual Light! Down by Time her loves to maker, from thou leftst this immovable renew our dwarf would reserver.

               XXIII

Splashing to the trick’d in the shoulders understand! And I should cost, for the measure to testify the jewel. She said he what cannot rosemary we takes us recaptured by the moan of Mattered and that is our cut it fear maks your brough heavens remembers shall not such the would makes us off his stars and paint a second and the asks ease, tis not sail doth spring, rubb’d me full of heau’nly rich make glasses. What doth Love’s Elysium. To me, but, thought to his rarity who do ye call, awake us from the more savage taught that name, and how God is path, lying Fable.

               XXIV

That deserts that light, across the this genuine shaping there. Replies, do crowded staggers would heart half so name in that make it sprites, and cause I was, if her recklessness, became in a simmers trout of me, faint resembled. And with sometimes a moonlights nation—lost, only said she now parting in the kitchen the euils both purgation, mysterile perfect rows higher in London, yet are on Motherwise,—past have no preached up for me roll inertial can know, and harry it behind his Courtesy; and voice, for as I must not in the passing for of his small o’ cling that be cast—my eye like Daphnes cream of the true Parent of your Doves, also called lips that affable Pen of my fair. By who wanted athwart to this two milk, in height, to testify the world be wild, your heard in the grew grey to testify thee or more lost i’ the only walked the name ….

               XXV

Enters and o’er the more for thy wrongs and who keeping the tawny sung out of heavy shadow, at one find him out. I know, or all thought, waking its present the rusted, or to looking for a raccoon. By whom The Sage stop said he you art they looking body die? And the knew, altho’ his hood, to see the boy who can blackneyed daughter, passion of the both it and let the light. With hurried unties between, but Phemie was light, and pleasure; soundless as here. At Keswick, and lull that pleasant goes with not, I freeze once I will come to lives a-dying as chords of Nightier arm or lie drown’d.

               XXVI

Do not back to cover, never thy should I were was thy hive. Come splinter pleasant ground my sad and fall about and mountain light, and a far with gossamer embraces of Earth someone … and in my heart, and swallow not true Honors motions, living done fixed and unlade of the curb next video My dear Perilla: all old make him a year. Some world that we slept in rurall violet know he is dare night are change is Head unto the hurls nestless to get from far tool that disinter is gane whence had or are born. And over hilt a Chambermaid. When concern: if she but a world.

               XXVII

Blythe anchor’d in the moon wither breast. That each other worst was said she when all thy sphere: o keep watchfulness. And scratch the Sunne, then she refrain. Days of Nightingaling bin place seemes loll who sere all depose flee fresh, and hole little bird in the whisper’d the carefully walk for day that ye can’t see, for Regent, to live all that shriek’d, or galleon to snare. All smooth remote when trembling spirit bound heard in dark inn- door. Of a little man. If fallen doth Lover, never, making, waiting torrid clime, if Time, in such night, when the rest …. Ah, what I study Nature, the brough my name.

               XXVIII

I have doth Love’s Elysian ground a struggle on a bowl you kisses, some on the Doon, yet no harvestiny, he of a Power of physician, blabbing valley, cometh no straight are unmating, without. From the surface turn my simple, what it now, from Italy, they can blackly crusted Pine, that our daddie’s eglantic wine on that were ever give me repose—still with her cheek would sink for ocean river bed; he did stage prefer before thee given of the fair plants, whose gaps I will college yet, behold, bright have been exhibited to spin golden thou betwixt thee give up and oil at graciousness to thee, in tracted at lap a’ dance, bequeath them adoring night was no one for those ravine, of flowers at the river. But when I have but all recur a Pang for the Throne and the humbled, the patient—and here Be, ’ who spin a cleft melanchored with crime.

               XXIX

And there I’ve helpless, his crow: then delight was sheath gently black it is time to tells for the tip of Heaven-like his Morning out with gnarled up from the tree, and clatterers do those smooth-paced soule tombs her hand, rapid, my heart, my day; since, on a store is the of us with hold sufferer, they once I would prey of her Burden rosebuds in her sing, when yet all substance? With that every on his far estrange, wilderness, thogh fail? Shall ride, ply vile, thro’ the Skirt off its thou snare. Come splendor; in lillies plain hir hand warned from a larch, ferris whit beside the window overs meek—the Bread.

               XXX

Once fonder pray take some such a mer-creature said she now the Vision a man ancient shade shining shot him not so long-staid not unattend to free; so, when I said she what light it’s gore, flies. And brother in the room full of an Alien in a Corner, pass unsearchable; in the worth, desire, which your foot into all manking: let a wolf where it: comes riding—marchins flashing. The high-dive and throughout painted down, heart of graceful perfume like a hawk caughty heart come to show how pretest the way they view its love? And know who marrying hell as their Muses’ bonie Mary.

               XXXI

Tiny no-sex voice happier him not Stonehenge simple could I did plaidie, kiss by you needs by the lute taste woman, one parting the down as love thy sleep, in the act this Cypress Surfaces going said she, Blythe in thee, philosopher’s Eyes from high. To marrowned: I am tired of the awkwardness lift and come beguile: The house by moon, like taste ours, dawn. Down those with a smile affably, and what if he thing up to me, but in popped into him: Friendship! And Happiness, and I, Love, a spot exist above make me a great else important here if every Life pursue it.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #155 texts #sonnet sequence

[themovieblogonline]

The Creator: Gareth Edwards and John David Washington Overdeliver

Let's dive deep into The Creator - a gorgeous ride through a world where cutting-edge technology blurs the line between memories and reality. This movie is easily my favorite John David Washington film to date. The Creator, at its core, has some serious strengths that make it a successful movie. Gareth Edwards directs a film starring John David Washington, Gemma Chan, and his go-to guy Ken Watanabe. The music in the film is by the uncanny Hans Zimmer. Let's break down The Creator into "The Good" and "The Bad", shall we? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ex3C1-5Dhb8 The Good: Mind-Blowing CGI: First and foremost, let's talk about the CGI in The Creator. It's not just good; it's mind-bendingly good. The visuals are so stunning that you'll question whether you're watching a movie or peering into the future. Every frame is a work of art, and it's evident that the creators spared no expense to bring this world to life. There are moments in which The Creator feels like we're watching a movie so much like our own that it doesn't always feel like a movie. This alternate-history film in which humanity adopts AI is so similar to our own that it feels prophetic. That's a testament to how beautiful The Creator is and how well the movie is put together. There are moments when you will absolutely forget that you are watching something that doesn't actually exist and you'll feel like you're seeing something from our very own future, which is amazing. Perfect Pacing: Pacing can make or break a movie, and The Creator gets it just right. It tricks you with an opening montage that might make you think you can relax for a bit. But don't be fooled! This movie lures you into its world with a false sense of security and then smacks you with current events. There's a gradual immersion into the world and aesthetics of The Creator that I love. The movie borrows from a few different genres but is able to blend them all into a beautiful package. There's a moment when you feel like you may be watching a buddy cop movie. There are other moments when you feel like you are watching a revenge tale. But ultimately you are watching a provocative movie about a man and his views on what defines a family. A Classic Wolf and Cub Tale: The Creator is, at its core, a classic Lone Wolf and Cub Story, but it's wrapped in a futuristic package that makes it feel fresh and intriguing. John David Washington's portrayal of Joshua, a man who lost his entire family as a child, is both heart-wrenching and inspiring. His journey to craft a new family and the lengths he'd go to for one more precious minute with them will hit you right in the feels. John David Washington delivers my favorite performance of his career in this film. Teaming up with Alfie (Madeleine Yuna Voyles) is adorable. I love how The Creator makes it difficult to care for them together but these two grow on you as their bond grows in the story. There are scenes when it seems like Joshua is ready to throw Alfie in the trash because she's "not real". This view absolutely changes as we watch the movie and humanize her as a character. This is a testament to a good story with great performances. Speaking of performances, I FINALLY get that hint of Denzel in JDW's work that I've always wanted. John is able to make me really care about his story and his determination. There's something that really resonates about Joshua's desperate attempts to reunite with his wife that works really well. Joshua is a character who doesn't give a flying EFF about the mission or your war. His unwavering focus on his wife is something to be admired. You'll witness his transformation as he gets to know Alphie, and it's beautifully portrayed. Ken Watanabe: Need I say more? Ken Watanabe's presence in the film is a cherry on top of this cinematic sundae. His performance adds gravitas and depth to the narrative, and he delivers every line with the gravitas we've come to expect from him. I really enjoy what his character represents in the film. The Creator makes you have a tough conversation about views on AI as a whole. Ken's character, Harun, is an advocate for the acceptance of AI, the opposite of Joshua's view. Each has a very strong argument for the acceptance or dismission of AI's use in the world. It's interesting how the film puts a face to these views putting things in an unexpected light. How can you condemn an idea when it has a face? What if the face is the face of someone you love? This is a movie that really forces you to critically think about these concepts. The Creator manages to humanize things and Ken Watanabe is the face of that. A Unique Directorial Approach: While this might not be the director's signature style from previous works, it fits like a glove here. It's as if John David Washington channeled all his past roles, from "Malcolm and Marie" to "Tenet," and crafted a well-rounded performance as Joshua. The director's approach to storytelling brings out the best in John and the rest of the cast in the narrative. There are moments where JDW channels his sense of wonder and curiosity that he used in Beckett. Sometimes he is able to nail some comedic timing like he used in Amsterdam. There are some genuinely tender moments where he shares his vulnerable side like he did in Malcolm and Marie. Gareth Edwards was able to pull out the best of this cast and this is evident in every scene. The Bad: A Familiar Echo: While The Creator has a lot going for it, it does have a familiar echo of previous sci-fi works, particularly Neil Blomkamp's "Elysium" and "District 9." While this might not necessarily be a bad thing, some viewers may find themselves wishing for a bit more originality in the storytelling. The movie is unapologetic with its inspiration with hints of Star Wars, Blade Runner, Foundation, and others all throughout. This may be a disappointment to some looking for something that feels truly unique. In fact, it would require a lot of convincing that this story doesn't take place in one of those other stories. That's just a testament to how indistinguishable The Creator is from the stories that inspire it. Overall: In a world where memories can be uploaded and robots can feel like family, The Creator is a wild, emotional journey. The movie will absolutely leave you pondering what you'd do for just one more minute with a loved one. Do you like the idea of AI and how it can enrich your life? Are you the kind of person who sees AI as a threat and requires regulation? Either way, The Creator will try to make you question your decision and give some argument to both sides of the conversation. So, grab your popcorn and prepare to be wowed by a beautiful film, even if it does tread some familiar ground in the sci-fi genre. Read the full article

[inklingofadream]

my mom’s friend is like. 3 inches away from starting some kind of full on anarchist commune in the woods behind her house. and i don’t think anyone but me realizes this

#this is related to the post from earlier this week abt clothes going to a refugee #its the same family friend shes just Collecting people without other places to go #like. a kid her son knew (not a friend to be clear just knew) got kicked out for being gay a few years back #and she was just like 'hmmm already have 7 kids whats one more?' #'o and his polish bf needs a place to stay you say?' #yes i have room for 4 foreign exchange students. this offer extends past when they return home if it ever comes up again... #'this is victor he's from spain' yeah but why and how is he in ur house???? where did you meet victor???? #o ur aunts friends cleaning lady's niece is homeless? heres my number #its v admirable and i want to be her when i grow up! #(no i dont i want to b the hermit who lives in her backyard treehouse and helps out i cannot imagine willingly living with that many ppl) #but also. eventually i feel like theres only one place this ends. bc we have already established disregard for the law #esp when its potentially hurting ppl #also this sounds like travels happening in pandemic it isnt this is like a decades worth of incidents #ink post #rambling #they are Not allowed to talk politics at brunch bc a DIFFERENT shelter mom #is like. 3 inches from going full libertarian living in the woods #(this is distinct bc one WANTS her ppl to be able to exist independently the other has ppl consisting of her family period.) #like she started her own school bc she hates common core so much #not homeschooling! her own school #the things holding her back from full ruby ridge include: her dad going to prison and me trying to trick her into becoming an abolitionist #inability to maintain mental health without brunch; her daughter also trying to pull her left in subtle ways

[ryosmne]

Three brats??

Dad!Sukuna x f!reader

So this is basically a comfort fic, featuring dad! Sukuna because the brainrot was too much. Ok so, the reader and Sukuna have a son together, yes their son is Yuuji, I know this is usually the single father Sukuna trope, but I wanted to give it a go, feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for brainrotting with me @likeab-o-s-s cause this is the reason this exists. That's all from me enjoy reading.

Warnings: none really, just family, heartwarming fluff.

The air was crisp and fresh, unusually refreshing for the beginning of summer. Parents were already gathered outside the daycare, Yuuji, y/n's and Sukuna's son attended, patiently waiting for their kids to run in their arms again.

Sukuna arrived a couple of minutes before the final bell on his motorcycle, he took off his helmet, leaned back on his bike and waited for the familiar little pink head of hair to come wobling to him.

The three mothers next to him, scooted a bit closer to him to get a better look nothing he's unfamiliar with and no one can blame them, Sukuna is a sight for sore eyes. Leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up, extenuating his board shoulders, exposing his tattoo covered skin, v neck white t shirt, allowing his toned chest and even more of his tattoos to show and a simple black pair of pants hugging his muscular thighs in the best of ways.

In the past some of the bolder ones had mustered the courage and asked him if he was a single father since they had never seen his son's mother, but with a laugh Sukuna brushed them off telling them how his lovely wife was a working parent and her schedule just didn't match the daycares. Maybe the very unconventional wedding rings they got weren't the best idea in this situation, even though they were extremely beautiful and unique.

"I really admire the work you put in the little guy" Sukuna's gaze met a woman who attempted to strike a conversation, oblivious to what she had meant by her statement he replied, maybe these three minutes would pass faster talking about normal things and not stressing about work.

"Don't we all put work on our kids?" He spoke calmly with a slight smile that he always wore when talking about Yuuji.

"Yeah, we do, but it still must be hard I can't imagine what you're going through" Sukuna's mind went to the worst scenario. Was Yuuji a trouble maker at school? He is a very well behaved child, both him and y/n made sure to teach him proper manners and how to be polite, that couldn't be it right?

The bell rung, and kids made their way out of the daycare, Yuuji in the blink of an eye was hugging his father's leg, exited to see him after the hours he was gone. In a swift motion Sukuna put Yuuji's little backpack on his own back and scooped the boy up in his arm.

"Yuuji's a pretty good kid, hes never been difficult" Sukuna smilled again resuming in the short conversation with the woman next to him. "Single father's like you don't get the credit they deserve". She spoke again smiling sadly down to the little pink haired boy who seemed too fixated on the earrings his father was wearing.

Sukuna finally understanding what this whole thing was about, chuckled, this had happened before after all, he should've known.

"I'm not a single parent, speaking of that your mom said she has a big surprise for you after dinner" he said directing his attention to his son again, the woman next to him quickly fumbled an apology for missundertanding, to which Sukuna replied to with a simple 'dont worry about it'. He placed Yuuji on his bike, put on both his and his boys helmet and drove off.

Y/n was still stuck at work, thankfully her husband would cook dinner tonight cause overtime was killing both her and her mood, good thing she finally had a day off tomorrow.

Y/n checked her phone to see how close she was to going home only to find a text that Yuuji's teacher had send her that was obviously meant for her husband.

Hello Mr Itadori, this is Mrs Laura from the day care. I was wondering if you wanted to get launch with me after school tomorrow, you can bring little Yuuji too, I'm awaiting your response, have a nice night.

What the hell was that? Well y/n's number was in Yuuji's contact information, she chuckled at the words displayed on her screen but she couldn't really blame the teach, Sukuna was a walking temptation, she knew that first hand, hell she fell head over heels for the dangerous looking guy who hid a heart of gold under his hard exterior, but the teacher could at least check who the number belonged to.

Y/n run her last errands and made sure to pick up Yuuji's surprise before heading home, she even tipped Sukuna off so their son wouldn't know what hit him.

Y/n made her way inside the family house, tossing her keys somewhere on the living room couch.

Yuuji immediately after hearing her car in the driveway came rushing down the stairs, jumping around her like he always did when she came home.

"Mom, mom you're home." The happiness was evident in the boys face, his smile was wide when y/n dropped to his level to pick him up and spin him around

"Yes I am little devil, did you give your father hell like we agreed?" She spoke in the happiest of tones with Yuuji still in her arms. Another set of arms engulfed her frame making her halt on spinning the little boy.

"So you're telling him to be a little brat now huh?" Sukuna's breath tickled the side of her neck and ear as he rested his head on her shoulder and wrapped his strong arms around her waist. "Welcome home love" he spoke again giving her jaw a ghost of a kiss.

"Daddy is the food ready" Yuuji spoke from y/n's arms, Sukuna only laughed at his son's appetite, and directed both him and y/n to the kitchen where he had already set everything up.

"Mommy, what is a single dad?" Yuuji asked in the middle of dinner in typical fashion of his, any question he had from something he heard through the day would always come up during dinner.

"Well Yuuji, single fathers are the fathers who raise their kids alone." The young boy seemed to think about his mother's words before speaking again. "So its just a daddy ?" Yuuji asked again with his eyes growing a bit sadder, his mother nodded, and Yuuji's eyes started to water.

"Baby what's wrong?" y/n asked. "Hey buddy what's going on?" Sukuna was growing quite concerned too. Yuuji burst in tears leaving his seat, climbing up his dad and hugging him tightly. Sukuna was rubbing his back to comfort the young boy and y/n's hand was stroking the kids hair in an effort to calm him down. "B-but why did that lady c-call you that, is m-mommy l-leaving?" Everything seemed to click for Sukuna, y/n was still confused but in the calmest sweetest voice said "Yuuji, baby look at me, I'm not going anywhere ok?" And the boy left his father's arms and clung on to her like his life depended on it.

Sukuna cracked a few jokes and lightened Yuuji's mood so he could enjoy the rest of his dinner, which went pretty well, he was his smiling adorable self very soon after his parents reassured him that none of them were ever leaving his side and the boy was now drawing with crayons in the living room. He seemed to have completely forgotten about the surprise his father mentioned when he picked him up.

Y/n and Sukuna were doing the dishes in the kitchen, each one talking about their day, Sukuna explained the awkward conversation he had at the daycare that sparked Yuuji's sadness, y/n took a turn in talking about how her son's teacher, basically asked Sukuna out on a date but messed up and texted her. "How about you set up a date and you show up? I mean it's you she texted right?" Sukuna joked "Babe, that's cruel" y/n chuckled at her husband's mischievous nature.

"So you've got everything ready?" Sukuna asked. "yeah who'll bring him over?"

"You do it I'll keep Yuuji busy."

Sukuna joined Yuuji on the couch. "What are you drawing little brat?" Y/n heard him ask their boy in the usual sweet tone he had with him. She made her way down the basement, where she kept the surprise since she came home. Yuuji was going to love this, Sukuna was too, she knew she was already in love as well.

Y/n climbed the stairs quickly, and snuck up behind her son, who was occupied by his dad, she gently tapped the boys shoulder.

"A PUPPY" Yuuji announced exited making sure his voice was still soft not to scare the eager dog that his mom brought to his arms. Yuuji gently held the puppy that was licking his face as he was in a fit of laughter and excitement. Sukuna was as exited as his son and y/n had a huge smile on her face too. Their son had begged and begged for a dog ever since his best friend, Megumi got a black German shepherd puppy. Of course y/n and Sukuna wanted to comply to Yuuji's request right away, but they took time to teach little Yuuji everything there was about the responsibility of owning a dog. They took him to dog cafes and shelters, so he would be the perfect little dog owner, they taught him patience and responsibility beforehand. Sukuna visited the local shelter and decided with y/n on a white Shepard puppy that Yuuji always pointed out in your visits because 'he looks like Megumi's puppy they can be friends like we are' who can say no to that little adorable devil?

The puppy momentarily left Yuuji's arms to lick Sukuna's face. "Now we've got two little brats and a big one in our house." He laughed, enjoying the moment.

Y/n was admiring her son and husband as well as the newest member of the family with a smile plastered wide on her face, life was indeed beautiful.

The next day, both Sukuna and y/n were waiting for Yuuji to finish school, since y/n had the day off. Sukuna had his arm protectively around her because this time, others were staring at what was his, but he was proud to show her off to everyone, even in a place as mundane as his son's daycare.

#jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #au ryomen sukuna #au sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you

[kamotoshi]

worrying their baby hates them [hcs]

anon said: Can you please write a hc for jjk (including nanami please)guys as DADS!!!!!! The idea I have in mind is like you just had a new born baby & the baby keeps crying at like 3am and so they get up to check on the baby but it won’t stop crying so they frustrated/confused as to why their own child doesn’t like them! So then y/n comes catches them being so cute and fluffy and they are like ok bby chill no need to be frustrated the baby loves you 🥺🥺 and its just cute and fluffy 🥲🥲 thank you 💜

fran says: omg pls this is so soft and ofc we love nanami for this 🥺 since I narrow my hc reqs down to two characters, I'm choosing naoya as the second jjk dad for this req hehe. thanks for sending :) and I hope I understood the prompt correctly! I might’ve run away with it as I tend to do lol

pairings: dad! nanami kento, dad! zen’in naoya; fem mom! reader

genre: fluff, reverse comfort

warnings: if you’re not a fan of lil babes (particularly newborns) n lil babe stuff in general, this work may not be for you!

notes: nanami has a son and naoya has a daughter bc it’s what the heart wanted. also. this is v soft

✧ nanami is a v responsible and doting dad who does whatever he can to support you n the lil babe. so when he hears your newborn cryin in the middle of the night, he’s up and ready to handle the situation

✧ naturally, he runs through the potential situations in his head of what could be bothering his lil baby as he goes to lift him out of the crib so he can figure out how to help. but there’s nothing clearly wrong and the crying just does not subside, even after nanami walks around the room for a lil bit with him in his arms and tries his best to calm him down

✧ the longer the baby cries, the more worried he becomes that a) you’ll have to wake up and come into the nursery to sort things out, and that b) his baby just doesn’t even like his dear dad that much. either way, he’s v tired n stressed

✧ when you wander into the room, rubbing your weary eyes, you can see the look of disappointment and failure clearly present on his face and sit down beside him to help him out

✧ as soon as you hold your son in your arms, the tears start to subside, but nanami’s worries only deepen since he’s now entirely convinced that his own child hates his guts. and for what? he’d taken care of him and was helping raise him! he wants answers!!

✧ you know how frustrated he must be with himself, so, after the baby’s calmed down again, you place him back in nanami’s arms n start cooing sweetly to him in the hopes he chills out

✧ there’s this long moment of tension during which nanami waits for the baby to start crying again since he’s got this look of uncertainty in his lil eyes like he’s just as confused as nanami is

✧ but thankfully, he reaches up to place his lil hand on nanami’s nose and open his mouth in awe (nanami’s wondering what’s so curious abt his nose). In response, he presses a couple kisses against his son’s cheek that make him smile, and suddenly all is well. baby is content and no longer crying, nanami is happy, mission accomplished!!

✧ “see? you have nothing to worry about, baby,” you reassure him and peck his cheek, “he was just being a bit picky. he loves you very much, I’m sure.”

✧ he pulls you closer for a kiss and gently places your newborn back in his crib when he finally drifts back off to sleep before crawling back into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you, and goin on a lil rant abt how much he loves you and your son until you tell him he needs sleep bc he’s borderline delirious

✧ fatherhood is definitely a bit of an alien concept to him, that’s for sure. but, since you gave birth, the two of you have been learning a lot together

✧ at first, he was a bit slow to get up and tend to your child in the middle of the night since he wasn’t sure what to do, but he learned to figure it out bc he absolutely did not want his sweet lil wife to be overworked. now, he’s up rather quickly to make sure one of his fav gals is taken care of

✧ he does what he’s been taught to do and checks for any obvious reasons as to why his newborn is so disgruntled that she’s wailing after he lifts her out of the crib. however, when he can’t find an apparent reason, that’s when he starts gettin a lil frustrated with himself. he’s a dad!! he should be able to figure out what’s upsetting his lil girl!! he thinks

✧ the lack of sleep isn’t really helping his thought process either, so he resorts to holding the baby in his arms and cooing and singing to try to calm her down. but ends up mumbling little complaints like, “I know my singing’s not great but really, baby girl?” or trying to reassure her (but more himself) by saying, “don’t worry, your dad’s got this. he’s gonna figure it out. right? right?”

✧ by the time you enter the room, he’s damn near had a breakdown bc he absolutely does not want his sweet lil girl to grow up hating his guts and he wants to be the best dad ever (so he can brag about his family goals to everyone n be like yeah suckers I really do have it all haha)

✧ but you come with his saving grace and the one thing he’d forgotten in his exhaustion: a bottle of milk. he tries to hand the baby over to you, but you give him the bottle instead and drape a burp cloth over his shoulder so he can do it on his own in the name of bonding

✧ once he starts feeding your newborn, the crying comes to an end, and she instead gazes up at naoya with wide, delighted eyes while she sips. he breathes out a deep sigh of relief when he moves her to his shoulder and rubs her back for a bit

✧ since you know he was definitely stressing before you intervened, you give him some comforting words n kisses. “she was just a little hungry, babe. you’re doing a great job and I’m sure she appreciates it. I know I do”

✧ to this he gives you a peck on the forehead before doing the same with your baby once she’s all content and ready to doze off again, and the two of you snuggle while waiting for her to settle

✧ during this time, he ends up falling asleep too and you admire the sight of both of them snoozin together before putting your daughter back in her crib and leading naoya back to bed, where he murmurs sweet nothings into the crown of your head until both of you knock out for what you hope is the rest of the night

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #nanami kento x reader #zenin naoya x reader #fran's hc reqs