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nayziiz · 12 days

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It's Rough | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Lando watched with a mix of amusement and frustration as she attempted to grasp the basics of golf. Despite her proficiency in various other activities like water sports, skiing, and driving, golf seemed to elude her completely. He had hoped that her natural athleticism and coordination would translate well onto the golf course, but it appeared that golf was a different beast altogether.

Her swings were awkward and uncoordinated, sending the ball veering off in unpredictable directions. Lando patiently offered guidance, demonstrating proper technique and providing words of encouragement, but it seemed as though golf just didn't click for her.

Despite her struggles, she approached each swing with determination, refusing to let her initial failures dampen her spirits. With each missed shot, she laughed off her mistakes and eagerly lined up for another attempt, determined to conquer the elusive sport.

Lando had known from the moment she insisted on tagging along to the golf course that her declaration of merely watching and cheering was likely wishful thinking. Despite her assurances, he could practically see the curiosity and determination dancing behind her eyes, ready to pounce at any opportunity to join in on the action.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to deny her the chance to be a part of the day. He understood that her company would bring a different energy to the outing, even if it meant potentially disrupting the boys' dynamic on the course. Besides, the thought of her sulking at home while he enjoyed a day with his friends was far less appealing than dealing with the inevitable consequences of her joining in on the golfing shenanigans.

So, with a resigned sigh and a knowing smile, Lando agreed to let her come along, silently preparing himself for the whirlwind of chaos that often accompanied her presence. Deep down, he knew that her insistence on joining them stemmed from a desire to spend time with him, even if it meant enduring a sport she clearly had no interest in.

As they arrived at the golf course, Lando braced himself for whatever antics she had in store.

As Lando focused on his swing, he couldn't help but be distracted by her restlessness. He noticed her initially staying put behind the steering wheel of the golf cart, as promised, but her impatience soon got the better of her. With a hint of amusement, he watched as she hopped out of the cart and began to circle it, her movements fluid and graceful.

Caught off guard by the sight of her, Lando found himself momentarily forgetting about the game at hand. His gaze followed her as she moved around the cart, her skirt swaying gently with each step, revealing glimpses of her smooth, tanned skin. He couldn't deny the allure she exuded, even in such a mundane setting as a golf course.

Despite his best efforts to maintain his focus on the game, her presence proved to be a delightful distraction. He couldn't help but admire her beauty and the effortless confidence with which she carried herself, even in a sport she had no interest in.

As she circled the cart, a playful smile danced on her lips, and Lando felt a surge of affection for her. Despite her initial reluctance to join them on the course, he couldn't deny that her presence added an undeniable charm to their day. And as he watched her, he silently thanked whatever force had convinced her to come along, knowing that moments like these were what made their time together truly special.

“Hey, come on. Focus, man,” Carlos moaned quietly, making sure no one else could hear him.

Carlos's whispered admonition brought Lando back to reality, reminding him of the game at hand. He chuckled softly at Carlos's remark, acknowledging the truth in his friend's words.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lando replied, shaking his head slightly. “But can you blame me? She's something else.”

Carlos rolled his eyes playfully, understanding Lando's sentiment all too well. Lando made a concerted effort to refocus his attention on the game. Despite the temptation to steal glances at her, he knew that winning the game required his full concentration. With a renewed sense of determination, he squared his shoulders and prepared to take his next shot, determined to put aside any distractions and give it his all. As the game continued, Lando found himself occasionally sneaking glances in her direction, unable to resist the magnetic pull she seemed to have on him.

As the afternoon progressed and the rounds of golf continued, she found herself drawn into the conversation among the boys. Standing in between them, she listened intently to their banter and jokes, occasionally chiming in with her own witty remarks.

Before she knew it, a few of the boys had handed her their clubs, entrusting her with the task of holding them as they prepared for their shots. At first, she accepted the clubs with a bemused smile, unsure of what to do with them. But as the afternoon wore on, she found herself inadvertently assuming the role of their caddy, carrying their clubs from hole to hole with ease.

Despite her initial reluctance to participate in the game, she quickly embraced her new role with enthusiasm, eagerly offering advice and encouragement to the boys as they navigated the course. With each swing of the club, she cheered them on, her enthusiasm infectious as they worked together as a team to conquer the challenges of the course.

“How about you give it a try?” Alex's encouragement rang out across the green, much to Lando's dismay.

He watched with a mixture of apprehension and amusement as she smirked and accepted the club from Alex's outstretched hand. With a playful glint in her eye, she positioned herself on the grass, mimicking the stance Lando had patiently demonstrated to her numerous times before.

“Come on, you've got this,” Alex cheered, egging her on as she prepared to take her shot. Lando couldn't help but sigh, his expression a mixture of resignation and nervousness.

“Please, do not embarrass me,” Lando pleaded half-jokingly, knowing full well that her unpredictable nature often led to unexpected outcomes.

Her playful gasp of mock hurt elicited chuckles from the boys, but she quickly shifted her focus back to the task at hand. With a determined expression, she squared her shoulders and prepared to take her shot, eager to redeem her reputation.

But as she swung the club, it was immediately evident that this attempt wouldn't be as successful as she intended. With a wild and uncoordinated motion, she missed the ball entirely, the club swishing through the air with a whooshing sound. A chorus of groans and laughter erupted from the boys, their amusement mingled with sympathy for her failed attempt.

Lando, unable to bear the sight of her struggling any longer, groaned in pain as he moved to take the club away from her.

“Hang on. You all got time to warm up, how about you let me give it another shot?” she insisted.

Her insistence caught the attention of the group, prompting them to pause and exchange curious glances. Lando, his expression a mixture of defeat and resignation, reluctantly stepped away, giving her the space she needed to make another attempt.

With a determined gleam in her eye, she positioned herself once again, her grip on the club steady as she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ignoring the teasing remarks and sceptical looks from the boys, she focused all her attention on the ball before her, blocking out any distractions.

And then, with a swift and controlled motion, she swung the club, the sound of impact resonating through the air as the club connected with the ball. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they watched in disbelief, their eyes glued to the ball as it soared through the air with precision and grace.

Their disbelief turned to astonishment as the ball arced gracefully over the green, heading straight for the hole with unerring accuracy. Cheers erupted from the group as they watched in awe, unable to believe their eyes as the ball came to rest just inches from the hole.

“Wow, that was great!” Alex exclaimed with a huge smile plastered on his face.

“Must be luck. Try again,” Max insisted, challenging her more than Lando would have liked.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

Encouraged by Alex's praise and challenged by Max's insistence, she couldn't resist the opportunity to prove herself once more. With a confident smile, she accepted the dare, her competitive spirit reignited as she prepared to take another shot.

Positioning herself with precision, she focused intently on the ball before her, blocking out any distractions as she visualised her next move. With a deep breath, she swung the club with determination, her movements fluid and controlled.

This time, luck seemed to be on her side once again as the ball sailed through the air, following a perfect trajectory towards the hole. The group watched in anticipation, holding their breath as the ball approached its target.

And then, with a satisfying thud, the ball landed on the green, rolling steadily towards the hole before coming to a stop just inches away. Cheers erupted from the group as they celebrated her impressive shot, their disbelief mingled with admiration at her uncanny skill.

“Please tell Lily she's a wonderful instructor,” she remarked to Alex, her tone laced with a hint of mischief as she acknowledged the guidance she had received. Alex chuckled in response, a knowing gleam in his eye as he nodded in agreement.

After her impressive display on the green, she couldn't resist a moment of playful triumph. With a smug smile directed at Lando, she returned to the golf cart, her steps light with the weight of her accomplishment. Lando, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, watched her with a mixture of disbelief and begrudging admiration.

As she settled back into her seat on the golf cart, she couldn't resist shooting Lando a smug grin, revelling in the satisfaction of having proven him wrong. Despite his initial scepticism, she had managed to exceed his expectations, leaving him shaking his head in disbelief.

Lando, for his part, could only shake his head in response, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that she had just hit the ball perfectly not once, but twice in a row. It was a feat that seemed almost too improbable to believe, yet there she was, the evidence of her success undeniable.

As they continued their game, Lando couldn't shake the feeling of astonishment that lingered in the air. Despite his doubts, she had managed to defy expectations and leave her mark on the golf course in more ways than one.

As they made their way towards Lando's McLaren, he couldn't help but be curious about her sudden improvement on the golf course. With a lighthearted tone, he broached the topic, unable to resist a teasing remark.

“So, Lily's been helping you, huh?” he asked, a playful smirk playing on his lips as he glanced in her direction. She chuckled in response, the memory of her recent success still fresh in her mind.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted with a wink, her tone tinged with amusement. Lando raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, feigning disbelief at her confession.

“I see how it is,” he teased, a hint of mock indignation in his voice. “Getting private lessons behind my back?”

She laughed at his exaggerated reaction, shaking her head in amusement.

“Nothing like that,” she reassured him, her smile warm and genuine. “Surprisingly enough, it just took a bit of patience to teach me.”

“Are you saying I have no patience?” he countered, his tone tinged with offence as he feigned hurt.

“None whatsoever,” she replied with a grin, her amusement evident in her voice as she teased him gently.

Despite his protests, she knew that his patience had been tested more than once during their golfing adventure. she couldn't help but notice a hint of disappointment in Lando's expression. His competitive nature was undeniable, and the idea of her newfound golfing skills seemed to sting his pride just a little.

“How much does it hurt knowing your girlfriend can now golf?” she teased, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she gently prodded at his ego.

Lando's response was a playful groan, his lips curling into a rueful smile as he shook his head in mock resignation. Deep down, she knew that he was secretly proud of her achievement, even if it meant enduring a few jokes at his expense.

“It doesn't hurt, but it sucks that you're better at it than me now,” he admitted, his tone a mixture of resignation and playful competitiveness. With a soft chuckle, she gently pressed him against the car, her body close to his as she looked up at him with a knowing smile.

“Baby, when will you learn?” she teased, her voice low and seductive as she leaned in closer. “I'm good at a lot of things.”

As she spoke, she subtly shifted her leg between his, a teasing reminder of her many talents and abilities. Lando couldn't help but laugh at her playful confidence, his own competitive spirit momentarily forgotten in the warmth of her presence.

“I know. So, when we get home, you can put your mouth to good use,” he argued, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in to kiss her.

She couldn't help but chuckle at his boldness, her laughter mingling with the warmth of his lips against hers.

“Disgusting,” she screeched in mock indignation, her hand playfully slapping his chest as she pushed him away with feigned reluctance.

Despite her protestations, there was a playful gleam in her eye, a hint of anticipation as she met his gaze with a knowing smile.

“But, with pleasure,” she added with a wink, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she leaned in to return his kiss.

As their lips met once more, they shared a moment of quiet intimacy, their playful banter giving way to the warmth of their affection for one another. And as they finally pulled away, their laughter echoed through the air, a reminder of the love and joy that filled their lives together.

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teeny-tiny-revenge · 3 months

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It's home cinema manufacturing time! 🏴‍☠️ Gonna put my pirate show on my shelf! (I'm doing an Arts and Crafts Project and I'm making it everyone's problem.)

After seeing how much they cost, I abandoned the idea of getting a Blu-ray writer for now. For the time being, good old DVDs is what it's going to be! My TV is old and not very big, so DVD resolution is gonna be fine.

It's been ages since I last burned a DVD. For the full experience, I'm gonna create nice menus and pretty sleeves for the boxes. Graphic design is my passion! Um.

Well. First needed to find a program to do stuff with. I'm a Linux guy, so I'm using Devede. (Which is free, btw. In case someone else wants to do a low cost spot of putting pirate show on the shelf.)

DVDs fit a maximum of 120 minutes of video. So, four episodes, I thought. But after a quick attempt, the program refused to do more than three (maybe because of the menu also taking up space, and four episodes cutting pretty close to the 120 min mark?). Anyway, three episodes per disc it is. It's a pretty nice runtime for watching the entire disc, IMO. An hour and a half, and then you can return to reality to realise you should probably eat something, or go to bed because it's midnight.

OFMD with its current two seasons has a total of eighteen episodes, which is divisible by three. You get the following setup:

Disc 1: Pilot, A Damned Man, The Gentleman Pirate - That's pretty good, Stede's introduction to piracy all on one disc!

Disc 2: Discomfort in a Married State, The Best Revenge is Dressing Well, The Art of Fuckery - All bangers. Great to watch together, our boys meet and shenanigans happen!

Disc 3: This is Happening, We Gull Way Back, Act of Grace - Many romantic moments, lots of great scenes, shit hits the fan at the end there. Alright!

Disc 4: Wherever you go, there you are, Impossible Birds, Red Flags - ... Pain and angst! What have I done!?! The disc of horrors. Gotta make sure to have tissues at hand when I watch this. But hey, it also has messy bun Ed! Small mercies.

Disc 5: The Innkeeper, Fun and Games, The Curse of the Seafaring Life. - Another disc with all winners. I love all these episodes so much! (You can watch this disc to recover from the trauma of the previous one!) But seriously, this one slaps.

Disc 6: Calypso's Birthday, Man on Fire, Mermen - Great combination again. Season finale! Love and excitement!

... Honestly, except for the psychological damage of putting all the most painful episodes together, this is coming out pretty cool. Says a lot about how good the show is. I actually really love all the episodes (yes even the painful angsty episodes of massive depression). Thinking about this little project really reminded me how much I love this entire show.

So, we got a tracklist, now menus, then we can burn this stuff!

I did the menu backgrounds in GIMP. Realised I have a big folder full of screenshots I took myself, screenshots someone else took and posted on Tumblr, official promo pics for the show, and I have no idea anymore where most of them are from, because I named the files according to what's on them. Which is useful for when you want to find pics (Need a picture of cursed suit Stede? I have files named that, easy peasy!), but not so great if you wanted to give credit to whoever took a given pic you used. (It's probably @sherlockig or @ofmd-ann or @blakbonnet. Please feel credited, your beautiful screens and gifs brighten my day, and some of them are now probably part of my DVD menus. Shrunk down and cropped, but, yeah.)

I originally wanted to structure my menus as having the title of an episode, then some pics from it, then the next episode, then pics from that, and so forth, but I couldn't convince the program to give me the necessary padding between the menu items, so I ended up just putting the episode images below the menu. Still like it.

Anyway, DVD menus can also play sound! Behold a crappy video of my beautiful creation (provided entirely for sound):

It plays Gnossienne N°5!

More crappy pics of my other disc menus:

Gonna make them some nice sleeves next. Some day. Gotta make sure they all work properly first. So. I'll be on my sofa, watching my DVDs. With menus! (Edit: here are!)

#piracy ho!#ofmd #teeny rambles #ofmd dvds

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bosbas · 6 months

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Chapter 7: you search in every maiden's bed for something greater

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 3.2k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, misogyny (not by anyone relevant dw), idiots in love being idiots in love, angst, mentions of sex and drinking

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: errr.... it's going to get worse before it gets better. sorry in advance

June 19, 1814 - Perhaps word of this author's disappointment by the ton's lack of happenings has reached Bridgerton ears. Whispers around the ton indicate that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton has been packing his belongings for an extended duration, leading one to speculate if this departure is more than a fleeting journey. The observant eyes of society are left to wonder about the purpose behind such preparations and whether, in the midst of packing, the second Bidgerton son is inadvertently leaving behind not only his material possessions but also a potential union with a certain Miss Beaumont.

Benedict was just about done packing, disappointed that his upcoming trip had been pointed out in the ton's gossip column. He was hoping to slip out relatively quietly, not needing further speculation on why he was leaving you, an undoubted topic of conversation for Lady Whistledown. The very reason he was leaving was for your sake, and he didn't want anyone making his own absence harder for you.

The past days had been nothing short of agonizing for more than a few reasons. Ben knew his mother was disappointed in him for leaving, not immune to her sad stares and soft sighs, but he just couldn't go on like this. If he ignored his feelings, he knew he wanted you to find a husband, just as you had asked him to let you do. But he couldn't ignore his feelings. Not entirely, at least. Benedict was going half insane watching you dance with eager suitors and hearing you talk about the exotic and beautiful bouquets you had later received from them. He could barely sleep, plagued by thoughts of someone else making you laugh, and the dull ache in his chest had become a permanent fixture.

His art studio felt cold and empty now, rarely graced by your warm and lively presence. Ben couldn't find it in himself to spend the hours he used to in there, missing your animated commentary as you read whichever book you had taken from the Bridgerton library that day. He had barely been able to paint at all recently, inside or outside his studio, frustrated that every single sketch or painting he started was in some manner related to you. Worse, he found he had little to no inspiration for new works without you by his side. Every single aspect of his life was completely turned upside down by your absence. Even the moon looked different. He could not look at the stars at night without remembering how your eyes looked at night, reflecting the soft starlight in the sky.

So he was leaving. Perhaps it was a cowardly thing to do, but Benedict was desperate to regain some sense of normalcy in his life. He knew he couldn't have you, but he couldn't watch someone else have you, either. The only viable choice he saw was to go away, back to the countryside. Of course, his family saw right through his weak excuse of "needing time away to work on his art," but at least no one had the sense to confront him about it. Yet still, the truth lingered in the look of pity he received from Anthony and Colin and the quietly exasperated "Are you joking?" he heard Francesca whisper to Hyacinth.

Ben had come to see you a few days ago and broken the news, and you had barely been able to concentrate since. Even though you had established some distance from your best friend, you still relished in the comfort of his nearby presence. You knew that even if you had a dreadful dance at a ball, one quick smile from Ben could immediately heal your stepped-on feet and put you in a better mood.

But you supposed him leaving was for the best. At the moment, you weren't seriously considering any suitors yet. No longer having Benedict by your side might end up being more beneficial to you, even if your eyes were constantly filled with unshed tears and your lower lip was raw from nervous biting at the thought of him away in the country for months on end. You supposed you would have to move on from him, laying your feelings to rest. That was the whole point, was it not? Benedict would leave, and you would stop wishing every man you talked to was him.

You were in your garden now, hiding in your usual spot behind the rose bushes with your nose stuck in a book in an attempt to evade your mother's call to practice your needlepoint. With Benedict leaving tomorrow, you reasoned that you should be excused from mind-numbing activities such as sewing due to your emotional distress. Unfortunately, your mother did not share this opinion, and you were forced into hiding to escape her demands.

Hearing footsteps coming your way, you shrunk further behind the bushes, hoping you hadn't been caught and could spare another five minutes of peace.

"Y/N Beaumont, come out of there this instant. You cannot simply avoid me when you don't want to play the pianoforte," came Benedict's voice from above you, taking on a high-pitched voice as he attempted to imitate your mother when she was frustrated with her children. You instantly relaxed, bursting into laughter.

"You are so evil! I thought I had actually been caught out. Although my mother wants me to practice needlepoint instead of pianoforte this time," you said as you rolled your eyes, playfully hitting his arm as he sat beside you.

Ben laughed, shaking his head and snatching your book from your hands, leafing through it absentmindedly. "Hmmm, I figured it was something like that. I came into your house and saw the Countess quite exasperated, asking me if I knew where you were hiding," he said. Seeing your widening eyes, he quickly continued, "Oh, but don't worry. I would never betray you like that. The rose bush stays between us."

"Well, since you're leaving tomorrow, you very well could have revealed the hiding spot and escaped an untimely death," you retorted. Although you meant it as a joke, you couldn't help the break in your voice as you took in the reality of Benedict leaving for the countryside. You wrapped your arms around one of his, resting your head on his shoulder. You were breaking every rule you had established for your friendship, but you didn't care anymore.

Sighing deeply, Benedict placed his hand on top of yours. He could easily sense the pain behind your playful dig and couldn't help feeling the same way. Not finding the strength to continue the faux-playful exchange, Ben simply placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. "Either way, I could never. You're still my best friend. Always have been, always will be, Y/N Beaumont."

You could feel a wave of tears welling in your eyes, starting to flow as you softly said your next words. "I know. I'm going to miss you, Benedict Bridgerton."

He looked down at you, feeling a fondness so fierce he felt the prickling of tears in his eyes. He cleared his throat, wanting desperately to end this chapter of your lives on a good note. He grabbed your hands and stood you up so you were facing him. He could barely stand the sight of your tear-stained face, beautiful as ever despite your reddened eyes. A few quiet moments passed between you, both of you attempting to regain composure, but the pain of losing the other made it entirely impossible.

He was still holding on to your hands, thumbs rubbing softly up and down in the way he had always done. But this time, they did not bring you comfort. Instead, you burst into tears, closing the short distance between you and sobbing into his chest, not caring that your tears might ruin his clothes. To be loved was to be changed, after all, and God did you love him.

Wrapping his arms tightly around you as you sobbed, Benedict was at a loss. He couldn't fathom what life would be like after you, barely remembering what it had been before you. To willingly walk away from this, from you in his arms, from your shared intimacy, from the unbreakable bond the two of you had formed over two decades... he had to be insane. Yet he had no choice, as the past few weeks had shown. All Ben could do was rub a comforting hand on your back as you cried, murmuring sweet nothings in an effort to alleviate the excruciating pain he knew you were feeling as well.

Finally, he spoke. "I'm going to miss you more, Y/N. And I'm so sorry. I never wanted it to end like this. I never wanted it to end at all, actually."

Feeling another kiss at the top of your head, you lifted your head to look him in the eyes. You were no longer sobbing, just sniffling as tears ran down your face. "Me neither," you choked out, eyes still on him. You wanted to take in as much of him as you could before he left. You wanted his face burned into your mind forever, leaving a permanent mark you could never get rid of.

As you sniffled again, you felt him pull you into his chest, hearing him say softly, "It's going to be alright, darling." He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, pulling you back again to look you in the eyes. He then followed a delicate trail, pressing soft kisses between your furrowed brows, on the tip of your nose, and along the tear-streaked canvas of your cheeks. Then, hesitantly, he reached your lips.

His eyes were intense, heavy with emotion, as you felt his lips hovering above yours. You had never been kissed before, but you would so easily forgo social norms if he just closed the distance between you. You were inches apart, breath intermingling, eyes boring into each other. You could feel the palpable electricity between you, a mix of fear and familiarity. In that suspended moment, your heart beating with his, anticipation hung thick in the air. You were about to cross a precipice of intimacy you never had before, finally acting on the pressure that had been building for years. You wanted him so badly, and you could tell he wanted you, too. At least right now. Desire was running through you in a way it never had before, and you wondered whether the sort of itch you were feeling right now was the same one Ben talked about when he explained the night of the marriage. Is this the itch that would be scratched? You understood what he meant now, needing him so desperately to touch his lips to yours, to bring you the relief you sought in him. Benedict moved a fraction of an inch closer to you, and you drew your breath in anticipation, lips forming into a smile.

Yet suddenly, Benedict groaned and abruptly withdrew as if an unseen force compelled him to sever the burgeoning connection. Pushing you away in more senses than one, he roughly rubbed his face with his hands. You could tell he was in a state of complete panic. Hurt and confused, you watched him rub his eyes frustratedly, refusing to meet your gaze.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry," he stammered, a haunted look in his eyes betraying the fear of losing all the meticulously constructed defenses he had placed between you. "I don't know what came over me. That was so not right. I just—" His words stumbled, a confession hanging unspoken in the charged air between you.

You couldn't stop yourself from flinching, understanding the implications of his words. You supposed it should never have been like this. The two of you were best friends, after all. But you were desperate for him to look at you and give away some of what he was thinking, needing any sort of reassurance, so you reached out, softly gripping his bicep. "It's alright, Ben. I know you didn't—"

But he cut you off, his head shaking in fervent denial, avoiding your pleading eyes. "No, it's not. I'm sorry. Look, I should go; I still need to finish packing. But I'll come by early tomorrow morning to say goodbye if you're awake."

Without granting you a lingering look, he turned away, leaving you alone in the garden where you had played together as children, where your friendship had once blossomed. Tears ran unobstructed down your cheeks, and your heart broke cleanly in two.

---

You found yourself promenading alongside Mr Henri Deschamps in Hyde Park once again, politely nodding every time he looked to you for reassurance that his talk about hunting was not, in fact, the most boring thing you had ever heard in your life. And it wasn't, but you were inclined to think that it was pretty close. Nevertheless, you liked Mr Deschamps more than most other suitors, enjoying the philosophical debates the two of you would sometimes engage in.

Henri was from France but had come to England with his younger sister to see her married off last season. Although he was successful in this endeavor, he liked England so much that he chose to stay and find a wife for himself. Still, you were a tad fearful that Henri would want to return to France when, and if, the two of you were married. He had been courting you for a short time, only a couple of weeks. Still, you were careful in expressing your desire and taking it slow, despite thinking that you would probably end up marrying him if all kept going the same way it was now.

All things considered, Mr Deschamps was an adequate match for you. He was intellectually stimulating at times, came from a good background to be able to provide for you, and he wasn't bad-looking either. Besides, his accent was fun to listen to even when his words were not. It had been nearly three weeks since Benedict had left for the country, and though you missed him terribly, you were having a much easier time actually thinking of your suitors as potential husbands instead of fun ways to pass time before you spoke to Ben next.

Hearing Henri mention something related to a book you were currently reading, you perked up, excited. "Actually, I read that—" you started, only to be interrupted by the man at your side.

"Ah, of course, you read this, you read that. When does it stop, Miss Beaumont? You are always reading something. Men do not want this. We want an obedient wife who will not cause us any more stress than we have in life. We want a wife who will give us heirs quickly and who will listen to what we say," came Mr Deschamps' interjection. You were stunned, frozen in your spot, but he grabbed your arm and continued speaking as he dragged you with him.

"Men do not want a woman who is smarter than them, Miss Beaumont. How about you stick to your good qualities, oui? You are very beautiful, but no one will ever marry you if you keep discussing books. No one wants to hear about books," he finished, sending you a pointed look.

You could barely believe what you were hearing. "But—," you tried, only to be interrupted by Mr Deschamps once again.

"But— But— But—," he mocked cruelly. "But nothing, Miss Beaumont. This is the truth, yet you still argue with me. It is the same in France as it is here: women should not argue with men. You would do well to remember that."

You wrenched your arm out of his grasp, appalled by his egregious behavior. He rolled his eyes at your reaction, turning around and throwing his hands up in the air, clearly exasperated. You angrily stared after him as your mother, who had been walking a few paces behind the two of you, caught up.

"What in the world was that? I cannot believe he spoke to you in such a disrespectful manner and in front of everyone, at that," she exclaimed, fuming. Clearly, she had heard at least some of your conversation. You could only shake your head in disbelief, still reeling from Henri's sudden outburst. He had effectively squashed your hopes of ever finding an appropriate husband in under three minutes. It would have been impressive if it didn't leave you so hopeless.

---

Far from the hubbub of the city, Benedict lay in his messy bed, staring at the now-empty spot beside him, illuminated by the moonlight filtering through his half-open curtains. With ever-deepening bags under his eyes and a dwindling excitement about life, he grappled with a reality he never thought he would confront. The echoes of your shared dreams from your youthful days mocked him, a poignant reminder of a time when marriage felt like a distant concept.

This had become somewhat of a routine by now. Benedict had taken to finding solace in the arms of various women, seeking momentary distraction from the ache in his heart. With each encounter, it became glaringly evident that physical intimacy offered no relief from the unending yearning he felt for you and your friendship, forever changed by his choices.

Loneliness enveloped him each time the women left, a feeling he had become all too familiar with in the past few weeks. He barely slept, opting instead to imagine your life back in the city, full of exciting balls and surrounded by the warmth of your family. And his, he supposed. But most of all, he couldn't help the painful thoughts of you with another man, discussing your favorite books, or forming inside jokes with one another.

He was comforted only by the fact that he had not yet received a wedding invitation. Surely Benedict would have been invited to the momentous occasion had you finally found someone to spend forever with. However, the comfort he felt from this was significantly overshadowed by the implications of your inevitable wedding. One last goodbye. A proper goodbye, this time. Here, in the countryside, he could theoretically return to you anytime. But once you were married, you would be gone forever, and the wanting he felt now would only multiply, consuming him entirely.

In the quiet hours before dawn, he often wondered if the past could be revisited, a past where the two of you made plans to get married. The idea of a marriage where he was free to pursue his artistic endeavors and you continued your literary pursuits lingered in his thoughts every single night. It seemed that he was only interested in marriage if it was an arrangement similar to the one you had dreamt up as children, and the chances of attaining that were slim to none. Benedict found himself yearning for a simplicity that had been lost in the complexities of adulthood. With you married off, he would have to find a wife eventually. But perhaps he did not want to marry at all. Maybe he would stay a bachelor, making vows to his art rather than a woman he knew could never compare to you.

For now, he continued his escapades. In the long run, he was not confident that this would help him forget you or forget the fierce love you inspired in him, but he was desperate for any way to stop thinking about you, if only for a few hours. So he indulged, going to raucous gatherings, mainly populated by artists. People used their canvases at these parties as a means of liberation, but he only used them to mask his true feelings. He could momentarily quiet his mind, painting and dancing and drinking before he eventually came crashing down to reality.

—

previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!): @bellahadidnt16 @like-gabriel-and-castiel @riverraingrayworld

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bidisastersanji · 5 months

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Circus One Piece AU with sword swallower/knife thrower Zoro and tightrope walker/aerial act Sanji please and thank you

They (and the rest of the crew) grew up in the « Thousand Sunny » circus together:

Sanji’s adoptive dad, Zeff, is the circus cook who always tells a different, wild story about how he lost his leg (it often involves a lion, even though the circus doesn’t use animals in its show, despite its lion logo)

Zoro’s parents both died in an accident when he was young and his relatives (Shimotsuki) took him in. His childhood friend Kuina had an accident and is now a wheelchair user- she handles the circus social media and marketing with Nami

They both have had crushes on each other for years but don’t dare to fo anything because not only what if the other feels the same but what if it doesn’t work out and they have to leave their circus family- so instead they keep bickering and pigtail pulling

I think it’s common for circus performers to have many abilities but specializing in certain things so let’s just assume most of them are good at basic acrobatic/circus things

Sanji is an aerial artist (aerial silks, hoops etc) and tightrope walker and Zoro is good at sword swallowing, stage combat and knife throwing

A lot of the crew are orphans who were adopted into the circus family from many countries the circus has passed through, so they have little accents and have the best time celebrating everyone’s different traditions and holidays

Usopp is a magician, Vivi does diabolo, Franky a strongman, Robin does Trapeze, Luffy is known for his contortionist act but also does some clowning, Ace and Sabo do fire performances, Brook is their communal grandpa in charge of music, Jinbei is the cool dependable uncle in charge of setting everything up to regulation and navigating their caravan where Nami tells them to go

Although she does Chinese pole, Nami is growing up to be the person who’ll take over the circus management/strategy- she wants them to make bank and strategizes on what acts they do, innovative acts and staging they can do etc

Luffy’s dream is for their circus to be the best in the world - they’re already going around different countries but he wants a full international tour, eager to take over after his grandpa (ringmaster) passes it on to him

Chopper is the adoptive son of the troupe doctor (Kureha) who does some equestrian tricks (voltige) but mostly studies hard to be a doctor too. He’s still a kid but everyone is else is an adult

Sanji often gets really distracted by Zoro during practice times- their outfits are revealing and he’s so buff and like what else can he do with his mouth goddamn

He only once called Zoro a « sword swallower » when he was a (still closeted) teen to try and bully his friend/rival but Zoro just grinned at him and said « proudly » and Sanji almost died from that mental image and never used that insult again (he might have gotten a nosebleed)

Naturally Zoro is also dumbstruck by Sanji’s beauty and grace on the regular- and he often gets in trouble for watching Sanji’s act and almost missing cues

The gang always gets into so many shenanigans in every new city they travel to and they love each other so dearly

One day a video of Zoro practicing goes viral (because he’s hot and talented) and Sanji is definitely not responsible for a few dozen views on that video

Zoro always gets a little jealous and annoyed when he finds Sanji flirting with local girls

And that’s all the ideas I have for now! Please feel free to add to this!! I’d love to see what you guys would be fun to have in the circus AU

#zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fic idea #zosan au #one piece au #circus one piece au #one piece zosan #circus zosan au #aerialist!sanji

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the-desilittle-bird · 11 months

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AN- Another preference guys!!! Also, I have an angsty Daemon oneshot based on Tere Liye song in my drafts...

Requests are always open and well appreciated.

Thank you and Enjoy your reading!

HOTD Preference

Being in an Arranged Marriage

Characters- Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark & Criston Cole

Warnings- Westrosi Shenanigans

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are an honorable lady of one of the Great Houses of Westeros. And after Lady Rhea Royce dies mysteriously, your father plotted to marry you into a marriage with the Rogue Prince.

You had met him a few times earlier, and you were less than impressed with his... antics.

You swore you would have ran if you weren't devoted to your father and his life's work in order to make a beautiful legacy for your family (sounds Lannister-ish).

You had controlled the urge to laugh during the entirety of the feast hosted to honour your betrothal with the prince.

Daemon's face resembled that of a pouty kid who was denied something he needed. While on the other hand, Viserys was gleaming with happiness as he congratulated the "beautiful pair".

The wedding was lavish, much to both your and your husband's dismay. And while you covered your dismay with grace; his remained bad.

He was partially dragged to the sept by his brother.

Marriage with him can go two ways.

Either you become another bronze bitch for him.

Or you impress him with your charms and he ends up being completely enamored by you.

If you try to reject his advances; he will never quit making them.

And when you accept his devotion, he will be the happiest man in Westeros.

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

He marries you on his mother's demand.

Very formal and stoic. Will reward you with only a hand on your back in extreme situations.

Aegon teasing him about the upcoming bedding after your wedding.

Also offering you an opportunity to approach him if Aemond doesn't suffices you.

"My lady, you know where to find me if my brother can't suffice your womanly desires in bed."

You in reply, had smiled sarcastically and said, "it won't be required."

The boy's ego was wounded.

While Aemond was downright impressed by your courage.

It starts slow with him.

And takes a loooooong while before he shows you his left eye; bared of the eyepatch he wears.

You had a hard start; worse than that of possible.

But he starts seeing you as family after Helaena softens up with you and you spend time with his niece and nephew. Alicent also likes you.

He would never compliment you directly or profess his love in words. But his actions speak louder than anything else.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

You are his second wife. And not really a recipient of his love and care.

Purely political marriage with both your and his house benefiting in some way; all while you were being prepared to be a man's second wife.

You learnt quickly how you shall always been seen as a shadow of his wife. And you were actually happy with it.

Both of you shall perform your duties to one another, but that would be it.

No speaking until necessary.

His children not liking you at first; but once you start to open up with them, they come to tolerate your presence.

The first real conversation you two have is after you find Alicent crying in her room, reminiscing the happy family they used to be before her mother perished.

You had barged into his office, demanding to know when was the last time he spoke to his daughter.

And you fought for hours. Until you broke down into tears as your patience ran thin.

"YOU DO NOT CARE OF ANYONE AROUND YOU, BUT YOURSELF! Not Alicent, not your sons, not the king... not me."

He saw you in new light that day. Someone who was ready to fight for his family.

And he starts engaging you in conversations at feast.

And honestly, you like it. Being noticed by your husband who only saw you as a trophy before.

Corlys ‘Sea Snake’ Velaryon

Your father was the most important merchant in Essos; and you were his precious little daughter.

You met Corlys for the first time after his negotiations with your father.

When your father tells you that you shall be married to the Sea Snake to assure the new alliance’s birth and growth.

You were extremely angry. And hurt.

Your marriage to him was anything but modest; and took place in Driftmark.

You could feel the unease radiating off the lords and the King as they congratulated you and your new husband.

Unfortunate for you, your father skipped the part of him being a widower and having kids close to your age.

And you were furious. Very. Very. Furious.

You kicked and screamed; creating a scene behind the closed doors while your new family and your family was present.

Tensed with anger and disappointment burning deep in your chest, you find yourself roaming the beach as the sun raced towards the horizon.

You hadn't expected the man, your new husband, to come for you. But he did.

And you talked, deciding a few terms for easy marriage life.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

You were from the West; betrothed to him after his first wife passes during childbirth, leaving him with a son, alone.

And so, your father decides that you should become his second wife and mother to his barely a year old son.

Your betrothal is officiated on letters. No formal meeting. No courting.

You were sent to the North before a fortnight from your wedding.

You arrived to be greeted by Sara Snow, since you cannot see Cregan before your wedding, as per traditions.

You have a wedding in the customs of North.

And then a smaller wedding with only close people around in the small Sept in Winterfell, where you are wedded in your traditions.

The feast following was loud and warm with wine flowing the cups and fire blazing in the backdrop.

When you were asked to share your first dance as a couple, your very first dance anyway; you hesitated as you accompanied him.

But everything went very very smoothly.

And then was the time of bedding ceremony. And Gods! Were you overjoyed when Cregan defended your honor and downright canceled the ceremony.

"Anyone who shall dare touch my bride shall spend his life without any further children. I and my wife are perfectly able to find our way to our chambers."

That night, there was no bedding. But you spent the time conversing while Rickon Stark slept against your bosom, peacefully.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

Since he is the part of King's Guard, he can't marry anyone. But after he takes on the position of Hand of the King to King Aegon II and Prince Regent Aemond, that's a different story.

He arrives at your father's holdstead with a handwritten letter from the Queen Dowager Alicent, asking for your father's allegiance to the Greens.

But your father was no fool.

You were his eldest; first of the four sisters.

And so, he asks for a betrothal in exchange.

But with Aegon already married and Aemond betrothed to marry and Daeron too young for you, he asks Criston to marry you.

And with his undying loyalty to Alicent and Greens, he does.

The ceremony is small and not flashing, with only Aemond and your family present.

There was no feast. Just a close dinner between family.

You were scared... terrified actually.

But the Hand of the King reassured you that he will do nothing you don't wish for, and instead of consummating the marriage, he falls asleep; on the floor.

And you realize that maybe, he isn't as bad as you have heard of him.

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon preferences #hotd preferences #daemon targaryen headcanon #aemond targaryen headcanons #otto hightower x reader #corlys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #cregan stark x reader #criston cole x reader #house targaryen #hotd headcanon

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iheartmysun · 6 months

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Miss The Mistletoe (George Weasley x Reader)

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

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Warnings: some kissing, maybe a tiny bit suggestive

Word count: 1.1k

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

As morning grew into day, the worn windows of the burrow began to fog. Condensation formed as the crisp air of the Christmas season met the warmth of indoors, which you were sure was caused by the love that seemed to naturally seep from its walls.

Wiping the window with the sleeve of the jumper that Mrs. Weasley had made just for you, you stared out into the snow. Snowflakes made their way down from the sky with delicacy. As your focus stayed transfixed on their graceful journey to the ground, George had his sights set elsewhere.

"Isn't it beautiful?" you questioned softly, wiping the glass now and then to keep the view clear for the both of you. He simply hummed in response. The ginger-haired man didn't at all look that interested in the snow at that moment. He just leaned on his arm and picked at the chipped jamb liner, hoping that if he looked at you long enough, you could share glances.

After what felt like a lifetime of longing for your attention, you finally tore your eyes away from the snow and turned your curiosity to your freckled-faced boyfriend who sat beside you.

George donned puppy dog eyes and a pout once you faced him. He hopelessly tried to not break out into a smile as you looked down at him, but he knew that it was of no use.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his sweet behaviour. "What's the matter, handsome? Hmm?" you asked quietly, gently tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ear as he gazed up at you.

He let out a dramatic groan and moved from leaning on the couch to flopping into your lap. Partially to be closer to you, partially to hide the fact that his cheeks had flushed at your touch.

"I just can't believe that you've missed them all." he said with a defeated sigh, fiddling with the fabric of the knitted wool that you wore. You furrowed your brows slightly. "What do you mean, Georgie?" you asked in a somewhat confused tone, smoothing down his soft hair as he pressed his face to your thigh.

He sighed once more, almost exasperated, and rolled onto his back. "Just look!" he said pointing weakly toward the ceiling. Following the direction of his pointer finger, you saw mistletoe hanging just behind you. And another that was hanging over a single-person seat, and in the archway to the kitchen, and some that hung above the dining table, just barely out of sight from where you sat.

You felt laughter bubbling in your chest, the days' shenanigans now making a lot more sense. "So that's why you kept on trying to drag me around all day?" You asked with a smirk, amused by his failed efforts. "What can I say? You're irresistible." He remarked brazenly, a shameless grin now spread across his lips.

You felt your face grow warm at the situation and shook your head slightly as a small laugh escaped you. "You could have just asked me." He laughed softly in return and smiled up at you, a warm glint in his eyes. "But I really wanted to kiss you under the mistletoe, though. It's like the best part of Christmas." He said with a somewhat shy and crooked grin.

You giggled lightly at his words. All of this effort just so that he could kiss you was in character for George. Ever the romantic, no matter how small the gesture may be. He's always wanting to go the extra mile for you.

"The best part of Christmas, you say?" you questioned cheekily, quirking a brow as a smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth. "Oh, most definitely! No doubt about it." he answered, nodding his head definitively.

Smirking at this response, you slid yourself backward to move further down the couch. George frowned as his head suddenly dropped because of the action. As he was about to exaggeratedly reason that he was now experiencing the utmost discomfort, he saw the ceiling, and then the expression that you wore on your perfect face.

He quickly flipped himself onto his stomach with a crazed grin and crawled up to reach you.

He pushed himself up to not lay all of his weight on you and snaked his hand up to rest his palm against your face. George looked at you with a deep adoration, his grin growing smaller as he settled.

He lightly grazed his thumb against your cheek and brought his face closer to yours. A small giggle fell from his mouth while taking in your features. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered lovingly, a hint of playfulness hiding in the details of his face.

Without a word, you nodded, and slowly pushed your fingers into his hair. After gaining the permission that he had asked for, he pressed his lips to yours with a tender familiarity. Soft and slow. You could taste remnants of the sweets that he had earlier in the day, the sugary flavours mixed in with the smell of his cologne, pulling you further into the sensation of his lips moving easily against yours.

You could feel the dopey smile on his face as he held you closer. The warmth of his flushed cheeks radiated against your skin along with the heat of the fireplace, shadows flickering across the room and dancing in his fiery hair.

As you grew warmer you became rather aware of where you were. Not wanting his family walking in on the both of you kissing maybe a bit too intimately, you reluctantly pulled away, earning a groan from George.

He tugged on your jumper to try and steal one more kiss, but only managed to plant an innocent peck. "We're still under the mistletoe y'know. We should still be kissing." he argued light-heartedly. "Oh, come on," you reasoned with a smile. "I don't want your siblings walking in on us like this. Or worse, your mum."

George internally shuddered at the thought. Although he was grown and could kiss you as much as he pleased, he didn't need his mum seeing him lay on top of you like this in the shared living room. He sighed dejectedly and gave a quick nod. "Yeah, alright."

He laid his head on your chest and breathed deeply, inhaling your scent as he clung to you. He almost looked childlike like this. His hair splayed slightly across your jumper as he curled himself into a ball. Or at least he tried to.

You carefully twirled his hair around your fingers, watching as his chest slowly rose and fell. He was gorgeous. Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to the top of his head and whispered in his ear. "Merry Christmas, Georgie."

He turned his head upwards to meet your gaze, an obvious pink tinge washing over his cheeks, a coy smile greeting you as he spoke. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

#george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #christmas fic

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alittlebirb · 2 years

Text

Some incomprehensible choices of fate from the MCC 25 Pink Parrots!

Wilbur streaming from a warehouse loading bay. The acoustics in the loading bay are atrocious. He lives here now.

The skins! Socket eyes for everyone! They look adorable! (aside from Wilbur)

"Your accent is silly." -Wilbur to Scott, preceding a straight up 30 second long argument over how to pronounce "Grian"

"You are a ridiculous gentleman." -Wilbur

Connor joining to sports vet the players and make sure Scott isn't cheating

Wilbur proposing Connor bet money on him placing 40th

"Are you going to be weak to my shenanigans?" -Wilbur after Grian tells him he's "a tired boy", followed by ABSOLUTE GLEE when Grian elaborates that he might cross the threshold to "silly tired"

Scott asking if looking at Punz in a crop top would push him over the threshold, and Grian snapping back "I think that would wake me up."

"He's always right-back-ing, that guy." -Wilbur about Grian

Wilbur deciding not to vote because "you can't force fate", and Scott and Grian threateningly surrounding him with their vacant socket eyes

"The downfall of humanity happened when we decided we should be influenced by the things we create!" -Wilbur, going on an unhinged yet beautiful rant about THE SYSTEM and EGGS

"I'm going to be the healer, because I'm gay." -Scott

"That's not true! I play healer in WOW all the time, and I'm straight!" -Wilbur

"Wilbur, I'm sorry to break it you, but..." -Scott

"Battle Box makes me feel like I'm always being picked last on the dodgebolt team." -Wilbur

Wilbur SCREECHING "Jojosolos!" in the shrillest possible voice before being BODIED by her

Desertduo...fighting...this feels so wrong...

Grian killing Pete and wondering if he'll be proud of him

Wilbur talking about DND and Grian mentioning how he played once, and was never invited back

Wilbur then inviting him to play with him and Scott, completely undeterred with the warning that he's an "absolute menace"

"I can't nap, I don't like naps." -Scott

"You've never had a good nap, then." -Phil

Wilbur having an internal crisis over having to fight his dear, beloved Ranboo

"Maybe I need to play MCC from liminal places more often!" -Wilbur

"There, by the grace of god, goes Grian!" -Wilbur

Wilbur talking about how he used to have. just Grian. as his skin

WEIRD DUNK.

Wilbur walking up to Scott, and very seriously asking if he's ever played Club Penguin

"You just want to be Mr. Beast in Minecraft." -Phil

"I want to be Mr. Rock Hopper!" -Wilbur

Wilbur going between his Nook and Cranny in the MD waiting room

"I may have fell asleep." -Grian after the whole team got wiped 10 seconds in

Grian calling Wilbur's tones "dulcet", Wilbur buffering on the definition for a second, and then remembering he used that word in a song

Scott finishing 40th to Grian's 39th, and Grian considering "maybe he doesn't cheat..."

Phil singing a little song about following Scott as he follows Scott

"I'm sad, the sea's too cold to swim now." -Wilbur

Him and Phil arguing over whether he should wear a wetsuit instead

Them making plans to play Raft in real life, and Scott assisting by saying he'll release The Shark (Sharkie Evans) ((we love her))

"Ay Grian, are you awake?" -Wilbur

"Uh." -Grian

Scar's team being their downfall twice throughout the rounds

"I've had a club sandwich, and it's not sitting right." -Wilbur

Grian asking what a club sandwich is, and Wilbur delightedly explaining it to him

Grian NOT being sold on the idea that a club sandwich could be better than a jam sandwich

"This is Green's game. Scar's going to tell me later how proud he is." -Grian

Scott saying he counts his coins meticulously every night, and Grian adding he gives them a lil kiss and tucks them into bed

Grian and Wilbur lamenting over not getting the ~fabulous~ pride coin, with Grian talking about how he sometimes wake up "in a cold sweat" thinking about it

"The gays stay winning! We might have the same rights as everyone else, but we do have a SICK coin!" -Scott

Grian asking Phil to get high for him in GR, and both Phil and Wilbur being VERY down for that

Wilbur crying out that the chickens aren't beasts, they're friends!

The builders absolutely wrecking shop during the Beach Bridge room

Wilbur and Grian planning out his bedtime routine to kick in during the break

Wilbur and Scott arguing over whether it's cocky for him to say people will be sad when he dies, beginning a minutes-long discussion over the circumstances of his death

Wilbur dubbing Phil Team Captain ten seconds before SG starts

"Phil, you are H&M. You've just equipped me." -Wilbur

Phil having to shop around the map in order to find shoes his size

Wilbur proposing that they have an MCC where everyone's parents play, and Grian calling him out that he just wants to meet Grian's mother

Grian taking a nap during the break and leaving his chat in the fumbling? capable? hands of Wilbur

Wilbur becoming even more incomprehensible during this period, and Grian coming back with the most disappointed "I trusted you."

Wilbur trying to encourage free thinking in the chat after an era of Dream and Tommy supremacy

Wilbur desperately attempting to shoo off the swarm of fans that joined during AR because "the bit is over, man!"

Wilbur just. continuing this fight with his chat over AR the entire way through

"I can't let Tim beat me." -Grian

Grian frustratedly saying he's angy tired now, and Wilbur going into an excruciating bit of baby talking through a scenario of giving Grian milk, comfort, and NOT rice cakes (that'll keep him up all night)

Wilbur telling Grian to talk as rapidly as he could in order to enter silly mode, allowing us to learn that Grian's favorite animal is the seal and his least favorite color is Wilbur's shirt

"Me when. Don't ask me about the antithesis of yeah." -Wilbur when he dies in HITW

Scott and Wilbur talking about "intimate stories" they talked about in private

"Grian and I's DMs are not filled with explicit material." -Wilbur (why)

"That you know of." -GRIAN??????

Phil swearing during the last round and Grian saying that he racked up 2 so far (he's been keeping tabs)

Scott and Wilbur talking about "smooth" and "crunchy" colors

Wilbur going on ANOTHER rant about the nature of the universe, and how they are the universe-, and Grian just defeaning

Phil's chat continuously in agony over Wilbur "Wilburing"

"It's when you wave your hands like you're explaining something, but sped up." -Phil

"I think I might come dead last this time. Sleep's important guys." -Grian during TGTTOS

Wilbur and Phil discovering that the chicken is a drone in the decision dome map

Wilbur getting one half of a Swear Point for saying "Fu-!"

Phil ranting desperately in justification over his decision to punch Scar off

"It's punch or be punched in this world!" -Phil

Allll the betrayal during the Shallow Lava map

Wilbur sharing a story about how one time, when he was a kid, a teacher said he was "too creative"

The ABSOLUTE SIN of PKT being chosen over SOT. Someone will pay for this.

Grian and Phil going into a horrendous bit about Wilbur peeing all over the warehouse in order to assert his dominance over his territory

"Did I wash my hands? No I didn't. No I didn't chat." -Wilbur

The ongoing theme of LET FATE DECIDE continuing in their decision to let the game choose the hunter in PKT

Phil screaming in increasingly high decibels as he narrowly escapes death over and over again

Wilbur patenting the Phil Claws™

Grian now owing Wilbur a non-tired game, as he once fell asleep during his Wilburing

Wilbur saying he can take a nap during DB, there's nothing keeping him here, and Grian hitting him with the cute curveball of "you're here! :D"

Wilbur's chat spamming "hot guy" and him confusedly asking about it

"Scar's a hot guy." -Grian

Grian asking Wilbur to commentate this like a golf game, and him obliging in his own Wilbur way

Lizzie and Scott actively cheering against Joel

Things getting UNHINGED. THERE'S A KEYBOARD SALESMAN NOW?? WHAT???

GREEN WINS! THE TRUE ENDING!!

Wilbur and Scott fighting over whether he gets McDonald's

Pink Parrots finished MCC 25 in 10th place!

#mcc #mcc 25 #wilbur soot #philza #grian #smajor1995 #birb's mcc recaps #us socket duo enjoyers were EATING WELL TODAY #the philza and grian and scott interactions were also excellent #I cannot stress enough how downright chaotic they got near the end there #Hope everyone had a great MCC though!#I am aware that Wilbur was not in a loading bay. I do however think it's very funny to act like he really committed to the bit that hard #(all Wilbur soot does is eat sponge cake and lie)

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lythevoidwitch · 13 days

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I am a simple woman.

If I see SVSSS content, I will like, I will follow, and I will open another tab to read every fanfiction recommendation. (Even though I shouldn't with my 64 open tabs right now. 27 of which are ongoing ff as I patiently wait for more chapters to be released.)

That's not all though.

I'm considering getting back into writing some fanfiction for my current addiction. I have a few ideas, but I would love to hear your favorite ship, crackship, headcanons and so forth!

I'm heavily debating on a few fic ideas:

SY and SJ shenanigans : Disciples? Estranged Siblings? (LBH Sobbing in the bg)

SY as a rogue cultivator, successfully avoiding LBH for most of the plot. (Switch between LBH and SY pov?)

Modern SVSSS, College!! (SJ the prettiest and pettiest of college professors, he doesn't get paid enough for this. Why is his student flirting with him? Why is his student flirting with his brother? SJ might consider homicide as justifiable.)

Modern SVSSS, SY and SQH wake up from their strange dream. Find out Cucumber and Airplane know each other in rl. Ensue chaotic best friend behavior. (In the bg cue, MBJ and LBH handling this with nothing but poise and grace. I'm lying. They're doing the exact opposite. Don't worry, I'm not a monster. LBH and MBJ find their wives, eventually, probably.)

Modern Cultivators! SY and SJ didn't think they would ever run into an actual demon, demons are rare these days. They often face ghosts and spirits. Cue SY accidently waking up a good old Blackened/Sealed Lou Bing-ge. Cue (dun dun duhhh) chaos.

Demon SY? Cultivator SY? Dunno yet, SY in the Abyss. (I read an unfinished fic about SY in the abyss, and I'm obsessed with the idea of SY just absolutely trying to get LBG to speedrun the Abyss, and LBG deciding "Nuh. I'm staying here, with you". I was also considering entire Abyss ancient civilizations because I'm unhinged, and the idea of what used to be sprawling demonic kingdoms in the abyss is beautiful.)

Have you ever accidently married the emperor of the 3 realms? SY did. Now, SJ has to ask YQ for help to save his brother. (Subsequently: You ever accidently end up with a husband? LBG was surprised, too, but he has a system, a way these things work. Just because SY is a man doesn't change anything. LBH now has to make sure his frail husband doesn't die and doesn't get kidnapped by pesky cultivators.) Three povs???? SJ (trying to save his brother and getting pettier by the minute), LBG (thwarting SJ's plans, spying on his husband, general court affiar), SY (fangirling over everything, getting himself into trouble, falling into every wife plot under the sun).

These are just some ideas, some of my favorites that I've been clinging to. Free game, take em, write em if you want. The more fanfiction and content we have, the better!

I've rambled. Oh god. Lemme know your favorite, I'll probably boost it to the front of my list.

#mxtx svsss #svsss #help i have an addiction to fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #lou binghe #crack fic #rambles #help i have no idea what i'm doing #back into the void i go

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bruhstories · 2 years

Text

perfectly imperfect

summary: otto hightower gathers more allies in support of his nephew after the destruction of the dragonpit. y/n reyne, lady of castamere, offers her hand in marriage to aemond targaryen to secure the safety of her land and people.

pairing: aemond targaryen x reyne!fem!reader (aged up)

warnings & content: canon-divergent, graphic descriptions of violence, aegon makes fun of disabilities, aegon is a dick to women, typical asoiaf shenanigans, unprotected sex, p in v, loss of virginity, fem bodied reader

wc: ~3.7k

a/n: listen, i did not plan on simping for aemond, okay? i was actually planning a daemon fic but i got carried away. also, there are NO spoilers for episode 10. i know it got leaked, i haven't watched it yet.

It seemed as if Aegon had won a trophy in Helaena when compared to Aemond's betrothed. He had complained about his sister-wife when he was a child, complained that she wasn't beautiful enough, that she was strange, with her fascination for insects, particularly spiders. Aegon could not fathom why his wife was drawn to such peculiar practices, but part of him was grateful he ended up marrying Helaena and not Y/N Reyne.

Aemond, on the other hand, made no verbal complaints about his soon-to-be wife. He had always obeyed his mother's rules, and he knew his marriage to the Lady of Castamere was nothing but political — an alliance with a powerful and rich family would only benefit in supporting Aegon's claim to the throne. All he had to do was put an heir in Y/N and secure his Targaryen lineage. He didn't have to love her, but he would respect her.

After the destruction of the Dragon Pit, Otto knew he had to act swiftly, asking lords and ladies all around Westeros for their support. It was Y/N Reyne who offered her own hand in marriage in exchange for the protection of her lands and people, and Otto and Alicent agreed. A small price to pay for the riches of Castamere. With her silver and gold, they could fund soldiers for the impending war between the Blacks and the Greens.

Not long after Aegon's coronation, Y/N Reyne travelled to King's Landing for a quick wedding. There was no time for feasts and parties, there was no time for her to get to know her husband — she wanted her people safe, and Otto wanted supporters.

The Lady of Castamere arrived at the Red Keep on horseback with a promised 200 soldiers, chests of gold, silver and rubies. Greeted by the king himself, Y/N bowed down, offering Aegon a dagger encrusted with small rubies on its silver handle.

"It's not Valyrian steel, your grace, but it was made by my finest blacksmiths." She removed the hood of her cloak, exposing a scar that went from her cheek, down her neck, the rest hidden behind her chest plate.

Aegon scrunched his nose at the sight of her scar, but the look of disgust came after she removed her leather gloves, revealing a missing ring finger on her right hand.

"You'll make a fine wife for my brother." The king sneered, and Alicent smiled. Finally, her son was speaking like a true royal. "Seeing as you're both cripples." Aegon laughed, toying with the dagger in his hand, bored and perhaps drunk.

Y/N pursed her lips. It took a lot of willpower not to bark back at him. She had sworn her loyalty to him, after all.

"I see your grace has a sense of humour." The Lady of Castamere smiled, the scar more visible when her cheeks puffed up.

It made Aegon's stomach churn to see a flawed woman. At least Helaena tried to look feminine, dressed in the finest of silks and wearing the most expensive jewellery, like a true queen. Yet Y/N was boyish, wearing metal plates and leather trousers. In the king's mind, she should've been in a carriage, not on a horse. She should've worn a dress, not an armour. She should've let her hair flow, not wear it in a plait.

The silence in the Red Keep was deafening, until Alicent offered to take Y/N to her chambers and Otto ordered Ser Criston Cole to take the westerlands soldiers to the East Barracks. The Lady of Castamere was taken aback when Alicent had asked her about her wedding dress, as Y/N had not brought one.

"I assumed it would be a quick wedding." She shrugged.

"I understand, but the king would not like it if you came to your own wedding wearing... that." Alicent sighed, exhausted by Aegon's shenanigans. "Come, we'll find something in Helaena's chambers."

All of the queen's dresses were beautiful, most of them silver or gold, but they did not fit Y/N. Her frame was quite athletic, as the scar on her skin was won in battle, and she was much taller, making the dresses look like they were tossed on a fence, not worn by a woman.

"My lady, I am truly sorry-"

"No, it's fine." Alicent chewed on her lower lip, an idea creeping in her mind. Y/N could wear one of Rhaenyra's old dresses, preferably one that wasn't black. In a bitter twist of fate, Rhaenyra's clothes did fit Y/N, and it only made Alicent more conflicted about her friendship, about everything that was happening.

It was overwhelming to see her son's future wife wearing her best friend's clothes. In the dusty golden dress and her hair in a braid, Y/N reminded Alicent of the day she had asked Rhaenyra about her and Daemon, a day that changed the course of everyone's lives. Who knew back then that their friendship would turn into animosity?

"My lady? Is something the matter?" Y/N took Alicent's hand in hers.

"No. No, you look perfect. Please, I have one last request." She smiled, but there was so much sadness hidden behind that smile.

"Of course."

"Untie your hair. Let it flow down your back. Just for tonight. After your wedding you may do with it as you please."

It was a strange request, but Y/N did not dare question it. She untied the bow holding her hair in place, running her fingers through her locks. Satisfied, Alicent hurried her out of Rhaenyra's chamber and into the Throne Room, where the king, the queen, the Hand, the High Septon, and Aemond waited.

That was the first time Y/N met her soon-to-be husband, the patch on his eye making him look both mysterious and menacing. She then understood what Aegon meant by cripple. Y/N bowed in front of the king and queen, taking her place to Aemond's right side. The younger Targaryen showed no emotion whatsoever at her presence, instead took her hands in his, listening to the Septon's prayers.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband." Y/N uttered her vows, noticing the disinterested look on Aegon's face.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife." Aemond did not hesitate snaking his fingers behind Y/N's ear, pulling her into a soft kiss, interrupted only by the king's own drunken chuckles, mixed with hiccups.

"You are now man and wife — one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The High Septon concluded, followed by dead silence.

Everyone knew what would happen next — consummation. Y/N was clever enough to know that she had to give Aemond an heir, but part of her hoped she would not be with child. She wanted to fight by her husband's side, not stay in the Red Keep or Castamere and raise children. Nevertheless, she was urged by Otto to follow Aemond in his chamber, and she reluctantly did.

To her surprise, her husband gently held her hand on the way up the stairs, and while she has been in battles, lost a finger, and had her face mutilated, the thought of losing her maidenhead made her feel sick. Before her mother died, she had prepared Y/N for the consummation of her marriage — how to seduce her husband, how to please him, what to say, where to touch him. It all seemed easy in theory, but putting it in practice was much, much harder.

There was a lump in her throat that she couldn't swallow, and although she felt cold, beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Y/N thought she knew fear, but nothing compared to this. It did not help that Aemond did not utter a single word after speaking his vows, and perhaps it was for the best. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel less anxious. When he began to remove his cloak and unbutton his doublet, Y/N froze.

"Wait." She finally spoke, and Aemond did wait. He wasn't necessarily impatient to consummate his marriage, unlike his brother who would fuck anything that had two legs and a pretty face. "Before we proceed, I have to say this."

"Go on." Aemond neatly folded his cloak, placing it on a wooden chair, the half-unbuttoned doublet exposing his chest.

"I'm a fighter, not a mother. I will gladly give you an heir, if that is what you desire, but I want to fight side by side with you, my lord husband." Y/N hurried to where he stood, stripping herself of her ego by pleading with him.

"Why?" There was a hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The only other person who shared Aemond's passion for violence was Ser Criston Cole. Not even his brother was seduced by violence, let alone a noblewoman.

"You are a dragon." She replied. "I am a lion. We are not meant to be kept as pets. You, out of everyone, must understand the thrill of the battle, especially when you fight for what you believe in." Y/N spotted the wine on the table and poured herself a cup, only to ease her mind — and her body.

"And what do you believe in, then?" Aemond watched her sloppily drink the wine, the red liquid spilling down her chin, down the crook of her neck, staining the dress of the woman he so much hated.

"Violence." The Lady of Castamere slammed the cup on the table, feeling herself a tad more courageous. "Pure, ecstatic violence."

It was quite clear that her mother's seducing techniques would not work on a man like Aemond, and they did not need to work, because Y/N's honesty completely enchanted him. To have someone share his passions was more than he could ask from a wife. Once, he was fascinated by, perhaps enamoured with Helaena, but she was soft, and had he married her and grown to love her, she would've softened him. Y/N, on the other hand, was the spark he needed to ignite the fire flowing in his veins. He was a dragon, after all.

"I do not desire an heir." Aemond admitted. He couldn't see himself a father, partly because his own father seemed to prefer his nephews instead of his sons. The fact that Y/N was not interested in being a mother only solidified his love for battle. "And I do not care if you give me one."

Aemond's words awakened something in Y/N, something she had never felt before. It most certainly wasn't love — she couldn't possibly love a man she had just met. It was something else. Lust.

"So, will you allow me to fight, then?" Her voice went up an octave, excited, like a child receiving a toy.

"Gladly. Tell me," Aemond decided to consummate the marriage by discussing their experiences in battle, "have you killed before?" He poured himself a cup of wine. The young Targaryen wasn't keen on drinking, like his brother, but he enjoyed the occasional cup of Arbor Red. And he enjoyed drinking it over talks of spilled blood.

Y/N nodded, taking a seat at the table, finally feeling relaxed.

"Once." She watched her husband sit on the chair next to her, urging her to tell him how and when, and to not shy away from details. Y/N explained that it truly was an accident. Or, better it started as an accident. "Because father never let me fight, I used to dress like a boy and play with wooden swords. But because I was also a spoiled child, I couldn't fathom losing." She sighed, and Aemond was beginning to pick up on where her story was going.

"You don't seem like a spoiled child." Her husband watched her unwind, taking her shoes off and kicking them away.

"I suppose I never wanted to be one, but I liked the perks that came with it. That day, I was playing with the stable boys, and one of them beat the life out of me. I didn't mind the physical pain, but I felt humiliated." Y/N scoffed. "When I attacked him, he removed the hood from my head and instantly recognised me. I was fortunate enough that the other boys left, but out of fear of father finding out what I was doing, I pushed him so hard he fell and hit his head in the stone wall."

"But it was accidental." Aemond mimicked his wife by taking his boots off. He felt strangely comfortable around Y/N, discussing issues he could never talk about with his family.

"Indeed." She agreed. "But I was afraid he would heal and tell the maesters who did that to him. When I caught a glimpse of a dagger, I picked it up, straddled the boy and stabbed him."

"How many times?" His voice was dangerously low, and although Aemond was leaned back in the chair, his fingernails dug into the wood of the armrests, excited to hear more.

"Enough for him to never recover. There was so much blood." Y/N gingerly touched her face, as if she could still feel the hot crimson liquid trickling down her chin. "Warm blood — on my hands, my clothes, my face. I should've felt guilty, but I didn't." There was no hint of remorse in her voice, and her eyes darted to Aemond's lap. It did not surprise her that he was aroused by her story, the bulge in his leather trousers growing more noticeable every time she spoke about blood.

"Then what happened?"

"I left him there, ran back to the castle, burned the clothes and went to bed." Y/N laughed, not at the poor boy's death, but at how selfish she had been. "I was young and stupid."

"You talk as if you're an old hag." The corners of Aemond's lips turned into a smirk.

"It happened a decade ago."

"Tell me, then, if you had your current wisdom, what would you have done?" He leaned forward, studying his wife.

"I would do it all again." Y/N smiled, the wine taking over her brain. She played into her husband's game by imitating him and leaning closer to his face. "I would perhaps get rid of the body this time." Y/N whispered into Aemond's ear.

He had heard enough — enough to desire her in bed. It could've been the wine, it could've been that he hasn't laid with a woman in a long time, but Aemond grabbed Y/N by the back of her neck, pressing his lips onto hers. She allowed him to slide his tongue between her wine-stained lips, and even dared to pull him closer.

Her fears? Gone.

Her morals? Gone.

Her last shred of dignity? Gone.

Aemond pulled away, earning a soft sigh from his wife, only to pull her up from the chair and push her onto the table, the cups clattering onto the floor.

"You..." He whispered, struggling to pull her dress up. "You were made to be mine." Aemond resorted to tearing the dress apart. He didn't like it, anyway, and he knew it brought sorrow to his mother.

Y/N melted under his touch like steel in dragonfire. She hastily pulled his green shirt over his head, taking a moment to appreciate his looks. It tickled Aemond's ego. He did not give two shits on people's opinion of him, but seeing the lust in her eyes only fuelled his inner fire.

"I-" She pressed her palms against his chest. "I am a maiden." Y/N told him, as if he expected her not to be one.

"I can't promise to be gentle." Aemond kissed her again. "But I can promise you will enjoy it."

That was a foreign concept to her. All the stories she heard from her mother were about pain, and how it was a woman's duty to bed her husband and not take pleasure from it. Only whores enjoy it, her mother would say. A whore she would be, then.

Once both of them were stripped of their clothes and morals, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, partly because she wanted to tease her husband. And Aemond was too far gone to respect his wife. His elbow pushed between her thighs, opening her legs while his hands dug into her hips, pulling her closer to him, like a starving dog.

"It will hurt." Was his attempt to comfort her.

"I know." Y/N nodded, her fingernails digging into his upper arms, bracing for pain. "I'm ready."

With her consent out of the way, Aemond slowly slid the tip of his cock between her already slick folds, stopping when he saw the discomfort on her face.

"Relax." He demanded, but it came from a good place. Being more experienced, Aemond wanted everything but to hurt her. When she nodded again, he pushed further, only to hear his wife scream in agony. "Bite into my shoulder. I don't suppose you want to wake everyone up."

Reluctantly, Y/N obeyed the order, her teeth sinking into his skin, and when he bottomed out, she arched her back in pain, wriggling and writhing under him. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes, despite Aemond stopping every movement to allow her to adjust to his size. What was worse was gone, and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him as if her life depended on it.

"By the gods, it hurts so much!" She cried out, gasping when she saw the mark she left on his skin.

"I know. But it will not get any worse than this." Aemond assured her. "Do you trust me?"

"I do." Y/N sobbed, but he was right. The pain slowly dissipated, and her muscles relaxed, no longer feeling on edge. It still hurt, yes, but it did not compare to the sheer pain she had felt moments ago.

When Aemond began rolling his hips, something awakened in the Lady of Castamere. The slight discomfort was still present, but it was quickly replaced by an unknown feeling which Y/N realised was something primal and instinctive — pleasure. Not even the thrills of fighting could compare to the pleasure she felt when Aemond thrusted harder and harder into her sloppy cunt.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He practically growled, surprising himself with his own words. Aemond wasn't the type of man to talk during these intimate moments, and while he enjoyed the occasional visits to brothels with Aegon, his wife was superior to all the whores he'd ever fucked.

Even her gestures were drawing him to her — the way Y/N rolled her eyes back, how she gasped, how she scratched his skin, leaving her mark on his body. Sure, Aegon might be disgusted by her scar and missing finger, but to Aemond, she was perfectly imperfect.

"So g-good!" Her thoughts were fuzzy, her words barely coherent. All Y/N could do was take him all in and revel in the bliss Aemond offered her.

But he wanted more, and when he pulled out, she complained. It bewildered her how much she actually enjoyed herself, to the point she cried out when she couldn't feel his cock stuffing her.

"Turn around." Aemond ordered, but he was already in the process of flipping her over, his hand pressing her face on the table.

Instinctively, Y/N lifted her ass up, like a bitch in heat, her fingernails leaving scratches on the wood.

"Please, put it in." Her cheeks were squished on the hard surface, body hot to the touch. There was no more room for decency and grace when all she wanted was for her husband to fuck her stupid.

"Already worshipping my cock, eh?" His lips pressed a kiss on her shoulder before he released the grip on her neck to lift her leg on the table. But he delivered, and he pushed his cock into her yearning cunt, a string of moans escaping her lips.

Y/N arched her back, not believing it would be possible for her to feel better than before. Oh, how wrong her mother was. She could feel him deeper, and he was anything but gentle and respectful.

The more he thrusted, the more she bucked her hips, using her trembling arms for support. Aemond's chambers echoed with her moans and his grunts, with the sound of skin on skin, and the disgusting wet noises that filled the Street of Silk.

And then it happened — Aemond's pace quickened, his fingers bruising her hips, and Y/N could feel her climax boiling into her core, awaiting release. Her spongy walls clenched around his cock, her head felt lighter and her chest heavier.

"Gods, Aemond, I can't-" She fell flat on the table, the filthiest guttural sounds emanating from her.

"Fuck." He could feel himself closer to his own climax, but he swiftly pulled his cock out, spilling his seed onto her lower back.

The warm liquid made Y/N prop herself on her elbows, curious as to why he did not finish inside of her.

"No heirs tonight." Aemond said, as if hearing her thoughts. "You're not a cow for breeding, you are my wife."

"I could've taken the tea." She spotted a piece of fabric from her wedding dress and took it, attempting to clean herself.

"You could've, but then everyone would find out." He snatched the fabric from her hand and wiped her skin clean. "And what would my grandfather think, then? That you're not a woman of your word, or worse, that you're plotting against the king."

Aemond was right. The maester would surely let the Hand know, and then she would either be imprisoned or killed.

"Very well. No heirs tonight." Y/N took the soiled fabric, tossing it into the fireplace.

Aemond brought Y/N one of his robes, draping it around her shoulders, his hand resting on the small of her back. Strangely, he felt the urge to hold her close to him, this woman he met and wed on the same day. He felt the need to protect her, despite knowing very well she did not need his protection.

But the only people he ever showed affection were his mother, and occasionally his sister. He did not know how to be a husband. But to show his wife that he trusted her, Aemond quietly took his eye patch off, revealing a sapphire gem in place of his missing eye.

"Disfigured." He uttered, watching his own reflection in the mirror next to the fireplace.

"No, perfect." She smiled, tilting her head so that he could better see her scar. Aemond brought his index finger to her cheek, tracing the scar down her neck, down her collarbone, in-between her breasts.

"One flesh, one heart, one soul." He repeated the Septon's words, and they began to make more sense.

"Now and forever."

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #asoif/got #asoiaf

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miyaur · 8 months

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mmmm i can only think of hsr men dancing with me in masquerade ball a.u

twirling and dancing about and then w take a break and sip some wine ARGHH

╭╯ ❝ 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞? ❞ ✦

┊𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱﹕ an anonymous man asks you for your hand at a masquerade ball that your friend hosted. originally you never liked going to parties, hell why even attend a ball when you can take a rest at home?! but, you know, 1 ball isn't that bad.

╰ ꒱﹒ 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞﹕ no warnings, just masquerade ball shenanigans :3

一 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬﹕ i've been pondering, and pondering, and pondering when to write on this account istg.. anyways im back and school was great?!?! also YES NEW LAYOUT WOOO

一 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧﹕ luocha, welt, blade x gn!reader (seperate)

luocha 一

he really knows his way around the dance floor, whether or not it's his first time, in his free time definitely learned how to dance! so graceful with it too. amazing hand placement 100%

he knows very well on where to step, on where to place his hands on you, makes sure you're comfortable with what he's doing as well!

genuinely loves to twirl you around when you dance with him, like he finds it so amazingly satisfying for some reason, so expect quite the smug smile whenever he does twirl you

as for his outfit, the classic all white suit decorated with gold on his jacket and tie. and doesn't wanna be so anonymous, but probably lets his hair in a low ponytail and a mask that only covers his green eyes. the mask is white and like gold on the very edge of the mask, ykwim?? like the brims of the mask are with yellow, gold, all that good stuff

will make sure you both have very often breaks, he knows how tiring dancing can get, whether your forehead is covered with your mask or not, by the end of the night, it'll be kissed <3

and for the matter that you both stop for wine, he controls his alcohol very well! considering he is a doctor, he knows the amount he can handle.

probably the type of guy to hug you from behind every chance he gets.

originally tells you, you should go with your friend who got an invite that mentions they could bring a plus one, just for him to end up going and steal you away to show everyone what a true star you are, and how bright you can really be.

a blonde-haired man, his hair was in a low ponytail, walked up to you. disguised with a beautiful mask, approaches you from behind, and whispers into your ear, "may i have this dance?"

welt 一

same as luocha, he knows how to dance, and to add onto that, he dances very well. probably the one who invited you to the ball with him, helped you decide on what you'd wear since he wanted, or atleast hinted he wanted to match with you

matching masks as well>>> it's a need to him!!

literal blushing mess as soon as he sees you wear what he suggested for you to wear to the ball, he's genuinely a blushing mess, like his legs lowkey tremble

i like to hc that he writes a ton too

so like he'd write about the moment you stepped out of your room

he's giddy about the idea

literally in love with you all over again

would definitely have you in his arms, as in his arms around your waist, his head on your shoulder hugging you from behind, while it's just the two of you out in the balcony of the place where the ball was held ahh <3

literally just wants to show you off to everyone.. nicely. like he'll sway you all around the dance floor and everyone else attending the ball is watching how graceful you both are, and he's just smirking, all smug n shit behind his mask.

easily calms himself down, and knows the way to truly embrace you and your beauty as you glide on the dance floor, would probably carry you by the end of the dance, and kiss you on the nose, and lastly hug you close.

himeko took pictures of that exact moment, nonstop teasing from her as well.

blade 一

lowkey shy, but confident at the same time, acts like he doesn't know who you are, but at the same time, he knows what colors fit you, and colors you prefer on your clothing

if you took his suggestion on what to where to the ball when you asked him, will lowkey blush too一 really subtle, but since his mask would only cover his eyes, you could see a subtle blush on his face. you might not see it, but its there.

of course, kafka probably helped hum pick stuff out for his outfit, even though he knows what he clearly would like on his suit. probably waa flashier than expected because kafka is so cool

recognizes you instantly, but like i said, he'll act like he doesn't know, just asking a random person onto the dance floor, very well aware that he's dancing with you.

so i headcannon him to be a man with spectacular taste in fashion, knows exactly what fits a person, probably only the closest of his friends or loved ones knows this.

fast forward to the next day; you are talking to your close friend, blade, about going to a ginarmous masquerade ball last night, he'd just nod and be an active listener to your story, amazing listener to all your stories actually.

while you ramble about the man you danced with at the ball, saying how well he swayed along the smooth, and shiny tiles of the ground, and probably was the best dancer in the room. to your shock, he mentions he attended the ball as well as his business genius friend; Kafka's assistant, to follow along with her.

kind of just is flushed while you find out he was the one you danced with. will slightly hesitate if you ask him to teach you to dance like him, but will dance with you either way.

10/10, would dance with again fr

一 took me 1 month to write again, lmao

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frodo-with-glasses · 2 months

Text

More Reading Thoughts: In the House of Tom Bombadil

BEHOLD! ANOTHER CHAPTER! We’re making it at a magnificent clip nowadays

Eyyyy it’s Goldberry!

Frodo surprising himself with the poem that springs out of his mouth when he sees Goldberry will never not be hilarious and adorable

It does beg the question of where the heck that came from. Does Goldberry just have that effect on people? Does it have serving to do with Elf magic, like she implies? Does Frodo just have that accidental rizz?? Who knows!

Frodo: “Who is Tom Bombadil?” Goldberry: “Well, he is, of course, silly :-D”

Mighty convenient that Tom has exactly four beds for the four travelers

They DO take a bath before supper >8-D (Don’t mind me, just a comic idea percolating in my head. Some of you know what I’m talking about.)

Tom was waiting for them. Tom was waiting for them. He’d heard word that the hobbits were coming. He wasn’t actively trying to find them, but he wasn’t surprised when he did. I don’t know why that enchants me so much.

Merry and Pippin like “AAAHH NO DON’T TALK ABOUT THE WILLOW TREE” is simultaneously hilarious and heartbreaking depending on how you look at it

Heeheehee nightmare time

Frodo has a dream about Gandalf and Black Riders. Hmm, pity. You’d think he’d have a nightmare about water, given his near-drowning and the way his parents died…but I guess this is important for foreshadowing purposes.

Pippin has a dream about being inside the tree. He feels surrounded and afraid. Understandable.

MERRY has the dream about water and drowning?? Shut up!! If I were him, I’d be way more disturbed that a freaking tree was IN MY HEAD and threatening to kill me!!

“Sam slept through the night in deep content, if logs are contented.” Hilarious 🤣

Much apologies to my girlies on the server who headcanon the hobbits with phobias corresponding to the four elements; sadly, Tolkien is not on the same page as us this time.

Tom: “You’d better not be late to breakfast, or you’ll get nothing but grass and water!”

See, Frodo gets it. Rainy days are awesome. They are beautiful and force you to slow down and admire the world.

“The trees were here before you, mind, and they don’t much care for your shenanigans!”

Ooh, so the Barrow-wights are the ghosts of dead kings that the Nazgul woke up. Fascinating.

Nothing makes the world of Middle Earth feel old and rich in history more than Tom’s stories

Goldberry’s hand being partly translucent is such a vibe

WAIT. Tom and Goldberry. Differences. Tall and short. Blonde and brown. One graceful and ethereal, the other down to earth and joyful. Working together, not in competition. Frodo and Sam. SHUT UP GUYS I’VE CRACKED THE CODE—

Tom is friends with Farmer Maggot!!

FARMER MAGGOT HAS SPOKEN TO GILDOR

Dang where’s my fantasy epic about Farmer Maggot you guys

And this is the part where Tom puts the Ring on his finger and doesn’t disappear, and if they’d ever included this in the movies it would’ve destroyed the gravity and mystique of the Ring altogether

Merry having to bite back a yell like “HOLY CRAP FRODO’S GONE” 🤣

WAIT I CAN MAKE THAT ANGSTY TOO aw heck the brainrot is setting in

“Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased)…” Relatable, Frodo, relatable

Tom: “And remember, DON’T GO NEAR THE BARROW-DOWNS!” Meanwhile, the hobbits, in the very next chapter:

#tom bombadil #frodo baggins #meriadoc brandybuck #merry #peregrin took #pippin #samwise gamgee #lord of the rings #lotr #my writing #chapter review

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sneakyblinders · 1 year

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chocolate cake

A/N: for my Tommy and his darling wife!au. we meet grace in this one... continued in the drunk lunch. warnings: not canon. sexual themes, mentions/alluding to smut but no smut. fluff. language, general other peaky blinders shenanigans. (alcohol, smoking etc) 2.3k words

As your marriage to Thomas Shelby went on, there were things he discovered about you that he hadn’t known about prior to your vows.

Like how you stole all of the blankets in your sleep, leaving him to freeze with no blankets, your grip on the blankets unbreakable, even in your deepest sleep.

Or, how much you enjoyed writing letters. He grew to love your handwriting. Grew fond of the little notes you’d leave for him in the domestic parts of your home. Some simple and sweet, and others laced with the intention of getting him rather riled up for later.

He loved how intentionally you selected your outfits for the day, how much you fussed over your hair and lipstick being just right. He’d sit and watch as you finger combed through your curls, getting the waves right.

He loved how bright you are. He knew you were bright before he married you, yes, but upon finding the right place for you at Shelby Company Limited, he was astounded at how quickly you caught on to everything he had given you charge over. You were fantastic with numbers, quicker with them than he was. Good with wording correspondence. He also thought you looked bloody beautiful sitting at the desk at the other end of his office. You told him you didn’t have to be in his office to be his new secretary, but he assured you that he wanted you in his office. Wanted to spend every second with you that he could. And every chance he got to lay eyes on you, he took. It took some getting used to–having his beautiful bride in his office everyday. He didn’t get nearly as much work done the first few weeks, but after the novelty wore off, the two of you fell into a good routine. Every Friday you’d walk into the office to see a fresh bouquet of flowers from your husband sitting on the corner of your desk.

“Mr. Shelby, it appears someone is trying to romance me,” you giggled, reading the card in the flowers the first Friday he had the idea. The card was incredibly raunchy, something you couldn’t believe he would’ve narrated to the flower shop man.

“Is it working?” he smirked at you from behind his paper, sitting at his desk.

“Yes.” you smiled back.

But his favorite thing he’d discovered after you’d married, was your love for celebration, and your ability to bake.

When you got married in March, you were dismayed that you had to wait a whole ten months to celebrate your husband's birthday in January. “You have almost a whole year to think of how to royally embarrass me, my darling.” he had told you.

He was turning thirty-one, and you had wanted to make it a special day with you and his family.

You’d spent the night before his birthday holed up in the kitchen, shooing Frances away, assuring her you knew what you were doing and you didn’t need any help. Your Thomas loved chocolate, and a chocolate cake is what he got.

He returned home late that evening, just as you were tucking the frosted cake into the icebox for the celebration dinner you had planned for the next evening. “Darling?” he called from the foyer.

“In the kitchen!” you called back, smoothing down your hair, unknowingly spreading flower and sugar throughout it.

He chuckled when he saw you. Hair adorned with sugar and flower, the front of your apron messy from where you’d wiped your hands repeatedly on it, and a slight bit of chocolate on the corner of your lips from where you’d taste tested. “Hello there,” he chuckled as you untied your apron. “You’ve got a little something here,” he told you, smiling down as he wiped at the chocolate with his thumb. You stood on your toes to kiss him. He moaned into the kiss before you pulled away. “Smells wonderful in here, what is it?”

“You’ll have to wait ‘till tomorrow!” you tell him in a sing-song voice, dancing away from his hands to the sink.

“You don’t have to do that tonight, love, it’s late. Let Frances do it.” he told you as you went to the sink and started scrubbing at the dishes.

“If I don’t, it’ll be harder to get clean tomorrow. It won’t take me long. Plus, I have other plans for tomorrow, and I already told Frances she could turn in for the evening,” you tell him, turning the water on. He took his jacket off and began to unclasp his cufflinks, putting them in the dish you kept for your rings at times like this, and rolled his sleeves up.”What’re you doing?” you ask as he stands next to you.

“Helping,” he said simply, holding the drying towel as you passed him the first of many spoons that needed washing. “When your hands start to turn pruney, switch me and I’ll wash and you can dry.” he told you, sliding the spoon into the drawer with the rest of the silverware.

“You surprise me everyday, Thomas Shelby.” you smile at him, continuing to scrub.

You asked about his day and he told you of several conversations he’d had in your absence at the office. He told you of the new barmaid that Harry had hired, and he had an odd feeling about her.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“She kept eyeing me.” he said as he pulled your hands from the dirty water, signaling you it was his time to wash.

“Eyeing you?” you ask, heart sinking a little.

He smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nothing to be worried about my love, she’s–not someone I’d be interested in,” noticing your apprehension, he wiped his hands on the dish towel and turned to you, taking your head in his hands. “She’s not you. I’m madly in love with you, eh?” he told you. You nodded, as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

The next evening after the company was closed for the weekend, you all headed to the Garrison to celebrate Tommy’s birthday. You’d asked Frances to drop the cake off at the Garrison that afternoon.

When you entered the Garrison, you were greeted by a number of “regulars” who you had grown to know and care for. Caleb, one of them, was a young man, probably sixteen, who was infatuated with you. At first you were afraid of his advances, not wanting Tommy to hurt the poor man. “Darling, I know it’s just puppy love. I know you need a man,” he had nearly growled in your ear, making you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together under the table.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby!” Caleb waved to you from the bar.

“Evening, Caleb!” you waved back to him as he smiled from ear to ear. Tommy’s hand was on the small of your back, gently guiding you to the snug, where his family waited with confetti, whiskey, beer and party blowers. And of course, the cake.

You caught the eye of the new barmaid, and she instantly made your blood boil. She looked at you as if she may cry.

“Does she always look like that?” you asked Tommy over your shoulder.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Like she’ll burst into tears at any given moment.” you said.

Tommy just smirked, opening the door to the snug. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” everyone yelled as he walked through the door. He looked at you with an incredulous smile as confetti fell onto his hat and shoulders.

“Come on, ya mad bastard, so we can eat this lovely cake your wife made!” Arthur said, hurrying the birthday man to sit down.

All of you were crowded around the table, sitting shoulder to shoulder as you passed pieces of cake around, and toasted to the birthday boy. “Thirty one miserable years. May the next thirty one be better than the first thirty one,” John joked. Everyone laughed and toasted, beer sloshing over the sides of their mugs.

You’d made advances at him all evening, undressing him with your eyes, pressing small kisses to his jawline, a hand on his thigh, fiddling with his ring when you held his hand, all things that you’d discovered that drive him wild.

After everyone was properly drunk, Tommy excused the two of you for the evening. “Let’s go to my upstairs office, since you can’t seem to wait until we get home,” he rasped low in your ear, hand around your waist as he guided you upstairs, the barmaid's eyes not leaving your back for a minute.

Tommy closed his office door with his foot, his hands too preoccupied with pushing your coat off your shoulders.

Thirty minutes later, after a long round merciless teasing on your end, and begging and cursing on your husbands, your knees ached; but your husband was breathless in front of you, his chest heaving as you rested your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him from your position between his legs on the floor.

“Fucking perfect angel, my wife is.” he told you, reaching for a cigarette in his top desk drawer. You move yourself up to sit on his lap, taking the cigarette from him, lighting it between your lips before passing it to him.

“Happy birthday, my love.” you tell him, pressing a kiss to his jawline, resting your head on his shoulder. He smokes, allowing his breathing to return to normal and the flush to fade from his cheeks and neck. After he finishes his cigarette, he tucks himself back into his pants, readjusts his suspenders and straps his holster back around his shoulders before pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders. “Ready?” you ask, standing by the door.

“Yes,” he says, looking around the office, a confused look on his face. “Do you think I left my hat in the snug?” he asked.

“Probably, we can go look.” you tell him, taking his hand as he locks the door of his office.

The Garrison was nearly empty now, his family and most patrons long gone by this time of night. The barmaid was wiping down the bar when you two walked by. “Mrs. Shelby,” she called out to you, her accent striking to your ears. Tommy kept walking towards the snug. “Where did you get your dress? It’s beautiful.” she said, a small smile attempting to form on her lips.

“Mrs. Johnson’s, on Rickter street.” you say, eyeing her carefully. She shrinks under your scrutinous gaze.

“Mr. Shelby’s birthday is today?” she asks.

“Yes.” you tell her shortly as Tommy returns with his hat.

“It was in there, love.” he tells you, hat in his hand. “Grace,” he nods to the barmaid.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Shelby.” she says, a flash of seduction in her tone.

“Thank you,” Tommy held out his hand for you to take after he secured his cap on his head. “Goodnight, Grace.”

“Goodnight,” she called out, but the doors slammed shut behind you two before either of you could hear her.

You were quiet on the ride home, hand resting on Tommy’s thigh as he drove you two home. “You alright?” he asked when he pulled into the circular driveway of your home.

“Yes. Perfectly alright.” you told him, faking a smile.

“Did the barmaid say something to you?” he asked.

“I just–can’t shake this feeling, Thomas.” you tell him, worry spreading across your features.

“We’ll figure it out, my love. Try and put it out of your mind for tonight, yeah?” he told you. You nodded your head in agreement.

The next morning you woke up naked in Tommy’s arms, your back against his chest. Your legs burned, and there was a familiar ache between your legs from the second half of your husband's birthday present you’d delivered after returning home. He groaned as he began to wake up, rolling onto his back to stretch his legs. “Good morning,” you tell him, flipping to your stomach to stretch your arms and legs simultaneously.

“Good morning,” he rasps, voice gravelly from sleep. “Thank you for such a wonderful birthday, Sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome. Did you like your cake?” you ask.

“It was the best birthday cake I’ve ever eaten.” he told you, raking a hand through his hair. “Do we have any leftovers? I’d like some for breakfast.” he smirked at you, reaching for a cigarette. “I liked everything you did for my birthday.” he said, pulling you into his chest, a cheeky tone to his voice.

“Yeah?” you asked, cheeks flushing.

“Yes. That red robe… I really like that.” he said, eyeing where he had thrown it the night before on the chair in the corner of the room.

“I’ll wear it more often.” you told your husband, rolling on top of him, your mind a million miles away from all the worries you had the night before about the barmaid.

Grace entered the museum, aware of her meeting place with Inspector Campbell. She quickly walked through the halls, finding the room he had described to her. She nervously fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, waiting for him to round the corner-make his presence known.

“Any luck with Thomas Shelby?” his deep voice rasped as he came around the corner.

“Not so far,” she said quietly. “I think getting close to him will prove to be far harder than we thought. He is besotted with his wife.” she said, a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

The inspector breathed out a “pft”. “No man like Thomas Shelby is besotted with a wife for long. Men like him stray easily.”

She chuckled. “You didn’t see the way he looked at her.” she said. “And,” she added quickly. “You didn’t see what she looks like.”

“Then get close to the wife.” Campbell ground out, jaw locked tight.

Grace’s pulse sped up. “That is–another angle.”

And thus began Grace’s attempt at friendship with Mrs. Thomas Shelby.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tom shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peakywomen #sneakyblinders

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jeystattoos · 9 months

Text

Lady of Neptune - Jey Uso x Reader

Jey Uso x Black Reader!

Word Count: 1538

18+

"No, cause I need you baby. When I fuck you all the ways that you want it, don't ever leave me baby."

August 22nd was practically a national holiday. You treated it as such. It was the day that your beloved boyfriend Jey Uso, and his twin Jimmy Uso were born. It was no secret that the Fatu family was compiled with some of the most beautiful humans to ever grace the Earth.

Jey truly didn’t age, he aged backwards. He didn’t look a day over 27, his skin was supple and soft. His body was like a living masterpiece; he was running out of skin to cover with his tribal tattoos. Sometimes you enjoyed tracing every single intricate detail with your tongue, using it to drive Jey absolutely insane.

You’d been sitting on the couch, waiting for him to come back. He’d spent half the day with his twin, and you enjoyed watching the shenanigans they’d gotten into throughout their day. You were a bit too excited to give him his presents. Jey wasn’t a materialistic man by any means, but he did have an affinity for the nicer things in life. He busted his ass for the money he earned, so he spent it on whatever caught his eye, or yours.

He was a sneakerhead, so he was always looking for the flyest pair of Jordan’s. He also enjoyed Rolexes, so he kept a small collection of those as well. You’d secretly spied on him while he was on the phone, looking at the latest editions of the watches and sneakers. To say you’d spent a pretty penny on these luxury gifts would be an understatement. The price didn’t matter, though. You enjoyed spoiling your man with the things he loved, but you had a feeling he’d be more interested in what you’d really gotten him.

Jey was a sucker for you and every little thing you did; he couldn’t contain himself when you wore lingerie that hugged every part of your curves. He was obsessed with your body, in love with the thickness of it. Your thighs didn’t stand a chance, as they were always bitten up by your man.

You’d found a spicy new set from SavagexFenty in a deep maroon color, with a matching silk robe. The kitten heels were a nice touch, complimenting the soft makeup you’d done as well. Jey loved the way that your 4C curls fell in perfect harmony down your back, so you made sure that they were on full display for him.

The sound of the door unlocking made your heart stop. You sat up on the couch, waiting impatiently for him to step through. As Jey emerged through the door, you rose to your feet. His eyes fell over you, licking his lips as he made his way towards you. He was wearing that sexy smile. “Damn, hey baby.” He greeted you with a soft kiss on the lips. His strong hands were around your waist, holding you tight against his rock hard figure.

“Hey baby, I’m glad you’re finally home. I’ve been waiting for you.” You said with a smile, running your fingers through his dark curls. Jey’s smirk grew, as he kissed your jawline.

“Yeah? What’s up with the presents, baby girl?” He motioned towards the two boxes that were wrapped, sitting on the couch. You smiled and took him by the hand, leading him over to the couch. You handed him the big box first. “Open this one first!”

Jey looked up at you, before he ripped into the box. He pulled out the Jordan 1s, Chicago edition. They were the hardest to find, and you knew how much he wanted them. You sat in his lap, watching as his eyes twinkled with excitement. “Baby girl… how the hell did you find these?” He looked up at you, smiling from ear to ear. You smirked and kissed him softly.

“I have my ways, baby. Now, open this one.” You handed him the smaller box. Jey didn’t waste any time opening it. When he realized you’d also got him the Rolex Midas, his cheeks were full from how hard he was smiling. His happiness made your heart flutter.

“Oh my God, thank you so much baby.” Jey sat down the presents, returning his attention to you. He gave you a million little kisses. You pulled away briefly, smirking deviously at him. “There’s just one more gift,” You rose to your feet, and began to take off the robe. Jey’s eyes followed your every movement. The robe dropped to the floor, your brown body on full display in the sexiest lingerie you’d ever worn. Jey’s gaze was lustful, as his eyes flicked up to look into yours. He slowly rose from his seated position, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“God damn…” He cursed, before diving in for a hungry kiss. He kissed you aggressively, claiming your lips with his teeth. He nibbled at your bottom lip, soon slipping his tongue into your mouth. One kiss from him and you were weak in the knees. Jey scooped you up with ease, making his way towards the staircase. He marched to your bedroom, keeping the steamy kiss between the two of you going.

You heard the door shutting behind him, your back feeling the coolness from the wall that he’d pinned you against. He momentarily pulled away from your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m finna fuck the shit outta you, doll.” His voice was gruff, barely above a whisper.

Jey let his hands roam your body. His fingers slipped between your inner thighs, tickling your slit. Once he discovered that the lingerie set was crotchless, his eyes refocused on you. He continued to play with your slick folds, smirking down at you as he did so. You were already on the brink.

“I got your pussy drippin’ already, baby.” He taunted, as he removed his hand. He left you aching for his fingers, wanting to feel them inside of your soaking cunt. Jey ripped his jacket and shirt off in one go, his tight jeans soon following suit.

He wasted no time lining his thick cock up with your entrance, beginning to push his length inside of you. He wasn’t giving you time to adjust or prepare, but you didn’t need it. You were used to his size. You enjoyed when he behaved this way; so aggressive and dominant. It turned you on beyond belief. Once he had fully entered, he started stroking quickly. His hand held your neck in place, as he suckled on your neck, leaving hickies everywhere. You’d have to cover them up in the morning.

“You’re the only gift I need, baby.” He grunted, picking up the speed a bit. His grip around your neck tightened, leaving you a whimpering mess beneath him.

“Daddy,” You mewled, melting under his spell. Jey let out a breathy laugh, pulling his head up to look you in the eyes. “What’s my name, baby?”

“D-daddy,” You purred, never looking away from his hickory eyes. He smirked, giving you a deep kiss as a reward. “Say it again.”

“Daddy!” You whine, succumbing to his incredible stroke game. He’d slowed down momentarily, using it to his advantage. As you continued to call him Daddy, he continued to tease you.

“That’s right, Y/N. I’m your Daddy,” He growled in your ear, nipping at your earlobe. He began pistoning in and out of you at an alarming rate. You couldn’t keep quiet, moaning and gasping how good he felt. He was living up to his promise, fucking you into a euphoric state.

“Hnng, mm, ngh,” Unable to form a coherent sentence, you’d been reduced to nothing but a slew of moans. Jey was in love with what he was doing to you. “Good girl. Take my dick, baby.”

Jey pulled you off the wall, wrapping both of his arms around your waist as he bounced you up and down on his cock. The squelching noises of how wet you were filled the room, along with the sounds of passion omitting from you both.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? Are you going to let Daddy destroy you?” Jey whispered, slipping his hand around your neck. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, as if you were searching for your words. They’d left you a few strokes ago.

“Y-yes..” You managed to say, tightening your legs around his waist. Jey began to pound you ruthlessly, not letting up for a single second. His thumb flicked back and forth over your clit, grinning as you started to squirt a bit. Your orgasm was on the horizon. Your body felt like it was on a spiritual plane of pleasure, spasming as your orgasm claimed you. Jey didn’t stop, though. He loved to overstimulate you until you couldn’t take anymore.

“Fuck!” You hissed, draping your body against his. Jey braced you against him, feeling you growing weaker in his arms. He slowed down, walking the two of you over to the bed. He laid you down on the mattress, pulling himself out of you. He smiled down at you, before he kneeled in front of you. You pulled yourself up to look into his eyes. “What are you doing, babe?”

Jey laughed. “I haven’t had my birthday cake yet,”

#jey uso #jey uso fanfic #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x y/n #jey uso x you #jey uso smut

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