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hedgehog-moss · 6 months

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I randomly found a 500 page French book on OpenLibrary about the etymology of animal names so here are 10 (ish) fun facts:

the French word for poodle, “caniche” looks like it definitely comes from Latin “canis” (dog) but no! It comes from cane / canard (duck) because it was a waterfowl-hunting dog—and its name in English, Swedish, German, Dutch (poodle, pudel, puedel) also reflects this dog’s affinity with water (from pudeln = to splash about). It’s like otters, whose name come from the same root as water...

the canary on the other hand is named after canis / dog, since it comes from the Canary Islands which, according to Pliny the Elder, were named after the huge dogs that lived there at some point. Some historians think these mysterious big dogs were actually seals or big lizards. Then a bird ended up with the name ‘from the dog place’ though it’s unclear if dogs were ever truly involved. (Meanwhile Spain / Hispania comes from the Phoenician i-shepan-im, the place with rabbits.) I like the idea of ancient humans seeing seals or lizards and going “weird dogs”. Like how ancient Greeks saw hyenas and named them “pigs, I guess?”

the fox has a great diversity of names in Europe: fox / Fuchs, zorro, räv, volpe, raposa, lisu, róka, renard... In French it used to be called ‘goupil’, from the same Latin root as the Italian ‘volpe’, but then the mediaeval cycle of poems known as Le Roman de Renart, about an unprincipled fox named Renart, became so popular that renard became the word for fox and goupil disappeared. It’s like if 500 years from now bears in English were called baloos. (The English and German words for fox come from the indo-european root puk- which means tail, like Hungarian ‘farkas’ (wolf) which means tail-having, or squirrel, from the Greek words for shade + tail, there are actually lots of animals that are just “that one with a tail”...)

French has a word for baby rabbit (lapereau) derived from Latin leporellus (little hare) and we used to have a word for adult rabbit (conin) from Latin cuniculus (rabbit)—related to the German Kaninchen, Italian coniglio, Spanish conejo, etc. But ‘conin’ in Old French also meant pussy (there were mediaeval puns about this in the Roman de Renart) and at some point I guess people were like okay, it was funny at first but we’ve run this joke into the ground, and a new and politically correct word appeared for adult rabbit (lapin) based on the pre-existing word for baby rabbit (lapereau).

The english bear is thought to come from the proto-IE root bher-, for brown—I love how Finnish has so many nicknames and euphemisms for “bear” ranging from “honey palm” to “apple of the forest” and English is like... dude’s brown. Same amount of effort with the Swedish and Danish words for fox, räv / ræv, from a root that means reddish-brown. (And the Hungarian word for lion, oroszlán, along with the Turkish ‘aslan’, comes from proto-Turkic arislan / arsilan which comes from arsil which means brown...) And since brown was already taken, ‘beaver’ (+ German, Dutch, Swedish...: Biber, bever, bäver) has been speculated to come from bhe-bhrus-, a doubling of the original root so... brownbrown.

English foal / German Fohlen / French poulain / Italian puledro all come from the proto-IE root pu- which means small (e.g. Latin puer and Greek pais = child)—then the French ‘poulain’ became ‘poulenet’ with the diminutive -et (so, a smallsmall animal) and poulenet became powny in Scots then pony in English, which was then re-imported by French as ‘poney’. Also the Spanish word for donkey, burro, comes from Latin burricus = small horse, and in French Eeyore is named Bourriquet with the -et diminutive ending, so we just keep taking small horses and turning them into smallsmall horses...

The boa (bo(v)a) shares the same etymology as bovine / bœuf / beef, due to a widespread belief that some snakes suckled milk from cows. Pliny the Elder stated this as fact and (not to bully him but) modern research tells us “there is no empirical basis for saying snakes like mammal milk; experiments, indeed, have shown that captive snakes systematically refuse to drink milk”

I was disappointed to learn that antelope comes from Greek anthólops which referred to a mythical creature, because I grew up convinced the origin of the word (antilope in French) was anti-lupus, as in, the gazelle is the generic prey so as a concept it’s the opposite of the wolf, the generic predator. Wolf and anti-wolf. Though it raised the question of why we don’t have antilions (zebra), anticats (mice) and antibears (salmons)

Many European languages have named kites after some sort of flying animal: in English it comes from the word for owl, in Portuguese from the word for parrot, in Italian from eagle, and in French it’s cerf-volant aka flying-deer. There’s an interesting hypothesis for this! Kites came to Europe from China, where they were often shaped like dragons or snakes, and snake is serpent in French and serpe in Old French, so it’s possible that kites were serpe-volants aka flying-snakes. But the ‘p’ and ‘v’ next to one another were a hassle to pronounce so the p got dropped and it became ser-volant, then ‘ser’ which isn’t a word started being mistaken for ‘cerf’ which is pronounced ‘ser’ but means deer... (We did it again with chauve-souris (bald-mouse = bat), which comes from the Gaulish cawa-sorix aka owl-mouse—which makes more sense as a name for bats! similar to the German Fledermaus, flying-mouse, and Spanish murciélago, blind-mouse. But Gaulish ‘cawa’ was mixed up with Latin ‘calva’ = chauve = bald, so now a French bat is a bald-mouse)

I love etymology, it’s all flying deer and dogs named splash and snakes named cow and ponies named smallsmall and five animals named brown and three named tail—words acquire a veneer of linguistic respectability over the centuries and we forget that fundamentally everyone just says whatever

#language tag

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stvharrngton · 4 months

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Alr I got one for u pookie

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl/boy.” But it’s reader saying it to Steve 😏😏

ur wish is my command 🫡

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, mutual masturbation, dom!reader, sub!steve

prompt: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good boy”

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke @gvf23

requests are open!

Steve watched you through heavy eyes as you removed the thin, lacy black material that covered your heat. He was already naked, from head to toe, as he sat back against the headboard of your bed, propped up by plump pillows.

It was the only item of clothing you removed. The matching bra was still squeezing your tits together, the suspenders and stockings hugging your hips and legs so perfectly.

Steve’s jaw was slack, his mouth dry and his heart beating outside of his chest as he watched you saunter to the end of the bed. He curled his fingers into the sheets either side of him as you crawled towards him, that devilish look in your eye. The one you always coined when you were in the mood to tease, or rather torture, him.

“What do you want, Stevie?” you asked, all sweetly. Twirling a strand of your hair around your finger, “Use your words, honey.”

His brain took a second to respond. Not that he didn’t know what he wanted, fuck, he wanted you in any which way you would give yourself to him but he was so entranced and captivated by your oozing confidence and sexiness that he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

“Y-you,” he stammered out, the tips of his ears going a deep shade of red, his stiff cock twitching with every move you made, “want you to touch yourself, want you to touch me.”

“Yeah?” you breathed out, inching closer to where his cock sat against his stomach, “Do you think you can watch me make myself cum, baby? Without touching yourself?”

“I—, fuck,” he groaned, the mere thought of it, the image of you playing with yourself when Steve isn’t able to do a damn thing about it turned him on, an insane amount at that.

“No?” you teased, your hand wandering south, skimming over your soft stomach, “I might let you cum if you can keep your hands to yourself, Stevie.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded frantically. Hairs flopping across his forehead as he did so. You smirked in response, leaning in to brush your lips over his ever so softly, whispering a ‘good boy’ into his mouth.

Steve didn’t know how he was going to last. His cock was already rock hard, his length leaking precum from the angry red tip. His balls were heavy and ready to be touched, his cock ready to be milked for everything he had. But he was determined, nonetheless. He wouldn’t want to disappoint you, after all.

You took your position at the end of the bed, your legs spread wide, revealing your pussy to Steve. He groaned loudly at the sight, your slick already coating your lips and arousal leaking from your hole. God, he wishes he could taste you right now.

“Hands on your thighs, baby. Where I can see ‘em.” You instructed and Steve did as he was told. Once satisfied you took your index finger and teased your pussy, collecting your juices and spreading it around your cunt, your middle finger joining soon after.

You let a teasing whimper slip as your fingers brushed over your clit and Steve grunted at the sound, his blunt fingernails digging into the meaty flesh of his thighs. You sped up the pace of your fingers, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud as you watched Steve carefully through your lashes.

“Fuck, Stevie,” you mewled, your bottom lip settling between your teeth as you continued to spread your wetness around your pussy, “feels so good, so hot,” you moaned, slipping a finger inside your hole, “but it’s nothing compared to your long, thick fingers.”

You knew it would rile him up. That it would make his task seem even more impossible now. He whined at your words, his hips canting up to try and catch some friction on his cock from the thin air, his cheeks rosy red.

You chuckled at him sympathetically, bringing the finger that had just been inside of you to your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digit, sucking all your juices from it. Steve was itching to touch himself, itching to touch you. He knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Bringing your fingers back to your pussy, you slipped two inside your cunt now. Doing your best to curl them and scissor them to stretch you out but more importantly, to give Steve one hell of a show.

Steve whined pathetically at the sight, essentially fucking his cock into nothing as he did. “Baby, please,” he groaned, “fuck—, I can’t, ‘m gonna fuckin’ explode.”

“What’s the matter, Stevie?” you cooed, your fingers never letting up as you continued to fuck yourself with them. You couldn’t help but notice how wet his eyes looked, the boy desperately trying to blink away the tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Please, I can’t—,” he stammered, fingers now pulling at his locks in frustration, “need to touch my cock, please baby, I can’t take much more. I’ll be good.”

You contemplated his request for a moment, debating whether he had ‘suffered’ enough. You loved to dominate Steve, to put him in his place. But you could be sympathetic too.

“Go ahead, baby. Stroke that big cock for me.”

Steve wasted no time in lathering his hand in his spit and wrapped his fingers around his hard cock. He started off gentle, soft teasing strokes, like you would do. But the faster your fingers moved inside your pussy, the faster Steve fisted his cock.

He moaned loudly, a pretty little high pitched whine emanating from his soft pink lips. Your cheeks grew hot at the sound, the way Steve looked so fucked out, his hair wild and all over the place, his eyes glassy, it almost had you drooling.

“That’s it, Stevie. Feels good, huh baby?” You praised him, feeling the pressure in your lower stomach build as you rubbed over your clit harshly. And Steve wasn’t far behind.

You both knew it wouldn’t take much for the spurts of sticky white to shoot from his length, you’d been teasing him for too long and he was ready to see stars.

“Gonna cum, Steve,” you moaned, “fuck, want you to watch me cum all over my fingers.

Steve nodded frantically, his fingers squeezing at his cock as he worked himself to the edge. He was panting, his brow sweaty, beads of sweat working their way into the ringlets of his hair. He watched you with a slack jaw as you came. Your back arching as you tried your best not to squeeze your legs together. Your orgasm washed over you as you cried out Steve’s name.

“Oh, fu-uck,” Stevie whined. His eyes traveled down your body, his pupils blown at the sight of your pussy. Dripping wet and a white creamy ring forming at your hole. As you came down from your high, you made quick work of getting Steve to his.

Plunging your fingers into your spent cunt, you collected your juices as you took your place on Steve’s meaty thigh. He was in awe of you, as he most often was, warm brown eyes blinking up at you as he continued to fist his cock.

“Open wide, honey.” You whispered, breathing softly down his neck. You brought your wet fingers to his pretty pink lips, “Want you to suck on my fingers when you cum.”

Steve’s eyes rolled back as his tongue swirled around your digits, feeling the pressure become too much, he squeezed at his cock as ropes of hot cum shot out from the tip, trickling over his hand and stomach.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good boy,” you mewled, stroking at his firm chest with your free hand, “I’ve got you, baby, doing so well for me.” The boys eyes scrunched together as he whined around your fingers, his hips rocking up and fucking his cock into his fist.

You removed your fingers from Steve’s mouth, his eyes still closed as he laid back, spent, against the plump pillows. You pressed soft kisses all over his flush face, “Such a good boy.” you cooed.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #k.fic #request #steveshairspray #asks

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dark-and-kawaii · 1 month

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Thank you for writing such good breeding kink. 🫡 This war needs good soldiers like you. Raphael and Haarlep breeding is my actual kryptonite.

Bred By The Incubus & Devil

-Separate Stories-

Haarlep x f!Tav/Reader - Raphael x f!Tav/Reader

18+

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: You are so so so welcome!!! Thank you for the love and support you beautiful babe!!! I’m happy to provide!! And because we are both weak when it comes to Raphael & Haarlep breeding I wish to bestow this gift to you!!! xoxo have a beautiful day/night!!! I hope you enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ Raphael ♡⟡˙⋆

“Mmmm, Raphael?” You whispered, “My devil, I’m achy again.”

Your pregnancy was the result of his desire, his deliberate act of claiming you, breeding you until your form swelled with the successor he sired. The early arrival of your milk, too, unfolded by his command, for he would lavish attention upon you, coaxing the initial droplets into constant flows that ensured your thoughts were filled only with him, marking you unmistakably as his own.

Your hand drifted to one of your hard nipples, your breast so swollen it was already starting to leak. You whimpered quietly to yourself before nudging Raphael softly, “my king~” and he began to stir. You bit your lip while watching him, his hair disheveled, his brows furrowed, he was so beautiful like this, and it was a sight only for your eyes.

You leaned into his warmth, pressing a kiss against his collarbone and then the base of his neck, his scent so thick here. Your hips rocked slightly against his thigh, your heat slickening his leg.

You knew his cock was already hard, ever since you had given him the crown the thing always seemed to be hard when you were near him. It was like an unspoken instinct for him to fill you up with his seed, to make you round and fat with his child.

“Always such an eager little pup,” he teased, his voice still heavy with sleep. He moved without hurry, his movements precise and practiced as he pulled you on top of him, the way he liked you best.

It wasn't long before he was deep inside of you, filling you completely. You were still a little tight, but with your pregnancy and constant fucking, your body was quickly becoming accustomed to the intrusion.

You rocked back and forth, rolling your hips just the way he liked, the way that drove him absolutely wild. You gasped and moaned, his hand gripping your hips so tight they would certainly bruise later.

“Such an obedient mortal,” he said through gritted teeth.

You whimpered softly, his praise making you gush.

“Do you wish to cum, pup?” He asked, his voice teasingly soft.

You nodded, your hips never stopping their steady rhythm, “Ye-yes my l-love~ b-but my breasts~♡“ you panted and moaned.

He grinned, his smile devilish, “Please articulate your desires with grace. Should your request be presented with courtesy, I may be inclined to fulfill it, little mouse.”

You flushed a deep shade of red, the nickname he gave you only adding to the effect, his words were like fire on your skin, you could never get enough of them.

You took a breath, steadying yourself, before finally speaking, the words falling from your lips in a sweet song, like honey, “I- I wish for you to relieve me, my Archdevil~. I wish for you to taste the fruit of your labor, and drain the nectar from my breasts~.” Your cheeks were a deep red, embarrassed by the things he made you say.

Raphael smiled, he loved the way you submitted to him, the way you obeyed, the way you said what he wanted you to say. You were so perfect, so beautiful, and it was his will that you would remain by his side for eternity, his precious little mouse.

He had chosen you, after all.

He could have anyone, yet he chose you. Such a gift was not one to be taken lightly.

“Very well,” is all he said before you felt his tongue upon you, the flat of it gliding against the swollen skin, before his lips enclosed around the pert little bud. You moaned and writhed, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your hips moving erratically. The feeling of instant relief and ecstasy overwhelming you.

It was a taste Raphael would never grow tired of.

You tasted sweeter than the sweetest wine, better than any of the delicacies the world had to offer. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his mind drifting to the thoughts of impregnating you again after this child was born. Would you let him? You had no choice in the matter, he would take what he pleased, as he was entitled to do.

You were his and his alone.

You were his Queen.

His little mortal.

His precious, precious little mouse.

⋆˙⟡♡ Haarlep ♡⟡˙⋆

With Haarlep now accompanying you in Baldur's Gate, their presence by your side in public spaces became constant. The sight of strangers eyeing you as if you were available incensed them deeply. You belonged to Haarlep, solely theirs, and they were determined to make that clear to everyone in the city. If demonstrating their exclusive claim over you was what it took to deter prying eyes, then that was precisely what Haarlep would do...

Haarlep was relentless.

“Beg, little dove-" they hiss, hauling your legs up so easily to your chest, “beg to be filled yet again~”

“Hgh~ Haarlep! P-pleeeease~ ♡” you whined, tears rolling down your cheeks. The stretch was always unbearable at first but gods did it feel good once you grew accustomed to it.

The strong grip they had on you was definitely enough to bruise where their fingertips dug into your soft flesh, “Nhh’~ M-more, please~ F-fill me with your thick, hot cum~ ♡ P-please, I need it~ I wan’ it- Hhhngh~"

"They stare at you with such hunger-," his thick thighs heavy on your body, “but their precious savior belongs to an incubus,” Haarlep smirked, “a vile creation that feeds off of her soul and pleasure-“ another snap of their hips, “Would they still stare at you with such preying eyes if they knew what was about to be growing within you I wonder~”

Your eyes widen, a fresh wave of arousal and excitement washing over you.

"I'll make sure the whole city knows whose precious hole this is," the incubus hissed, a low chuckle in their throat, “that their hero was defiled by a fiend, impregnated by a creature of the Abyss~ How delicious indeed~”

In all truth, there's so much of Haarlep’s cum in you already, that you were probably bloated by now- at least you felt like you were. Haarlep had never been inclined towards gentleness, only on rare occasions… This was not one of those rare moments. This was about their sense of ownership over you, and it had escalated to unprecedented levels… Especially after watching a halfling man eyeing you for far too long for their liking…

Your little whines are enough to provoke a growl from the creature, sliding their stupidly large cock back into you, their thick body heavy against yours, “You are mine, my little dove~ Solely my hands have the right to claim you in such a manner, only I can elicit those cries of my name from you, hm?"

"M’yours~ All y-yours~" your hands reach out, gripping onto their biceps, trying to hold onto anything, trying to ground yourself.

Your body was shaking, the feeling of your cervix relentlessly fucked made you a whimpering mess, the only word you knew was their name, and even that was a struggle.

Your walls clench and cling to their thick, long cock when they pull back out before pushing in again, much faster, fucking their last load of cum into you again. The ring of cream around their cock and the wet, sloppy sound of their hips meeting yours was a filthy symphony.

Haarlep chuckled darkly, “You will look so radiant while bearing my offspring~"

It was a fantasy of yours, one you had only recently brought up with the creature .

"Hah- ah~ ♡!!”

It was all so perfect.

The sloppy sounds of your cunny being destroyed by an incubus, their threat- no, their promise to fill you with their hot seed until you were swollen with their child- children, your body covered in sweat, tears, and bruises. It was the life you wanted, the life you craved after bringing them back with you.

"I want all the devils of the nine hells and all the mortals in this realm to know just who you belong to!”

They noticed how your eyes fluttered back at the mere idea of bearing their child. It was a fresh fantasy Haarlep harbored and was eager to realize…

And so they did.

Again.

And again.

Three children later, your beauty and suitability for the incubus remained as impeccable as when they first made you theirs. Your abdomen, once again enlarged with another child they had sown within you, didn't diminish your allure.

Haarlep, with a smile at the vision of your curved abdomen, declared, “I will ensure that you always remember who reigns over you~”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #haarlep x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep x reader #bg3 smut

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roosterbruiser · 9 months

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𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘

“Do you think they’re gonna get too hot?” Bob asks, concern carving his voice into a pitched utterance. “Like--you know, is the sun too much? Should we just take ‘em home?”

Humming from beside Bob, settled onto the old sheets you have laid out across the sand, you just sigh with a fond smile tugging on your lips.

Of course he’s concerned about the babies in this heat--he’s a good father, one that never has to be told what to do or when to do it, one that literally leaps out of bed in the night to change diapers.

“They’re alright,” you assure Bob. “They’re covered! How could the sun get them at all?”

It’s true--the babies are thoroughly covered. Linen shorts and cotton shirts, floppy little sunhats, sunscreen covering every inch of them. Not to mention the umbrellas Bob has staked in the sand behind you--which casts shade over the entirety of your family.

“A freak accident,” Bob tells you, eyes slightly widened when he thinks about one of his precious babies--including you--getting burned. “Maybe we should--!”

“--Baby,” you interrupt, laughing as you glance at him from the top of your glasses. “It’s good that they’re outside! Immunity! Vitamin D! Fresh air! They’ll be alright!”

Bob sighs, glancing down at Jolene, who is sprawled out on your bent thighs, blinking in confusion at the floppy hat that just barely comes down over her eyes. Then he glances at Waylon, whose sound asleep on Bob’s thighs, little milk dribbling down his chin.

“It isn’t too late to tell them that they can meet us at the house,” Bob tells you. He looks up at the sky--endless blue and the sun a fiery hole puncturing the sky. “If we want to do that.”

“We don’t,” you assure him. “And, besides--I think it is too late.”

At that, Bob follows your gaze and turns. Yes--you’re right. It is too late. The squadron is already trailing down the beach, all in their aviators and swimming suits, grinning and zeroed in on yours and Bob’s beach setup.

“Oh, Lord,” Bob says softly, a fond smile tugging on his lips now. “Rooster’s gonna try and steal them, I think.”

“You’re only telling me this now?” You whisper, nudging him with your elbow teasingly.

He has told you before, though, about Rooster’s affinity for children. He can’t get enough of ‘em--he’s always hogging whatever admiral’s child he can get his hands on, playing airplanes or tea party or somehow getting them to nap. And you know, somehow, that Rooster is the goofy looking one with the unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt treading through the sand.

“Sorry, honey,” Bob chuckles.

You see how much this matters to Bob. Never mind that you know him better than anyone else in the world, having met in middle school and fallen in love straight away. Even if you didn’t know him better than anyone, if you were just a fly on the wall--you’d still know. He woke up too early this morning, pacing the kitchen as the coffee brewed, checking in on the twins every few minutes until he heard the first sounds of awakeness. He picked their outfits with you, chewing on his bottom lip. He had the car packed and ready to go before noon. He even called Phoenix a few times just to make sure that plans were still on--and was reminded, a few times, that the plans were absolutely still on.

“You’re shaking the beach,” you whisper, pressing a hand to his bouncing leg.

“Sorry,” Bob mutters, distracted. He stops bouncing his leg. “I’m…I’m really--!”

“--Nervous,” you finish for him, leaning forward to press your warm cheek against his bicep. You kiss him there, soft and sweet, and then sigh. “It’s alright, Bobby. The babies are perfect, the squadron loves you, I’m very personable, the sun is shining, the seagulls are crying! Everything’s gonna be okay!”

“Yeah,” Bob sighs, scratching his head and giving you a quick peck on the forehead. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’m just--I don’t know. This is important to me.”

“I know it,” you say, heart swollen. “And I know it’s important to them, too. It’ll be good!”

“It’ll be good,” Bob repeats softly, glancing at you. You’re grinning at him--it makes his shoulders sink. “It’ll be good.”

“Well, well, well,” Hangman says as his feet sink into the hot, hot sand. He grins, squinting even behind his aviators as the sun beats down on his face. “If it ain’t baby on board and his babies on board.”

Bob grins at the sound of Jake’s voice--which surprises him, really. Before that never would’ve happened. But now Bob is back in Lemoore, with you and your babies, and everything feels distinctly better than it did before.

“Hangman,” Bob grins, sticking his hand out for Jake to take. “Good to see you, man.”

Hangman, who’s holding two comically large stuffed rabbits, shuffles to put them under one arm and take Bob’s hand in his.

“How goes it?” Jake asks. Then he glances at you--you’re grinning at him, holding your daughter still. “And this must be the Missus, huh? Pleasure to make your acquaintance!”

Jake crosses the sheets to take your hand, which he promptly brings to his mouth to kiss.

“Don’t mind him,” Rooster says as he appears, toting a cooler and a speaker. “The lack of oxygen in the cockpit really scrambled his brain.”

“Ha-ha-ha,” Hangman says, glancing at Rooster. “Did Bob tell you that Rooster is gonna try and steal them?” Jake asks, pointing to the babies with his brow perched.

“Actually, yes,” you answer, smiling softly. “He did.”

Rooster, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, sets the cooler in the sand before grinning at Bob and stretching his hands out.

“Baby me and I’ll beer you,” Rooster says.

“That doesn’t sound like a fair exchange,” Phoenix sighs, rounding out to clap Rooster on the shoulder before grinning at Bob and you. “Floyds!”

“Hey, Nat,” Bob grins. “How are you?”

“Oh, she’s great,” Payback answers, wiping sweat off his forehead as he sets his beach chair in the sand. “Super, even!”

“She got the aux in the van,” Fanboy explains, resting his elbow on Payback’s shoulder. “Two words: Def Leppard.”

“Lemme see those babies!” Coyote’s voice booms as he jogs up and rounds out the squadron. He’s grinning a broad grin, arms already outstretched.

“Hey, I already called dibs!” Rooster says.

“Yeah, but I got here first,” Hangman grins.

Everyone looks at Bob like he’s the tie-breaker.

“There’s only two of them,” Bob says, laughing quietly.

“You’re gonna have to choose,” Rooster says seriously.

“Here,” you suggest, leaning forward to put Jolene in Hangman’s extended arms. “Take one and pass it on.”

Everyone laughs--it’s music to Bob’s ears. He watches you carefully transfer Jolene into Hangman’s arms, watches him turn absolutely gooey at the sight of your infant daughter. He cups her little head, holds her close to him, grins down at her. You readjust her sunhat and then lean back.

“Oh, she’s too cute,” Hangman says, shaking his head seriously. “Rooster, you’re definitely gonna want to take this one.”

“Here,” Bob says, suddenly feeling more confident in his squadron’s ability than before. He leans forward and bestows Waylon upon Rooster, smiling softly and fondly as he Waylon coos and begins to blink himself awake. “You’re a natural.”

Rooster, delighted, sinks into the sand and holds Waylon close to him.

“Oh, I know,” he says--cocksure as ever. “Look at this little fella. Boy, does he look like a Floyd!”

“Yes,” you agree, laughing. “My DNA didn’t even try.”

As Hangman and Rooster hog the babies, everyone makes their rounds. You shake everyone’s hands, finally put faces to names, and collect all the presents for the babies and yourself. Bob keeps a watchful eye on the babies, but not because he’s stressed--but because he’s enamored that he has two perfect little beings to share with the important people in his life.

The afternoon drifts forward. Your little spot on the beach becomes the spot on the beach, everyone spreading their blankets out and overlapping, coolers abundant and drinks icy. The babies get passed around, hardly even fussing, but always somehow end up back in Rooster’s arms.

Even when everyone decides to get up and toss the pigskins, Rooster ends up staying on the palette with you and Bob and the babies. He’s somehow holding them both at the same time, grinning down at them as they blink up at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Hangman had said to Rooster, rolling his eyes. “A giant, gushy, manchild.”

“Proud of it,” Rooster had said, cheeks pink.

“They really like you,” you tell Bradley, sighing softly. “I’m still getting used to having all this help, you know? I’m a bit mind-blown right now.”

“Well, I’m here for any babysitting services,” Rooster says. “Hell, I’ll pay you!”

“You’re my favorite already,” you tell Rooster.

Bob looks at you--you’re smiling softly at Rooster and the babies. Your eyes are heavy and your back is curved and he knows that you’re that special kind of tired that is special to new motherhood. Bob understands. He knows. But his heart still squeezes at your sentence. He had to leave only two weeks after they were born, which broke his heart and yours. Of course, because you’re you, you’d put on a very brave face for him. But there were a few times--a few more times than Bob is comfortable with--when you answered his call with a tearful sniffle and a deep sigh.

He reminds himself, as he gazes at you, that things are different now. He’s home for a while--and even after that, he’ll be close to home for the foreseeable future. He’ll never miss bath time or dinner or storytime. He’ll be here, beside you, through it all.

“They really are beautiful,” Rooster tells the both of you. He looks between the two of you, tired and unsure parents with glittering eyes and soft smiles. “You’re doing a damn fine job of it.”

“Thanks, man,” Bob says. “It’s all her.”

You have to swallow hard and roll your eyes, nudging him, to keep from crying pure tears of joy.

Rooster gasps suddenly. “Okay, don’t call me crazy, but I swear to God that Jolene just smiled at me!” He says, elated. “Oh, God. Hangman’s gonna be so pissed.”

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unholybacon355 · 3 months

Text

Notes to self

Male Reader X Jihyo

Word Count: 1.1K

A/N This short fic was inspired by this pic. Since I saw it for the first time I could help but write this. Hope you enjoy reading it.

You were woken up by the sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand. Although it had already dawned many hours ago, you were still sleeping, the job you had allowed you that kind of small luxuries. With half-closed eyes you checked the phone and could see that you had a new message from your wife, Jihyo. Slowly what you were reading woke you up completely.

The first message was a photo of your wife taken in front of a mirror, apparently in a mall bathroom. Jihyo donned a two-piece white semi-sports outfit, made of a material that appeared to be knitted. She looked magnificent, but more importantly, the strands of the fabric were far enough apart that you could see some skin under the garments. And although the outfit left her wonderful abdomen completely free, that small amount of skin that showed through was exciting. Although to be honest what caught your attention in the photo were the two brown shades that were visible at the height of your wife's chest, and that were clearly her nipples.

“Hello Baby” the message said. “Do you like what I'm wearing today? It's very comfortable and cool, you know I don't like the heat. That's why I didn't wear a bra. I hate how my boobs get all sweaty for no reason. But… The problem is that anyone can see my nipples if they are brave enough to take a closer look at my boobs. I bet that turns you on a lot.”

The truth was, if it turned you on that anyone could see your wife's huge brown nipples. She was an exhibitionist and she loved that very much, but you usually liked to be present when she did it. Especially when she wanted to give you a blowjob in some corner a little out of the way, but exposed enough to get caught; or when she asked you to hug her and stick a finger up her ass in the middle of a night walk. You loved that dirty side of your wife.

"Honey." Jihyo continued. “Luckily I decided to wear cute panties today. I feel demure enough not to show my hair down there.” No sooner had you finished reading the message than a new one arrived. It was a video of her in front of the same mirror, but this time her pants were out of the frame, as she had pulled them down to expose her thick thighs. You could see how she played with the line of the panties, lowering it just a little enough so that some of the hairs escaped from the well-kept bush that she had between her legs. She then turned around to show her huge butt to the camera. However her white underwear was not small at all, it was clearly seen how her ass engulfed her garment. Her beautiful buttocks were fully exposed. The video ended with your wife spanking herself a couple of times and making her own flesh jiggle.

By this time you were already hard as a diamond, but something in you told you that you shouldn't do anything to release your arousal. Jihyo liked to provoke you to get the most out of you, she liked to be the one who milked your milk. Which is why you only stroked your shaft a few times and put it back in your underwear.

The screen showed that she was writing again, and you were waiting to see what she was going to send you next. “Do you like that everyone can see me? Baby. I bet the idea that anyone can see me turns you on, I bet you're already hard and jerking off. Do you like Mommy being a whore in public? Do you like how I show my tits and ass but you can't touch them? Oh Love, I think I'm getting wet, I need someone to play with my boobs… Give me a sec.” You waited for what seemed like forever until a new video came through. Now your wife had her pants on again but she had pulled her top up so her boobs hung free. She was playing with her hard nipples, kneading her tits herself, giving herself the attention that no one else could at that moment. The sight of those huge brown nipples made you salivate like crazy, you wanted to have them in your mouth like when she rides you. “Babe…” she said quietly as she set her phone down on the sink to keep both hands free. "I need you." Now she was kneading both breasts at once, and you could see the need for her on her face.” I'm so wet, I need you sucking on my nipples and fingering my tight ass.” What you saw next was the most amazing thing yet and the most risky thing she had ever done considering she was in a public restroom and anyone could walk in. She turned around, still with her tits in the air, she lowered her pants again along with her underwear; and she spread her buttocks as far as she could.

In front of you was the beautiful view of your wife fully exposed in a public restroom. Anyone could walk through that door, anyone could walk in and see her big tits hanging off, her fully exposed ass, her gleaming pussy slit on camera. The idea that anyone could see her throbbing asshole wide open ready to be penetrated, was playing havoc with your mind. you were really trying so hard not to touch yourself with the image of her, of hers nice wet pussy of hers, but you wanted to save your cum for when she came home.

Jihyo spread her buttocks for a few more seconds while she wiggled her ass before rearranging her clothes and cutting the video. You waited another brief moment to give her time to write a new message. In all this time you had not written a single word, but you knew that she was aware that you were reading her. Otherwise the tone of the messages would not have risen so much. Finally another message arrived and this one was totally different. "I'll keep shopping, see you later." Was all she said, but the screen showed that she was still typing. “I'm going to buy you something nice. I love you very much. Save that milk for Mommy, you fucking pervert” She finished contrasting her loving side with that dirty final part. And so your wife left you with a huge boner, the biggest in a long time, and not being able to touch you for the rest of the day.

#twice smut #jihyo smut #twice x reader #male reader #male reader smut #jihyo x male reader #jihyo x reader #fanfic

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libby-for-life · 1 month

Note

pregnant Adam and yandere Lucifer need I say more

This is the last of Lucifer's Solution. Hope you guys like it.

Lucifer's Solution Part 3

Lucifer bit his lip as he gazed at his beloved lamb. He had gotten so big, his stomach growing to help hold the baby. His breasts had grown too, heavy with milk. Currently, Lucifer was massaging them for Adam, who was moaning his name. "Do you like that, Adam?" He said with a smirk as he accidentally tweaked his nipples.

His lamb let out a guttural moan, drool falling out of the corner of his mouth. His pain was turning to pleasure.

"Do you think if I pulled hard enough milk will come out?"

Adam whimpered, glassy eyes looking at him with pure adoration mixed with desperation. "Should we test it?" Lucifer teased with a smirk. It held a bit of his sadistic nature. He was the devil after all.

"Ah~! Wait—" But Lucifer didn't let him finish as he continued. "Apparently, you're supposed to squeeze," he demonstrated by grabbing his two bountiful breasts and did just that.

Adam let out a squeal that sounded like a bleat, his cheeks flushed the loveliest shade of gold. "And then, you pull."

Adam let out a string of please and his begging sounded so pretty as Lucifer gently but firmly pulled and squeezed on his treasure. He did this for a while, he couldn't help but lap up the delicious noises his lamb made, and fake pouted when nothing came.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. Lucifer smirked as he swiped a finger into his lamb's special honey pot and chuckled. "I suppose I milked you in a way." He made sure that Adam was watching as he sucked his release off his fingers obscenely.

Adam whimpered, biting his lip.

"Are we feeling better, dear?"

Adam nodded. "Fuck, that felt good." He muttered. Lucifer hummed in satisfaction and snapped his fingers. A warm bowl of scented water and a soft washcloth appeared on the bed. "Let me clean you off." Adam nodded with a tired gaze as he watched his partner clean him.

"I still can't believe I got pregnant. Charlie said it was rare for demons to grow entirely new anatomy after spending so long in Hell with no prior signs."

Lucifer shrugged. "You've always been special."

Adam preened at that. His little lamb didn't need to know the details of how got pregnant. The important thing was that they were happy now. They had a new baby boy coming along. Adam was actually excited after the first few months of being depressed were out of the way. Lucifer supposed having your body change that dramatically was a bit traumatic, but Adam got over it eventually like Lucifer knew he would.

And now, he had Adam right where he wanted him.

Hope this was good!

#yandere lucifer #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #send asks #oneshot #smut

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lemonlover1110 · 9 months

Text

Baby Steps

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] Seiji's Other Grandparents

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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The apartment is completely chaotic when Megumi and Tsumiki move in. Satoru is the one that handles everything. Packing everything up and unloading it into the spare bedroom. It’s a bit hectic, making sure Megumi and Tsumiki feel comfortable in their new space. Also dealing with a newborn baby as well.

Not only is all of this springing on you, but also the fact that you’re preparing to meet Satoru’s parents. You begin to get ready, preparing a dinner that you hope they’ll like. Satoru tries to get you to go out, but you use Seiji as an excuse. You don’t want to go out.

“Seiji’s crying.” Megumi announces, walking from the bedroom to the living room to drown out the cries of the baby. Megumi adores Seiji but he absolutely hates the sound of the baby’s cries.

“Yeah, thanks.” You respond, a bit annoyed because you can hear the baby screaming. But Megumi doesn’t know any better, you know that. You’re trying your best to make sure everything is perfect for this dinner, and it’s quite hard when you have a crying baby. “Satoru, Seiji is screaming!”

“He left.” Tsumiki informs you, causing you to sigh as you put down the spoon that you hold. You run to Seiji’s nursery and go to the crying baby. You undo his swaddle, and while you usually smile at his big stretch, this time you’re too stressed about finishing everything up.

“Where the fuck is your father when you need him?” You ask the baby. You know Seiji needs a bath, however, adding more things to do to your list is the last thing you need. You need a bath too. You can’t help but kiss Seiji’s chubby cheeks before you pick him up from the crib and walk out of the nursery. Walking to the living room, you watch as Satoru walks into the front door with some bags. Today was the worst day for him to decide to go grocery shopping. Satoru smiles at you, taking off his shades. “Take the baby. Give him a bath.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru responds, putting the bags down on the kitchen counter before taking Seiji from your arms. Satoru sniffs the baby head before he presses a kiss on it. “My sweet baby.”

You go back to the kitchen to continue the dinner, and while you’re focused on assembling the food, you fail to notice Tsumiki coming to your side. You’re startled when she opens her mouth, “Do you need any help?”

“No, baby, go play with your dolls.” You tell her, looking down at her. She looks a bit confused, and you pat the top of her head before smiling at her, “I got this, honey. Go play with your brother.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, and you hum in response. She walks away and you try your best to finish assembling the dish before you finally are able to pop it into the oven. You’re about to rush to the other bathroom to take a shower, knowing that Satoru’s parents will get here soon, but you hear the doorbell ring.

“Satoru, can you answer the door!” You yell, not wanting to greet his parents while you’re like this. You’re a complete mess, and even you feel like the word doesn’t begin to cover it. Your shirt is stained with milk, baby spit, tomato sauce– You can’t even keep up with the stains on your shirt. You know Satoru is still busy bathing Seiji, so you have no option but to walk out of the bathroom, picking a clean shirt and changing out as fast as you can before going to the front door. You take a deep breath before you open the door.

When you open the door, you find Satoru’s parents and immediately feel underdressed– You knew that you were going to be underdressed, you just didn’t expect his parents to look like this. Their clothes are simple yet they look so good. You hope that they’re just some older couple that knocked on the wrong door, but it’s clear who they are.

His mother has the same exact hair color as Satoru and big brown eyes, and by the looks of it, Satoru favors her in looks; you wish that as Seiji grows older he begins to look more like that, but you doubt it. His father has graying black hair, and the same blue eyes that your son inherited. They’re looking you up and down, clearly judging you by your stylistic choice. You’re wearing leggings and a gray v-neck shirt, which is definitely not what they were expecting.

“I’m sorry, we must be in the wrong apartment.” His mother says, and your face gets warm of embarrassment. You clear your throat before you say,

“No. You’re in the right place. Mr. and Mrs. Gojo?” You watch as they slowly nod. They aren’t really sure why they’re here, Satoru just told them that he wanted to introduce them to a special someone, and they assume that’s you… You’re just so underwhelming. You introduce yourself before you tell them, “Please come in.”

“Uh…” They hesitantly walk into the apartment, and immediately they’re met with the sounds of Tsumiki and Megumi arguing. Luckily, they know that they’re not your kids since Satoru had told them about the kids that he started taking care of. They walk to the couch and take a seat, searching for their son.

“Tsumiki, Megumi, settle down. Or start fighting in your bedroom.” You tell the fighting siblings, and the pair cross their arms. Tsumiki dramatically turns before walking to the bedroom while Megumi chooses to sit down in the loveseat of the living room. Satoru’s parents look uncomfortable, his dad having his hands on his knees, while his mother overall looks tense.

“Where’s Satoru?” His mother asks, and just as the question leaves her lips, they hear Satoru in the hallway.

“Who’s a clean baby now? You are, yes you are.” says Satoru in a stupid baby voice. His parents look at each other, confused as to what they hear.

“Satoru! Your parents are here!” You yell, hoping that the man will come faster to save you from this awkwardness. Maybe Satoru was right and his parents didn’t have to meet you nor Seiji. Satoru’s parents look at each other, trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a seat next to Megumi, and you patiently wait for Satoru to walk out to the living room.

“So um–” His mother begins, and before she can finish her sentence, Satoru makes his appearance, holding baby Seiji. Baby Seiji wears an orange and blue romper with a giraffe on it. Satoru is grinning as he holds the baby. Satoru’s parents eyes widen when they see Satoru holding a baby.

“Hi. Aren’t you two a little early?” Satoru asks, his parents completely shocked. They stare at baby Seiji, and Satoru apologizes, “Where are my manners? Mom, dad, this is my son. Seiji.”

They take a moment to stare at the baby as Satoru holds him down to their level. White hair, blue eyes– Not only those characteristics but the fact that the baby looks just like Satoru when the latter was a baby.

“You have a son?” His mother asks, looking at Seiji. Her eyes shift back and forth between her grandson and her son. Well, she certainly doesn’t need to see a DNA test.

“Well I certainly didn’t pick him up from the streets. Isn’t that right, Megumi?” Satoru jokes, and Megumi furrows his brows. He’s caught off guard.

“Huh– Hey!” The boy yells when he finally gets it. Satoru’s parents really don’t know how to react– This is something that they should’ve known about before Seiji was born. But they are glad that they get to meet the baby.

“Why are we just finding out?” His father asks, trying to take the baby from Satoru’s arms but Satoru doesn’t allow it. Satoru walks over to you and takes a seat next to you. You look at your baby, smiling at him, and your heart melts when Seiji smiles back at you. Satoru’s father is pointing at you, trying to come up with words but he’s too astonished to say anything. Until he’s finally able to say, “So you’re the mother of our grandbaby.”

“I am.” You sheepishly smile as you admit it. The air around you is beyond awkward, although you weren’t expecting anything else. “I wanted to tell you sooner but… I couldn’t have contacted you.”

“Are you a sorcerer? Do you come from a clan?” Satoru’s mother asks, and you blink slowly. It’s nice to know that Satoru’s occupation isn’t made up. You shake your head. She raises her brows, “Do you see curses?”

“I don’t…” You shake your head. You take a deep breath before you say, “Satoru told me what they are though.”

“Alright…” Her lips are pursed together. There’s so many things to ask, and she doesn’t know where to start. But to begin with, she wants to hold her cute grandson.

“Um… I am making dinner.” You announce as you take Seiji from Satoru’s arms. “Could you please set the table?”

Satoru doesn’t waste a second, standing up to do as he’s told. You stand up as well, smiling at his parents. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Yes.” His mother responds. You walk over to her and hand her the baby. Her features soften up as she holds her grandson, same as Satoru’s father. You really don’t understand why he wanted to keep the baby a secret, they seem to be taking it well, but considering that Satoru was hiding a big part of his life from you, he had no option but to keep it quiet so his secrets wouldn’t spill. “Oh, he looks just like Satoru.”

“I wish he didn’t.” You joke, and they both laugh. Satoru’s about to yell something, but he can’t help but smile as he listens to the interaction.

Dinner went better than expected, and after getting the kids to sleep, Satoru is trying to cuddle with you in the bedroom. You’re focused on your phone, not paying much attention to what he has to say. You’re laying on your side, and Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, his head resting on your arm, watching what you do on your phone.

“Can I ask you something?” Satoru speaks up, and you hum in response. He waits for you to turn off your phone and give him just a bit of attention, but you don’t. “Why are you so distant?”

“Distant?” You respond, finally putting the phone down. Satoru’s head stops laying on your arm. He sits up on the bed, and you do the same. You try to act confused, but he’s right, you are distant. “What do you mean?”

“It just feels like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me unless it’s about Seiji.” Satoru confesses, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. You have so many emotions bottled up, and you don’t really want to share them. “And maybe I’m just reading things wrong–”

“You’ve just kept so much hidden from me, and that’s upset me. You didn’t even care to explain until my life was in danger. Also the whole dating Leiko thing… I just haven’t had the time to process it all because I’m focused on Seiji.” You answer, and he understands where you’re coming from even though he’s so impatient.

“You do know that the whole thing with Leiko was a sham, right?” Satoru tells you. “I just wanted to protect you, even if it meant hurting your feelings and putting her in danger.”

“I know, Satoru. It’s still a lot to take in.” You answer, laying on your side again and using your phone. Satoru kisses your cheek.

“Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting here.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojou satoru x you #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo fanfic #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo saturo

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samcat18 · 1 year

Text

Since my friend started book club in june of 2020, i've not dnf'ed any of our books, but hoo am i close this month. It's the first book i didn't vote for in the poll, and it's just not a style or ship that i enjoy. Like. I'm gonna finish it, but i'm having to force myself to spend time listening to it, and that is very unpleasant in and of itself 😩

#about the samcat #book club #why couldn't we have picked shades of milk and honey this is the bad timeline #i will say i have several book club books i could have dnf'ed and been better for it so we'll see if this is the first #whine whine complain complain

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holdinbacksecrets · 9 months

Text

smitten

college soccer player!jeonghan part 3

part 1 part 2

“hey, i haven’t seen you all day.”

your roommate stands in the doorway to your bedroom, finding you at your desk drowning in assignments and the final draft of your midterm.

“i was at the library all morning trying to get this paper done. is everything ok?”

she’s wearing a blue bow identical to the one left on your dresser that morning. her skirt matches its deep shade, and you realize it’s quickly approaching 7pm.

“of course! it’s game day. i wanted to tell you you don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to. hana—i think you know her… choppy bangs, green eyes—apparently she’s smitten, so she wants to join me or us if you’re still interested.”

lia’s eyebrows raise, and you can tell she’s hoping you’re still interested, but she’s worried about dragging you along while on pursuit of a boy as if that would ever bother you, as if your own footsteps and love-covered fingertips haven’t submerged into your own version of a boy pursuit.

“i am. i was going to take a shower within the next ten minutes. we still have an hour right?”

she smiles, nodding excitedly. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”

“before you go, who does hana like?”

lia’s smile widens, and she runs her fingertip along the length of your door, swiping vibrant blue polish across a striking white. “jeonghan.”

your heart sinks and melts into the acidic jealousy existing in the pit of your stomach. jeonghan? jeonghan… of course.

you feel deflated as you approach the bathroom, reaching for your towel before switching the light on.

the last thing you want is for this to get complicated. if hana makes a move, what are you supposed to do? for all you know, you’ll be standing beside the girl for two hours, listening to whatever smitten sounds like and pretending you didn’t dream about the same man the previous night or stare at his message about bandaids and lollipops… smitten.

shampoo stings your eyes while you contemplate sharing your own feelings for jeonghan with lia. she’s pushed you a little bit, knowing your history of having interest in athletes, but the years of your friendship have taught her a few things. those things include only sharing what you want to and keeping things close to your chest. your heart is as far from your sleeve as it can get, tucked away safely in the dark warmth within your chest. of course jeonghan has started to shine rays of light, creating beautiful sunbeams and beginning to swell what’s been hibernating in its safety zone.

lia is perched at the bar stool eating a bowl of cereal when you leave your bedroom. she quickly takes a look at your outfit, happy to see a bow of your own pinned to your jacket. your denim shorts have blue ruffles stitched along the curve of each pocket, and you can feel the familiar rush of anticipation. nothing beats an october night, with it’s comforting chill and the scene of a game only a short walk away. you look forward to these evenings all year. jeonghan is the best part, unexpectedly so.

“i didn’t touch the honey bunches of oats. there’s only enough for one more bowl if you’re hungry.”

“thanks, lee.”

you top the cereal off with milk and eye your roommate nervously, hoping she’ll pick up on your desire to say something. you’ve never been good at sharing feelings, especially when you’re afraid of stepping on another’s toes.

“i can feel you staring me down. is there something on my face or on your mind?”

lia palms her bowl, bringing the ceramic to her lips to savor the perfectly sweetened milk before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“this season, i’ve never felt like your tag along. you like seokmin, but i’d still go even if you didn’t. even if i didn’t like someone else on the team, i would still go.” members of your family have played the sport for as long as you can remember. in your life, fall doesn’t exist without a soccer ball.

lia doesn’t jump in. you hoped she would push you just a little further, but this is all on you.

“yoon jeonghan is in my environmental ethics course, and we’ve established some kind of unexpected friendship, but my feelings are stronger than that. about hana… i don’t know if there’s anything going on between them. the last thing i want to do is make anyone uncomfortable or embarrass myself.”

lia smiles, but you miss the softness in her expression, watching your cereal float instead.

“you don’t need to worry about hana. she picks a new guy every week, and she’d certainly turn her focus to someone else tonight if you tell her about jeonghan.”

lia taps the counter, earning your gaze. “thank you for telling me. i’m trying to keep my composure, but please know i’m internally squealing and running around the counter to hug you. now, finish your cereal. i’m sure someone is excited to see you.”

the sun begins to set as you walk through campus. you can see the lights from the field come into view, and lia squeezes your hand. she’s always been a cherished friend and supporter, and relief has embraced you knowing the feelings you’ve kept quiet are now a secret shared.

hana is standing beside the ticket counter and waves when she notices the two of you. not a single speck of blue is found on her outfit, but lia quickly pulls a bow from her purse, securing it in her friend’s hair.

after the three of you have paid, hana asks where you two usually sit.

“this one likes to sit at the top so she can see the entire field.” guilty.

“the boys can see you better from the front.”

lia bites her lip but guides the three of you to the middle row, keeping the viewing peace.

both teams are warming up, and your eyes settle on the field while hana and lia chat beside you. you catch bits of the conversation, amused by your roommate’s monologue about how much seokmin’s hair has grown since their last home game.

then, you see him, and your lips part. you lean forward and zero in.

he’s mesmerizing. watching him feels like the sweetest treat.

his dribbling matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, and your lips spread into something consumed by pride, admiration, and hopeful desire.

his confidence has never gone unnoticed, even in its subtly, but it radiates when he’s wearing cleats, his uniform and is existing on the forest green turf.

you’re silent for the first quarter, clapping when it’s appropriate to do so, mouthing calls as the referees blow their whistles, nodding along to the ones you deem just.

the second quarter is smooth. your team is taking the lead: 1-0, and the reaction from lia at the sight of seokmin’s assist is something worth remembering.

she kissed your cheek, asking twice: “did you see that?!”, before heading down the stairs for popcorn.

hana slides across the bench to close the space between you as half time starts. her voice is just above a whisper, “lia told me about jeonghan, so any cheering i do tonight is for choi seungcheol.” she sends you a wink and you nod, feeling a weight leave your shoulders.

during the final quarter, the blue hawks are sailing, and you nearly miss it. your eyes were fixed on the bag of popcorn only seconds prior, but you see him when you’re pleased with the amount of the salty snack in your cupped palm.

it’s jeonghan’s corner kick, in the corner closest to you, and you see him search the stands before landing on your figure. he smiles, and brushes his fingers across his shirt, mirroring where your bow is clipped to your jacket. cute, he mouths before turning to face the field again.

“holy shit.”

“he’s all yours, babe.”

after the game has ended, students start to leave while others who know players stick around, creating small packs around the fence. the three of you stay in the stands until the team exits their huddle.

hana waves quickly, sending you a knowing wink before running down the bleachers. lia pats your knee. she practiced words of admiration for seokmin that morning in the bathroom mirror. you give her a final good luck before she sets off down the metal stairs.

time ticks by and it’s just you now. the soccer fans have left, and jeonghan is one of the last players on the field. you watched him take the bag of soccer balls to the shed behind the field, finding yourself admiring the stars while you waited.

the sound of your name shifts your stare, and you find him leaning against the railing.

“i should’ve given you my practice jersey.”

you stand and descend the bleachers, approaching the man with reddened cheeks and messy hair.

“what would that’ve made me?”

he smiles, and you want him to say it.

“i imagine you’re going to be much more than a good luck charm.”

“you don’t need one.”

“i have my superstitions.”

“oh really? do you have a couple marbles in your pockets?”

jeonghan’s cleats meet the pavement, and he waits for you before heading toward the main campus.

“i didn’t think about that.”

“i guess all the marbles are in your schedule…. probably wouldn’t do you any good to keep more in your pocket.”

“mmm, i think you’re on to something.”

“and i guess if i keep coming…”

“if you keep coming, we’ll keep winning, and eventually i’ll ask you to go on a date with me.”

“but you’re going to keep it open— unknown and leave me with anticipation.”

jeonghan laughs— no, it’s more like a giggle that penetrates your skin and finds the shelter where your heart lives, shining the most light it’s seen since you experienced the ocean three years ago.

“i’m not going to leave it open.”

he stops beneath the streetlamp. you’re in front of snow hall, where this all started.

“saturday night, can i take you on a date?”

his eyes are sparkling, and this man has far more than sunbeams. he has stars too.

“yes, of course you can.”

“as long as you’re alright with comedy shows.”

“i’ve never been.”

the look in his eyes is intriguing, and you have no doubt you’re about to be introduced to something magical.

“boo seungkwan knows how to put on a show, and i cannot wait to take you.”

his gaze shifts to the bow on your jacket, and you swear his expression melts. sore muscles are easy to ignore when you’re in front of him with exciting possibilities existing in your eyes and smile.

he’ll certainly fall in love with you.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen drabbles #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan au #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fic #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan drabble

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targaryennumberonelover · 1 year

Text

Betrothed.

Summary: In which reader is from the north (house Glover), but is betrothed to Daemon, and is annoyed of the southron ladies at court, and gets very excited to see Cregan Stark when he visits from the North as it reminds her of home. Reader spends a great deal of time with Cregan, who is a very pleased guest, almost completely ignoring her betrothed. This prompts Daemon's jealousy, because who else can have you but him?

Notes: This wound up being fairly vanilla. Also my first proper, non-crack fic. Also my first time on this app + first time writing Daemon; so yay! Big milestone. Saw some other stories on this app and got inspired (+love the font). Idk how to write short stories, so girl is long + very loosely spell/grammar checked (should be ok but some parts might be odd). I personally love the northern reader concept lol, hope y'all enjoy.

Warnings: swearing, canon-typical misogyny, Daemon Targaryen (man needs a whole warning, bffr)

In Deepwood Motte you detested late summer snows, they ate away the summer of your early childhood. You always envied Winterfell for the boiling water that runs through the castle walls; and rejoiced each time your house stayed as guests there. What you had envied most, as a babe, was warmth of the south. Now, however, that you had arrived in the southron lands, you missed those late summer snows terribly.

The south was unbearably hot, you'd have servants delivering you iced milk each day, and too often would you remind them to keep it unsweetened. The heat was not half as over bearing as the ladies of court and all their gossip. Back home, there was scarcely any gossip or other wasteful activities. You spent your youth being educated by the septa, learning the lady ways, and once you came of age, you spent your time putting those ways into practice.

The southron ladies always bragged of their luxuries, which were considered nonsensical in the north, their sweets and silks and careless grandeur. It was draining, sickening, even. Even ever modest Queen Alicent, soon to be your sister by law, would agree with the court ladies when they offered you a sweet as though it was an thing utterly unknown to your northern self, and on occasion would ask you to try a tart or cake she enjoyed.

The only person's company you could find peace in this blasted place was your betrothed, Daemon Targaryen. He was not overbearing, was not mocking of your northernness, but rather found common aspects in your values. Often, you two would walk together, and when there was a moment of respite from both of your busy schedules, he would take you to the skies on the back of Caraxes. You'd even visited Dragonstone, once, but most briefly.

Today was no different. The summer sun bore down over King's Landing, and despite the lush shade provided by the garden plants and sandy canopies that were stretched over head, you were hot. Despite the thick honey, you sipped on the iced milk gratefully, and made a mental reminder to gift the poor servants who fanned you generously later.

"These cakes are quite nice," one of the southron ladies said, sliding over a plate full of thick, layered cakes that smelt so strongly of sugar you might've smelt them when Daemon offered you a ride on Caraxes, leagues in the sky. You'd much rather be on Caraxes, with Daemon holding you close, leagues in the sky rather than here. You wished he would come and save you, but alas, you were stuck between a rock and several smothering southerners.

You smiled politely and took the smallest bite of one. "You're right, my lady, these are quite... tasty." You lick your lips, and are momentarily forlorn when there's nothing unsweet to remove the thick taste from your mouth.

Another southron lady seems to remember something, and rushes to finish her bite, fanning her hand in the air to invite our attention to her. "Have you heard?" She asks once she has swallowed, "lady [name], this would be of great interest to you, the good northfolk, like yourself, are coming to the Keep for a visit."

Despite the almost taunting way she says 'northfolk,' you find yourself intrigued. "Which house?" You ask, and your curiosity is not unheard. They seem to hold back snickers as another one of the ladies reply.

"The House Stark, and their party." She says, smugly, though you are lost as to why. It baffles you further how they regard the Starks, the wardens of the north, so casually. Did they not realise that every northern house beyond the neck swore their fealty to the Starks? The negative thoughts do not linger long, for you can't help but be excited at the thought of seeing Cregan Stark once more. In your childhood you had become acquainted with him, and his lord father offered your father a place on his table on several occasions, and later on he did the same.

You smile, widely, and ask, "do you know when they are to arrive?"

The southron ladies seem to look amongst each other for a moment, and it is Queen Alicent who replies from behind us. "They are to arrive on the morrow, Lady [Name]." You did not notice her arrival, and all seem to turn and stand to greet her.

"Queen Alicent," you exclaim, rising to bow to her. "I must excuse myself, I'm afraid I must prepare to see my fellow northfolk. I must catch you at court later, your grace." You give the ladies of court a small nod, before slipping away the way Alicent had came, glad to find respite from the suffocation of court.

The following morning you had dressed more northernly than you had in your entire stay here. You wore a gown with grey over white, with slim fur trimming, little enough that you wouldn't boil. It felt pleasant to be wearing northern colours once more, over the golds and silvers and silky things the south fashioned themselves in. You even found an old pin with the gauntlet of Glover on it, and wore it most proudly as you broke your fast with the court ladies. It was boring and tiresome, as it usually was, but you braved on without complaint and with a smile until, finally, the word came the Starks had arrived.

It took you little time to find yourself in the vast throne room, standing happily by Daemon, your sweet betrothed, awaiting Cregan Stark and his party. It had been nearly two years since you had last seen the Lord of Winterfell, never finding cause to visit before your betrothal, and finding it impossible to do so after.

"Eager, are we?" Daemon hums, noting your excitement. You do not make it difficult. You're practically jumping up and down in anticipation.

You look up at him with a small chuckle, "yes, I'm afraid so." You say, looking down the length of the throne room, a tad disappointed when there are no northerners marching down the hall. "Whilst the south has it's certain... qualities, it has been difficult not to miss the north."

Daemon only chuckles, seemingly amused by both your enthusiasm and desire not to offend any southerners by your distaste for their society.

When the Starks arrive, murmurs flutter around the hall for a moment, then spread madly like wildfire. They come down the hallway, proud and honourable as the Starks are, and bow down to their king and his new queen. There are compliments exchanged, and brief conversation, all the while you're teetering away, waiting for a moment to greet Cregan Stark; when it finally comes, it feels like you are back home.

"It is good of you to make the trip, Lord Stark," you smile as you speak, "not only for the court, but for myself. It may be selfish, but I've been missing the north terribly."

Cregan laughs, lightly so, at my comment. "And the north as been missing you, Lady Glover. Your house is morose without you, and Deepwood Motte emptier than ever. It is a shame you are not to return, you'd make a fine lady for the north."

You let out a laugh at his words, and speak, almost bashfully, "you are too kind, my lord. I am sure my family is doing fine with out me. I would love to return, alas, my place is in the south now."

Cregan lets out a long sigh, and rests a sympathetic touch on your arm. "Alas indeed, but if you ever feel inclined to visit, both Deepwood Motte and Winterfell would be more than glad to take you." He offers, and you smile warmly up at him. You have missed the north grievously, and it brings you deep comfort to speak with a northerner, and to see the direwolf of House Stark, the embodiment of the north, in plenty now.

"It would be good to have another northerner to keep me company, show me the ways of the south... if you would be so kind, my lady?" Cregan asks after a moment of respite, and you are to kind to decline, too glad to have another north soul to save you from the court ladies to say no.

So, you give him your prettiest smile and say, "of course, my lord. I'd be honoured."

Perhaps it was the way he spoke to you, how he called you a lady for the north, never of the north, the sly remarks he would make about the south, of how utterly glad and honoured he would be to take you in the north. Perhaps it was the light touches he placed on your arm, your back, and the way you returned them so innocently. Or, perhaps it was the fact that for the last two day's he had been in King's Landing you had utterly ignored him that made Cregan Stark not sit right with Daemon Targaryen.

More than once he'd clenched his fists and gritted his jaw and ignored the way you two laughed together, the obscene amount of time you spent together. How interested you had been in his gnarly, overgrown dog that slobbered after him everywhere he went. Daemon was left baffled, why would you want a dog when you could have a dragon? He couldn't understand your obsession with the Stark boy, and watching you ignore him and give into the flirtatious prick made him angrier than words could explain.

He didn't know how often his hand strained around his cup until his knuckles went white, or how often he took long sips of his wine to keep himself from saying something that would ruin your happiness. It was the only reason he put up with the ugly cunt as he flirted with you, took advantage of your innocence. He'd longed to kill him, but seeing you more content at court than ever before had prompted him not to.

His patience was wavering thin now, as the two of you sat together, ate together, practically glued at the hip as you laughed over something trivial. Jealousy burned in his stomach, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

And when the feasting was over, and it came time to dance, he wanted to slam his fist down when the bastard stood up before you. "Your hand, my lady?" He asked, with a gross smirk he was sure you'd perceive as a kind smile. "For a dance." He adds, and it is like a cruel taunt directed to him. Did the boy not know you were betrothed to him? That you were happy with a prince? That you didn't want a little lordling instead?

"Yes, of course," you agree, ever glad to indulge in his northernness. Daemon feels his nails dig roughly into his palms as he clenches his fist, and he doesn't care if he draws blood. All he can feel is horrible, terrible jealousy. You were his betrothed, his and his alone. Who did this winter cunt think he was?

He might've ripped off the bard's head for playing such a jovial tune. He watched as Cregan's hands gripped your waist and twirl you around the room. He reached for his goblet and tilted it it back into mouth, and when it emptied, he jerked over a serving girl and had her fill it to the brim. He'd drank overmuch already, but it was all he could do to not knock that poor boy to his feet like the dog he was.

His eyes remained fixed on you like a predator to prey. He watched as the bastard spun you into the crowd, as he lifted you by your waist, at the wide grin on flashing on your lips. Your pretty lips that were meant to be his, and his alone. He took another long sip from his cup. Through the gowns and the jewels he watched you with the ugly winter dog.

And, when Cregan Stark dipped his head down and whispered something to you, too close to your ear for his liking, making you through your head back in laughter, Daemon had enough. He stood up, his movements too sharp, sending his chair scraping behind him. He navigated his way through the heart of lords and ladies, past some drunken fool lifting a serving girl and spinning her in the air whilst the tray she carried clattered onto the ground.

Soon enough his hand found it's way to your shoulder, and held onto you a little too tight as he yanked you away from your dance with the winter boy. "You don't mind if I share a dance with my betrothed, do you, lordling?" He asked, his tone curt; he saw no reason to give this bastard any respect. Trying to steal his own betrothed from right under his nose. No, he would not have it.

His eyes seemed to squeeze with delight and his smirk widen as he watched Cregan's face twitch. "Of course, my prince," he says with a smile, and a short bout of laughter so fake Daemon might've puked. "I do hope you enjoy your time together." The winter dog says, and lift's up his betrothed's hand and gives it a disgusting kiss. The nerve.

"Thank you," you murmur, ever the sweetheart, as Cregan Stark finally takes his leave. You watch after him as he disappears into the crowd, as Daemon's grip on your shoulder holds you tight against him. Once the Stark boy is well and truely gone into the mass, he releases you momentarily.

When you dance again, it is him gripping your hips, it is him picking you up and twirling you around the room. Exactly the way it should be. "You seemed to be enjoying your time together," Daemon croons, looking down at your face with devilish eyes. There is anger in his voice, but it is swallowed up by his affection for you.

"Yes, I suppose I was." You say, meeting his gaze with a soft smile. "IT is nice to have a break from the southron ladies, to have a friend who doesn't mock my northernness."

Daemon's eyes narrow, and he lets out a short hum, his head tilting to a side as he watches you. "I think the little lordling wanted to be more than just your friend, sweet thing." He murmurs.

Your soft expression furrows into one of confusion, and you let out a slight scoff. It's almost amusing how disbelieving you are that pissy lord of the north took an interest in you. "Lord Cregan is merely a friend, I assure you," you say, ever innocent in your ways.

"Oh, my sweet thing, you can not be so naive. Surely you've seen the way that dog eyes you," he says, shaking his head, "it's disgusting, frankly."

You laugh nervously, your head swishing back and forth in denial. "He would never, he knows I am betrothed. I haven't shown any interest in him, regardless." You argue. It's almost frustrating how you jump to defend the boy's actions, but he can not blame you. The ladies of Westeros are often too sheltered, made to think every lord is a gentleman. Sure, you knew of whores and cunts, but Daemon found there was much your sweet, trusting nature kept from your grasp.

He runs a hand gently down your cheek and offers you a kind smile. "Oh, my princess, your betrothal only makes you want him more. Do you not see the strays that sniff under the tables for food just beyond their reach? It matters not if you'll have him or not, he wants you the same." He coos, tilting your chin up to look at him. "The mutt wants something nice to warm his tiny little cock, and what better than a prince's wife?"

"Even if what you say is true," you pause for a moment, perhaps you're contemplating the truth of his words, or uneasy by his vulgar language. With a weak smile but a firm gaze, you finish, "I would never entertain his desire."

Daemon smirks at that, "of course not." He says, proudly so. "Why walk a bitch when you can ride a dragon?"

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