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number1mingyustan · 1 year

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-Cuffing Season-

Your Wants

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, kissing, cursing, explicit smut, oral (f.), brief masturbation (m.), multiple orgasms, size kink, penetrative sex, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, pussy drunk gyu

Summary: He loves spoiling you

Word Count: 2.4k

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“You look pretty,” Mingyu compliments as you walk through the front door.

You smile at him, going to place your shopping bags down on the floor. Mingyu however, is quicker than you and takes the large bags from your hands and carries them into the bedroom. “Thank you baby.”

He comes back into the kitchen and pulls you into him. He wraps his arms around your frame securely and it feels so good. His hugs always bring you comfort and you can get a good whiff of his scent. He always smells so good.

You hug him back, leaning into his embrace. It always feels nice to be greeted like this.

He pulls away, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “What’d you buy?”

“Mm! Dresses and shoes. I know you have some business dinners coming up soon and I wanted something new to wear. Got a new bag too, it just dropped yesterday.”

“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. But you know, the lady in the store was being such a bitch.” You say, walking over to the fridge and opening it. You grab a few grapes and pop one into your mouth.

Mingyu leans over the kitchen counter, resting his head on his hand as he listens to you. “How so?”

Damn he looks good.

He’s wearing his glasses today. You can tell he’s been working in his home office. He’s in nothing but a white wife beater and a pair of gray sweats. His biceps are on full display and his hair has grown a little longer, framing his face perfectly.

“Ugh, so I go into the store and I’m waking around looking and she’s just staring at me. Like the whole time the bitch is staring at me and then she starts following me around like I’m gonna steal something.”

“Seriously?”

You nod and pop another grape in your mouth. “So obviously she’s already pissing me off and you know me, so of course I say something to her.”

Mingyu chuckles and nods.

“So I turn around and I’m like ‘Is there a problem?’ And she pretends like she wasn’t following me around like a creep and tells me the most bullshit thing I’ve ever heard in my life. She was like ‘Nope, just making myself available in case you need anything.”

You pop another grape in your mouth.

“But I keep my cool and pick up everything I want, king you she’s still watching me but like from a little bit further away. So I finish all my shopping and go to the register to pay. Of course she wants to be the one to ring me up. And oh my gosh the fucking nerve of that bitch.”

“What did she do?” Mingyu asks.

“She rings everything up and then literally says to me ‘Are you sure you can afford this?’ Like who the hell does she think she is?”

Mingyu frowns. “She actually said that?”

“Yes! I was like, ‘I’m the one shopping here not the one working here.’ And I handed her to black card just to be a bitch about it.”

Mingyu snorts. “You used my black card?”

“Yes,” You pop the last grape into your mouth. “She was making me mad and I wanted to prove a point. It shut her up so fast too.”

Mingyu grins and walks around the counter. He wraps his large hands around you and pulls you in by your waist. “You know how much I love that about you.”

“What?” You look up at him.

“How you don’t take shit from anyone. You never let people push you around or treat you any kind of way. It’s so sexy.” He draws small circles along your sides.

“There’s no way I’d let her disrespect me like that. I would never just let her think I’m broke when I have you. Got me a man with a good job who makes good money and spoils me.” You look up at him and smile.

“Damn right,” He grins down at you.

Your hands are now holding onto his biceps.

“I see you got your hair and nails done too while you were out. Did you use the black card for that too?” He asks.

“No, I used your regular one. I didn’t need to use the black card, besides I didn’t know if it would make you mad since I already spent so much with it.”

He shrugs. “You know I love spoiling you anyway.” He licks his lips. “Did I tell you how good you look?”

You grin. “You did.”

“Hmm. Well you look really good baby.” He compliments.

Mingyu loved when you pampered yourself. He loved buying you things and spoiling you. At the beginning of your relationship you weren’t very receptive toward it. You preferred verbal and physical affection, not monetary.

However, you soon began to embrace and found a balance in your relationship. At first he loved taking you out to fancy dinners and spending more money than needed. He also began embracing your lifestyle, abiding to the fact that you preferred date nights like staying in and watching movies or going to the local food trucks in town that were cheap and much better than the overpriced dinners.

Now you embrace the gifts he gets you so long as date night is at his new favorite foodtruck that makes incredible wings.

You two could live a simple life and still dabble in the finer things.

He loved seeing you come home with having spent his money well. He liked knowing that he could provide for you and that you wouldn’t deny him unless he made a completely unreasonable purchase.

Mingyu worked so much and ensured his success. He loved his job, and admittedly the benefits too. With how much work he put in on a daily basis, he was sure as hell going to make sure you were taken care of.

He pulls you in closer by your waist. His tall stature stands above you, he looks down at you with pure affection in his irises.

“So pretty…” he mumbles. “Don’t wanna mess it up.”

“Mess what up?”

“Your hair. Wanna bend you over and pull on it but you just got it done,” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Mingyu!”

“What? If I don’t fuck you from behind, then you’ll scratch up my back and you just got a fresh set. I’m weighing my options here baby.”

“Maybe your best option is not to fuck me,” You shrug.

“Yeah that’s not happening. You look too good right now for me not to.”

And without another word, he pulls you in with his big hands and kisses you. It’s intense and needy from the moment his lips touch yours.

It escalates quickly and before you know it, your back is pressed against the kitchen wall and your shirt is on the floor. His hands are moving up your skirt and he’s playing with the material of your panties.

His tongue is in your mouth and your body feels hot. He lifts you up with ease and carries you onto the counter without breaking the kiss. He’s so big and strong, feeling him scoop you up like it’s nothing makes your heart race faster.

He places you into the counter and spreads your legs in front of him. He takes off his glasses and places them on the counter next to you. He doesn’t give you time before he meets down and his head disappears under your skirt. He pushes your panties down to your ankle and attaches his lips onto your cunt.

“Shit…” You moan out.

His tongue laps your cunt deliciously. His tongue is warm and wet and it drives you crazy.

Mingyu is a giver. He gives and gives and never expects anything in return. Your happiness is his happiness.

He sucks on your clit, causing you to wrap your legs around his head tighter. He loved the feeling of it, being suffocating by your thighs.

It sends a rush straight to his cock. His hard length is poking up, straining against the material of his sweatpants as his tongue continues to pleasure you.

He’s moaning against your skin, sending vibrations through your body that only make you squirm above him. You’re gripping the edge of the counter tightly with your head tilted back.

“Ah-shit Gyu!” You moan loudly.

Your words only motivate him. He continues lapping your cunt with his tongue, relishing in your taste like a starved man.

As you feel your high approaching, you behind grinding against his face. He kneels there and takes it, flattening his tongue to stimulate your clit so you cum all over his face.

“Cumming-mmph!” You warn him.

Your orgasm hits and it hits hard. Your veins pop out as you hold onto the counter for deal life. You’re moving your hips against his face, wrapping your legs tighter around the circumference of his head.

It’s suffocating in the best way possible.

He doesn’t give you time to come down from your high at all. He refuses to let his mouth leave your cunt.

He’s slurping and lapping your pussy eagerly. He wants to taste you again. He can’t stop himself, he can’t help it. He just wants to give and give until you can’t handle it.

You let out a high-pitched whine and grip the counter harder. You try pulling away, but his hands are holding you down on the counter. His grips your thighs with his big hands, using his bulging muscles to stop you from running.

He’s merciless on your cunt, pleasuring you to the max. You’re writhing and crying out above him and he loves that he can pull this reaction out of you.

He could go down on you for hours on end, days even. As long as he can make you feel good, his heart is content.

It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is building up and you’re really starting to lose it. Your thighs are tightening around his head and suffocating him again, serving as a tell that you’re about to cum again.

When you do, it’s more intense than the first ones You knuckles grow pale with how hard you grip the counter.

You’re completely soaking his face, crying out and moaning as he sends you back into a state of euphoria.

As you come down from your high, he slightly lifts his head and rises back to his feet. He stands back at his full stature, looking down at you with a smirk. He licks his lips and brushes his hair back.

“You good?” He asks.

You nod lazily. You look up at him with half-lidded eyes and breathe heavily.

He lifts you back up and helps you into your feet. You lethe are a bit shaky, but hold holds you up. You pay his arm softly letting him know he can let go. When he does, you stand up on your own and bend over the counter.

“Want you to fuck me Gyu.”

“Baby you just finished on my tongue twice. You don’t wanna take a break?”

“Are you really going to deny me what I want?” You look back at him with a pout. “Thought you liked spoiling me.”

“Of course I do baby,” He steps closer to you, hard cock now poking against your ass. You’re no longer facing him, but his head is in the curve of your neck. He whispers against your ear and leaves soft kisses on your neck. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

He holds you by the waist and unties the strings of his sweatpants. He lets out a breath of relief when he finally releases his aching cock from his sweats.

He throws his head back, letting out a quiet moan as he strikes himself behind you. His dock feels heavy in his hand and he can’t wait to be inside of you.

You feel the tip teasing your entrance as he holds you steady by the waist. You both moan out in unison as he enters you.

The stretch of his cock feels so good. You slump over the counter completely, lifting your ass up more to feel him.

“Feels so good…” He groans as he fills you up.

All you can do is nod weakly as you accommodate to the stretch of his length. Once he fills you up completely, he draws his hips back and starts thrusting into you.

His nails dig into your sides as he holds you steady. He knows he’ll pull on your hair and mess it up his he doesn’t hold onto you this way.

“Fuck” You moan out.

“Pussy so good..” he mumbles. “Fuck… I’d do anything.”

He watches the way your ass jiggled every time he thrusts into you. He’s mesmerized, eyes watching hungrily.

Your body jerks forward, pressing into the hard marble counter each time he bottoms out. You’re already starting to feel overstimulated and he’s hitting it just right.

His hand snakes between your thighs and his thumb begins circling your already sensitive clit. You hiss at the sudden contact

The stretch of his cock feels so good, his tip brushing against the one spot deep inside of you that drives you crazy.

You’re now gripping the other side of the counter to ground yourself. The larger man is fucking you with full force, just the way you like it.

“Cumming!” You warn him before you fall apart for the third time.

Your legs grow weak and wobbly as your orgasm courses through your body. He continues to fuck you through it thoroughly before his own orgasm hits.

When it does, he tightens his grip on your hips, pumping his seems inside of you and filling you up. You both stand in the kitchen breathless and sweaty.

“Damn it,” you groan.

You turn around, showing him your chipped nail. “I was gripping the counter too hard.”

He licks his lips and runs his fingers along yours. “Sweated out your hair a bit too.”

He pulls his sweatpants back up and digs into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and hands you 3 hundred dollar bills with a wink.

“Go get yourself fixed up okay baby? And don’t worry, it’s on me.”

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#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #mingyu svt #mingyu #mingyu drabbles #kim mingyu smut #svt mingyu #mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu #kpop #cuffing season

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evilcarmona · 1 month

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Fem!Sokka AU

So, I thought a little about this AU.

(For starters, I don't speak english, so, well.. ehe)

To begin with, she is at least 19-20 years old. I would like to make her older, because I like to draw beautiful adult women, but then the plot will not work. The age of all older ATLA teenagers has been raised. The age of the younger ones does not change.

The story is the same. Initially, Sokka is a man. He probably remained the only boy in the tribe for longer. This may affect Katara, as he has been her parent figure for longer than in the canon. In general, I believe in Sokka's parental vibes.

He's also a little more mature. Responsible, strong. But still a sexist. Father said that he was the only warrior of the tribe. Then he left them and went away with other men for many years. It couldn't end well. On the other hand, living among women affects Sokka more than he thinks.

So, about after Kiyoshi Island, gaang stops at the shrine of a female warrior. This is not Kyoshi, because I don't want Aang to feel that he is indirectly to blame for the situation. In general, Sokka offends the spirit with some kind of sexist comment. The Spirit takes revenge and curses him. Sokka falls into a magic pond. Poof! He's a woman. Aang has talked to the spirit, and the spirit is ready to cast spells on the water in the pond again. But she won't do it for two years. Lol

So, Sokka can only put up with it. Saving the world is more important than a little curse. Somewhere in the background, Zuko is trying to figure out where gaang took this beautiful woman and where they put that beautiful man. Really, where did he go? (Uncle Iroh is very funny)

The fact is that during the journey, Sokka realizes that he actually feels good. He likes it. In addition, he likes to be beautiful and do hairstyles.

Besides, becoming a woman, he feels the injustice of the situation at the north Pole more acutely. Sokka understands that putting someone in a frame because of gender is unfair. He and Yue become friends. Sokka kicks Khann's ass. And he also kills Zhao before the disaster with the Moon happens. Yue deserves to live.

In the future, Sokka thinks a lot. He supports his sister and Toph more than anyone. In fact, he used to have his father's vibes. Now it's the mother's vibes. Vibes of the coolest mom in the world. She can cut off the offenders' heads with a halberd. Literally.

In fact, I have nothing to justify the halberd with. I love halberds as much as I love women in sexy dresses. A lady may have small hobbies)

Okay, maybe Sokka decided to explore more weapons. She loves her boomerang, but does not refuse to develop like a warrior. Halberd is clearly defeating bending, haha. Maybe Sokka will be given some cool nickname on the battlefield. The Moon Witch? Heh

(Somewhere far away, Hakoda and the South Pole fleet are wondering what kind of Moon Witch is this? They will be surprised)

Perhaps before they meet after Ba Sing Se, Hakoda meets someone who has met the gaang before. Someone: You have two wonderful daughters! Hakoda: What?

So Zuko comes to gaang and asks where the boy has gone. The explanation was awkward because Zuko barely had time to accept that he was bi. What does it mean that the two people who make his heart beat faster are one person?

I forgot to tell you! Just because Sokka was bewitched by a spirit doesn't mean that Sokka trusts Aunt Wu! It's a matter of pride, lol

So two years go by, and you know what? Sokka does not ask the spirit to lift the curse. He's fine as it is.

#fanart #genderswap #atla sokka #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla au #female sokka #sokka #zukka #sokka/zuko

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dira333 · 11 months

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Wild Dreams - Sero Hanta x Soulmate Reader

For my Follower Celebration - requested by @fuzztacular

and before anyone asks: Denki's soulmate is blind as a bat without her glasses and mistook him for a friend

“Hey, sexy lady.”

You look up from the breakfast you’ve been preparing.

Hanta’s standing in the doorway, exhaustion pulling on the bags under his eyes. He’s still in his Hero Costume, looking almost as dashing as when he left yesterday evening.

You, on the other hand, are wearing one of his shirts that you pretended to throw out months ago and threadbare pajama shirts, your hair hasn’t seen a brush and you’re pretty sure you forgot to take off your make up last night.

But that’s Hanta for you. Flirting with you even when he’s falling asleep standing up.

“Hey yourself.” You wave your spatula at him. “Do you want to have breakfast with me?”

“I want to sleep with you. In our bed. Just… eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Could we do that?”

You laugh. “You can, but I will be off to work in an hour.”

He takes two steps and drapes himself over your shoulders. “Please?” He whines. “The bed isn’t the same without you.”

“Five minutes.” You agree easily. “Go wash up.”

“YAY!” He presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek and dances out of the kitchen while you finish your breakfast.

You’re not surprised to find him fast asleep by the time you step into your bedroom.

He’s curled into himself, leaving just enough space for you to slip in between his arms.

You close your eyes, trusting your phone alarm to wake you up - and allow yourself to slip dream…

Years before

“This sucks.” Hanta mutters and pops another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“What sucks?” Denki’s been fiddlling with his phone, his Nachos precarily balanced on his drink.

“Soulmates.”

“Oh, that again?”

“Yes, that again! I can’t believe I’m the only one in our class who doesn’t have a soulmate.”

“You don’t know that.” Denki repeats his mantra for the hundredth time. “You just don’t have any visible clues.”

“Even Mineta has a Soulmate! He might not have found it yet, but how cool is that? Only being able to see colours when you meet them? That way you know for sure who it is.”

“You could have the same type as Todoroki. Your soulmate is just ultracareful that’s why you haven’t felt any pain yet.”

“Nah.” Hanta shakes his head. “I told you, I don’t have a soulmate. Just accept it and feel lucky about your own.”

Denki levels him with a glare. Right at the collar of his shirt sits his soulmark, four words written out in scraggly handwriting, spelling “What’s up, Dumbass?”

“You shouldn’t give up that easily,” a voice behind him says and Hanta turns, surprised to see the prettiest girl he’s probably ever met.

“I…” He starts, mouth dry, words dying on his tongue.

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” You stick out your tongue as you smile. “But you could be a dreamsharer? Everyone in my family is one.”

“That can’t be.” Hanta shakes his head. “My dreams haven’t changed at all ever since I remember.”

“What a shame.” You put one hand on his arm as you speak and his mouth runs dry again.

“What are your dreams like, then?”

Hanta looks over at Denki who’s eyes are as big as saucers now, urging him to keep talking.

“I, uh… they’re pretty active? Like there’s this new anime that I started watching lately and I keep dreaming that I’m in it.”

You laugh. “Don’t tell me it’s Haikyuu. I keep thinking that I’d make such a great Libero but I keep dreaming of myself as the Ace.”

“You watch that too? That’s funny, it’s the other way around for me! I think the Ace’s are the coolest, especially Asahi or Iwaizumi, but I always dream of myself as the Libero.”

Your smile grows.

“What a coincidence.” You draw the words out and flick your eyes to the front where the doors to the cinema hall open.

“I think you should give me your number.” You say, words coming out so smooth Hanta thinks he’s misheard you. “Just in case we dream of each other tonight. You never know.”

When your alarm goes off, Hanta is dreaming of swinging from building to building, the night sky clear and full of stars above him.

You don’t feel bad to leave him to his own dreams when they’re as nice as today, even less when you know that this has been the last night shift for a while.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #follower celebration #Sero Hanta #Sero Hanta x reader #Sero x Reader #Sero Fluff #Soulmate reader #Soulmate AU

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emilykaldwen · 6 months

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eight

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

no tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

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SPICY CHAPTER AHEAD (no seriously it's like 5k worth of smut in here)

CHAPTER EIGHT - SOMETHING IN YOUR TOUCH

Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright. Aemond has a birthday, the girls gossip, and Aegon is a (sexy) creep. And we earn our explicit rating.

It was Aemond’s nameday and the royal gardens were more alive than they’d been in ages. Three of the terraces that spilled from the Queen’s ballroom were filled with courtiers, from young men and women newly arrived to King’s Landing, to the Queen’s ladies and children of the Small Council, to those who were slowly trickling in preceding Aegon’s nameday celebrations. Minstrels were playing beneath the shaded cover of the cloistered walkway, and there were tables laden with cakes and meats, even a marchpane facsimile of Vhagar that had surprised them all when the queen, beaming brighter than Abby had ever seen her, proudly revealed it.

“Happy nameday, my darling,” she’d told Aemond, slim hands on his upper arms, a fond kiss to his cheek. Even now, at seven and ten, he only blushed lightly at the affection of his mother rather than pull away with complaint. So rare was Queen Alicent’s softness that not even a crowd of peers could dissuade Aemond from pulling away for some sort of manly pride that he was too old for a kiss from his mother; he’d sprouted another few inches, now taller than Aegon, who was rather put out by it all.

In spite of the warmth from the midday sun, Abby could feel the promise of autumn on the breeze, a cool caress that tugged at the fire-kissed curls that hung loose down her back, held back by a pair of lapis and amethyst combs. Normally her hair would be worn pulled back in a knot at the crown of her head, but she was acutely aware of the mark below her right ear that she need not draw attention to.

She tilted her head back to feel the sun kiss her cheeks, ignoring the feeling of Aegon’s eyes on her back, of the shiver and prickle that came when one knew they were being watched.

The scent of lemon preceded the whisper of silk and Helaena’s amused voice against her ear. “You’re blushing,” the princess sing-songed, laughing softly as Abby huffed and lightly smacked her hand against her sister’s chest. It did little to deter her, and Helaena rested her chin on Abby’s bare shoulder, tugging a little at the skirt. “I like this dress. He does too.”

“I didn’t wear it for him.” The light silk organza was luxurious, shifting in colors from the softest pink and periwinkle into sage, baring her shoulders with the low neckline edged in embroidered blue flowers centered with pearls. It helped with the heat of the capital and she couldn’t deny that she felt lovely in it. “If he enjoys it, that is simply a bonus.” She bit her lip and chanced a glance over her shoulder.

Aegon stood beneath one of the cypress trees with a goblet held lazily in one ringed hand, his other arm braced against the trunk of the tree. His own eyes were on her, angling around Aemond who stood in his way, teeth pressed into his lower lip. The moment he realized she had caught him watching, he gave a slight start and Abby scrunched her face at him, teasing. His surprise eased into a satisfied smirk, the gold of his dragon stamped buttons on his black jerkin catching the light as did the rings on his fingers. She watched him tap two of them against the goblet he raised and after a shy moment, she gave him a smile and tapped her own fingers against her chin.

“Adorable,” Wylla teased from her other side, the roll of her eyes evident in her voice. Abby squeaked in surprise, the elder girl having seemingly appeared to seize the opportunity for teasing. Her cheeks flamed and she looked out towards the low hedge maze below on the next terrace.

“I didn’t wear it for him,” she emphasized, and it was Wylla’s turn to smirk as Helaena hummed her own disbelief. “You’re both ridiculous. Did you race across this whole garden just to say that to me?” Wylla raised her eyebrows in challenge. Abby squinted blue eyes at Helaena’s innocent look. “Are you both conspiring to tease me so?”

“Never,” Helaena said emphatically and Wylla was all innocence in her agreement.

“Of course I wouldn’t vault over a hedgerow at the opportunity to tease you. I’m conspiring to tease the foolish one.” She nodded her head in the direction of the brothers and Abby frowned.

“Foolish one? Which one?”

Wylla scoffed. “The one who cornered me in the hall a week ago asking - nay, demanding that I recount the tale of the Night’s King and the Corpse Queen so he could compare it to some moldy book he was brandishing like a madman.”

“Is he still going on about that?” Abby asked, catching Helaena’s own eye roll.

“I wish you’d warned me that he’s on some obsession about some kind of treatise on,” she pitched her voice lower, an attempt at modulating her voice to sound more like Aemond. “Northern Myths In Relation to the Founding of the Night’s Watch and King Beyond the Wall. Who does he think he is, taking my land and claiming to know more about it?”

“He thinks he’s Aemond Targaryen,” Helaena said dryly. “What more do you want?”

“An explanation on if the audacity comes with the dragon and that book to give him a good crack on his big head.”

Abby hummed. “The audacity absolutely comes with the dragon. Have you met Princess Helaena?”

The princess smiled serenely, her silver hair like spun gold beneath the sunlight and her lavender eyes shining with the kind of dreamy mystery they always held.

“Tis true.” Heleana sighed and pressed her hands against the low wall they were leaning against. “One does not need a cock to prove their might when they ride the oldest dragon. Sorry, second eldest dragon.” Even in her annoyance with her brother, there was amusement in her tone. “I can’t lord that over anyone anymore. Well, I suppose I can still lord it over Aegon, but then he comes back about Vhagar and then Aegon says that Sunfyre is the most beautiful dragon and Vhagar is a hoary old beast and then Aemond tells him to come say that to her face.”

The three of them fell into laughter then and Abby was grateful for the attention to be taken off of her dress and the way she was trying to hide the fact that she enjoyed Aegon gazing at her. It was good to have this. It was good to see Helaena freer than she’d been in some time. It was good to have Wylla by her side, a piece that Abby did not realize she’d been missing in her life. With the companionship that Wylla Karstark provided, it had struck her how isolated they’d been, this clutch of theirs. There'd once been a time when they’d played with more children than just their relatives. She recalled great games in the Kingswood carried out between all the children of the court, not just the Queen and Princess’ children, but those of the Small Council and others who littered the Red Keep and the capital.

That was before Princess Rhaenyra had left for Dragonstone. That was before that awful night on Driftmark.

“How do you like our new Baratheon friends?” Abby asked, hoping to keep the light mood up.

The princess hummed and folded her hands in front of her. “Floris is very sweet. I think would much rather run around like a little fawn than act so demurely.” The fondness in Helaena’s voice was undeniable as she spoke of the little girl. At present, Floris was running in circles around the fountain with one of Lord Beesbury’s granddaughters, her laughter a bright, bell-like sound.

It was not often that the other children of the court got to spend time amidst the royal family. Abby had suggested the opportunity, both for the Baratheons to be introduced to the court, as well as the opportunity for her and Helaena to start vetting ladies for their households, and to perhaps find companions for Aemond that didn’t involve whatever competition he’d decided there was between him and the Fossoway boy.

“Well, someone must have realized we were teasing him,” Wylla’s hushed voice broke in. Abby glanced up to see Aemond making his way over. In that moment Abby realized how grown he had begun to look, no longer the awkward and gangly boy he had been. Apart from his newfound height, the baby fat had started to melt from his cheeks, leaving behind a more stern look, one with the potential to be frighteningly intense. It appeared that others had noticed as well, eyes following his movement as he approached.

“Oh no,” Helaena groaned. “I swear, his hearing is ridiculous.”

“He’s come to tell us more about his Night’s King treatise,” Abby warned with another giggle, bumping her shoulder against Helaena’s who huffed softly. “Perhaps you can counter with a lesson on the molting practices of that type of lizard for Asshai. The one with the ruff around its neck and the spitting.”

“Your Grace!” Wylla’s voice called out as she gathered her dove gray skirts in hand to intercept Aemond. “I neglected to tell you about the Selkies of the Bay of Seals.”

She felt Helaena’s tension beside her ease slightly, her nails scraping against the sandstone wall and gaze drifting towards the glimmer of the bay and the seagulls that drifted through the air. There was a thrum in the girl beside her, the kind of vibration that Abby could feel in the air, as if Helaena’s very being sang with a tension like a tuning fork.

“Should you wish to find Dreamfyre, I shall set another distraction,” Abby murmured softly, letting her pinky finger touch Helaena’s pinky where their hands rested beside one another. Helaena returned the gesture with a shake of her head.

“I’m not some fragile thing,” she whispered, and the drifting quality to her voice made it unclear if Helaena spoke to her or to herself. “I will not give him the satisfaction, nor will I cause Mother concern.”

“You are not some fragile thing. You ride the second oldest dragon in the world.” Abby smiled and bumped her shoulder into Helaena’s and the princess huffed, returning the gesture. “He doesn’t get to demand something you do not wish -”

“Hush.” The hiss of the word had Abby snapping her mouth closed, head ducking down with instinctive apology. It was a tender subject, painful as a bruise for Helaena, and one that seemed to worsen with each passing of the moon. Helaena would not speak of it, but Abby was no fool to see that she did not hold the same desire that her brother did.

Sometimes, when she and Aemond sat together in the library, her feet resting on his boots while they made themselves at home in the comfortable nook below one of the stained glass windows, Abby thought she saw the same hesitance within him. She wished he’d speak his mind to her, as he had on many subjects, just as Helaena would speak hers. But this? This was a subject that neither of them had any desire to speak of and she could not figure out if they felt too beholden to the performance, or if there was something else she didn’t understand.

Floris Baratheon’s loud shrieks of laughter drew Abby’s gaze up from their hands to smile softly down at the way the girl found such joy in her new playmates.

“If you tell your mother that you do not wish for it, she will not force you, just as she did not force you and Aegon to wed. We both know if she had her heart set on you and Aegon marrying, she wouldn’t have broken the betrothal so quickly when Aemond was making his claims.” Even though she had not betrothed Aemond and Helaena, as Aemond had so fervently demanded. It had not escaped her that the queen and Lord Hand had grown increasingly anxious once Princess Rhaenyra had given birth to her fourth son, Prince Daemon’s son, and the past four years had been increasingly stressful with not knowing what would happen next. Aegon was nearing twenty, he should have been married already, if not to Helaena, then to another daughter of a great house. Helaena could have been sent away to secure someplace like the North and Cregan Stark, who had just taken his place as Warden.

Yet here they were, her and Aegon, hand in hand, counting the weeks until their wedding, and no news yet of Helaena’s potential betrothals and only a few lords out there of an age with her worthy of the hand of a princess of the realm. It was not uncommon for maids to marry young. Queen Alicent herself had been five and ten when she’d wedded the king, the man old enough to be her father. Abby’s own stomach curdled at the idea of Larys marrying her to an old lord looking for his third wife in a young and untouched maiden.

“Rivers drenched in flame,” Helaena murmured, fingernails biting into the back of Abby’s hand and the touch of pain pulled a gasp from her. “Sorry.” Helaena snatched her own hand back quickly and blinked. “I told grandfather that I’d die if he married me to Aegon. Aemond shouldn’t get all the credit for it.”

Abby was silent, watching Helaena from the corner of her eye as the princess scraped her fingertips along the sandstone. Her mind, however, whirled with the revelation that Helaena had never even hinted at before, and Abby briefly glanced over her shoulder to the gathered party.

Aemond had become suitably distracted, peppering Wylla with questions about selkies, and further beyond, there was Warren Fossoway gathered with some of the other young men around Aegon, whose lilac eyes had focused on the telling of something or another that had the boys falling into raucous laughter. Ladies mingled, from younger than her and Helaena to the women who served the queen and wives who had accompanied their husbands to the capital. Queen Alicent herself was below, on the lower terrace where Floris and Lord Beesbury’s granddaughter were playing about the fountain still, their laughter like delighted garden sprites. Then her eyes were drawn to the group near the arched entrance to the godswood.

The Lady Cassandra, eldest of the Four Storms, as the Baratheon daughters had come to be known, was to put it simply, beautiful. She was only a scant few months older than Helaena, older than expected for the eldest daughter of a Lord Paramount to remain unbetrothed, let alone unwed. Abby recalled the sour look on Lady Myrielle Penrose’s face at the news of the Baratheon arrival - Cassandra had been set to marry her brother before Bennard Penrose was caught with Lord Hayford’s daughter at a tournament in the Stormlands. Now, here the heir of Storm’s End stood, with her hair as black as raven wings, a storm of twisted curls and waves half pulled up in a thickly braided net of gold and pearl. Her features were sharp, giving her a cold sort of beauty that was both ensnaring and intimidating, as if she were Argella Durrandon reborn. She appeared older and more worldly than Abby had expected with her gown of gold satin, the bodice embroidered with black lace and appliques that evoked antlers and gave the illusion of armor.

“Do you think she can push her breasts up any higher out of that gown?” Helaena asked. Abby choked on her swallow of cider, only just managing to cough it back up into her goblet before she sputtered everywhere. She did her best to ignore the eyes on her while dabbing at her mouth with her handkerchief, and resolutely ignored the way Aegon was watching her again. His eyes burned into her, stoking something aching low in her gut.

“I think you should worry less about her bosom and how she shows it off, and more about looking for others who might work as ladies for you.” Abby coughed once more into her handkerchief and cleared her throat. Helaena clucked her tongue.

“Is that because you’re jealous of her ample bosom?” Helaena teased, and Abby prickled with indignation, huffing and running her fingers over the ivy design along the goblet in her hand.

“No, I’m not jealous of her ample bosom. I do not want you to be lonely when I’m gone, Helaena,” Abby defended herself, only half a lie, but there was still truth in the statement. She wanted to reach for Helaena’s hand, but just because Helaena had been physically affectionate did not mean she welcomed it from the outside. “We will make sure your ladies will care for you properly, but you have to give them a chance.”

“You don’t have to baby me, you know,” the princess said, her large lavender eyes narrowed in a vague sense of annoyance. “I’m not helpless.”

A soft exhale. “I don’t think you are, and I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to… and I simply want to make sure that-.” That what? Abby could not lie to herself that she liked to be needed, that she needed to be needed, and she loved Helaena. She was protective of Helaena, and the idea of her being surrounded by people that didn’t understand her, that didn’t know what days she needed loose fitting dresses and quiet, or to wake up in the middle of the night, whispering and giggling with each other when dreams became too much for them both.

“Abby,” Helaena interrupted. “You’re starting to sound like Mother.”

She flushed. Alicent Hightower was a gracious and clement queen. She cared for the small folk, she kept the kingdom running as the king fell deeper into his illness. She took responsibility for her after the death of her father when she didn’t have to. Alicent was the closest thing she had to a mother anymore. But she was not kind. She was not soft, nor gentle. She fretted and raged, and fear had begun turning her into a taloned woman liable to strike rather than comfort some days. “I take great pride in being your lady. I would prefer to be assured that things continue as normal, or even better.” Helaena made a little huffing sound before softly laughing and Abby shook her head. “The Seven forbid you end up with a host of Lady Penroses.”

“You are right,” Helaena agreed, twisting her fingers together and plucking at the soft sapphire silk of her sleeves. The neckline of the simple gown was heart shaped, the appliques on the bodice mimicking flame. An appropriate call of the Hightower and blood of the dragon that made up the princess. “I do not like change. I do not want to have to get used to it all.”

Abby tentatively rested her hand on the taller girl’s shoulder, her fingertips only just touching the edge of Helaena’s sleeve. “You are an afternoon’s ride away, whenever you desire to escape the confines of your tower. I imagine there are quite a few fascinating specimens at Harrenhal for you to collect.”

Helaena made a thoughtful face, nodding. “This is true. And I can’t imagine anyone would beg to come along for such an adventure. Their loss, always.”

“Floris might.” Now the pair of girls were balancing on the edge of the fountain, carefully reaching their hands out to put beneath the spray of water. “Unless, of course, you suddenly decide that you would rather Lady Cassandra stay.”

It had been two days since the arrival of the Baratheon girls, and while Helaena and Abby both had grown fond of little Floris, Cassandra was a whole other story entirely. The pair turned their gazes towards the other end of the terrace where Cassandra still remained. Helaena shook her head and looped her arm through Abby’s, tugging her along.

“Come, let us go speak with the heavy breasted storm so you can decide if you’re taking her with you, or if we'll send her back to Storm’s End before she suffocates us all.”

Cassandra continued to hold court across the garden and Abby’s eyes darted around for Wylla, for a moment feeling the ache of insecurity at not having the elder girl around. She was still with Aemond, brow furrowed and the pair of them gesturing wildly at whatever disagreement about the selkies had developed into. Abby stifled a laugh.

“Aemond might end up tossed over the wall should he keep that up,” she murmured to Helaena.

“Good, perhaps that would knock some sense into him.” Abby glanced from Aemond’s arrow-straight form to Helaena curiously. Helaena’s silver hair shone gold beneath the sunlight, and her large eyes drifted to remain fixed on the group of women they approached.

“Your Grace,” came Lady Cassandra’s husky voice, unexpected in its roughness and yet perfect for the image she presented. It gave her an enviable air of mystery, of womanly secret that Abby was acutely aware she lacked. The others around her quickly followed suit with demure murmurs and all dropped into smooth, elegant curtsies. It was a picture of perfection in the gentle swish of fabric. Cassandra’s large dark eyes moved over to her, a dark brow arching in curiosity. “I apologize, but I don’t believe we’ve yet met.”

A slight shake of her head, Abby inclined her head in greeting, unsure if she needed to curtsy to the daughter of a lord paramount now. “We haven’t, although I did have the pleasure of meeting your sweet sister, Floris. I am Lady Abrogail, of Harrenhal. Companion to her Grace, the Princess. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Cassandra, and I hope for us to become friends.”

Cassandra’s smile was wide and broad, all straight, pearly teeth and sharp cuspids. “I’m sure we will, Lady Abrogail. Harrenhal, you say?” A soft chuckle and a curious cock of her head. “That great, haunted place.”

Ugly place was implied beneath the husky tone. It was one that she had heard enough over the years to recognize immediately and though it continued to sting, she would not let it shake her. “Yes, my elder brother is the current Lord, and I’m quite looking forward to seeing my family upon our return there. The lands are beautiful, and the cherry and plum orchards are renowned for their autumn meads.” She laughed, her eyes drifting across the rest of the young women in the group. “Lady Elinor, is it?” she asked the slight woman to Cassandra’s right, hovering and small. Her mouse brown hair looked as soft as fur, curled delicately around her narrow face. Abby smiled. “I hear that Bronzegate also has some of the best strawberries outside of the Reach. I’ve always wanted to attend one of your harvest festivals. I adore strawberries.”

Lady Elinor’s shy look relaxed and she returned her smile with a beaming one of her own, stepping forward into the circle of ladies. Abby kept her eyes affixed upon her, although she noticed the sharp glint in Lady’s Cassandra’s deep gaze. “Aye, my Lady. If you enjoy strawberries, you should try our strawberry wines. They’re not as heavy as the barrels from the Arbor, if I do say so myself.” The pride in Lady Elinor’s voice eased Abby’s nerves and she relaxed. She would not let the beautiful woman intimidate her, especially if Lady Cassandra was going to be the one to accompany her to Harrenhal.

“We will have to send for some, then, for the Prince’s nameday,” she said, glancing briefly over her shoulder in Aegon’s direction and the bickering between Aemond and poor Wylla who was in fact, looking to hold her own. Let this woman see that while she was perhaps the eye of the storm in her own home, she would not let her push her around, nor any of her ladies, and sweet Floris. All bouncing breasts, and hateful thoughts. What an ugly combination. She would have to tell Helaena later.

“I hear the Prince’s nameday feast will be one for the books,” Lady Cassandra cut in, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Hunt and a tournament? And the feasts should be grand. I do love a good feast. Do you enjoy dancing, your Grace?”

Helaena did not meet Cassandra’s pointed look, but she rarely met anyone’s eyes head on. “No.”

Abby dug her thumbnail into her palm to keep from laughing. The pair of the Queen’s ladies exchanged glances, for the truth was quite the opposite.

“Well, I’m sure there will still be fun and revelry for all,” Cassandra’s smile was stuck in place and she cleared her throat somewhat. It was clear that she would not do to become a companion to Helaena, and Abby brushed her arm against her dear sister’s. “You know, I heard a rumor that the king plans to declare Prince Aegon his heir, that’s why it’s such a celebration.”

There were soft gasps amongst the ladies. “Oh, do you think so?” Lady Elinor whispered, a hand pressed to her cheek. Cassandra tutted, waving over a servant to refill her goblet with arbor gold.

“He’s unmarried, and the celebration is larger than any thrown since Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding. Isn’t that right, Your Grace?” The lady’s dark eyes shot over to Helaena with wide eyed eagerness and a coy smile slashed across her lovely face. Abby felt a prickle of heat along her throat.

Helaena tilted her head, gazing idly over the rest of the party. “I suppose. Mother finds frivolous celebration unseemly when the treasury could be used to rebuild the poor houses that had fallen into disuse.”

“And with the king’s ill health, it doesn’t seem appropriate to throw such festivities,” Abby added encouragingly, her shoulder brushing against Helaena’s.

“The king’s ill health?” Lady Cassandra said, as if she didn’t know after spending a week in the Red Keep that the king was rarely seen. “Well, all the more reason then to finally declare Prince Aegon heir.” Her gaze drifted before she laughed. “But do not look now, my friends, for the Prince in question has not stopped looking this way.”

Something unpleasant churned in Abby’s stomach and she felt a flush heat along the back of her neck and ears. The Queen’s ladies exchanged another glance before drifting their gazes to Abby, and she was not sure if they meant them as pity or uncertainty as to what they should say. It was obvious what Cassandra had meant - that Aegon was staring at her, of course.

“Pay him no mind,” Abby said airly, goblet tight in her delicate hand. “We don’t. It’s best to not encourage him.” Cassandra laughed louder, and Abby saw the demonstration for what it was. The tilt of her head showing off the fine line of her neck, and the jewels that decorated her. That ridiculous bosom with all the secrets inside making them shake with her laughter.

Was Aegon staring at Cassandra now? She was beautiful, and so polished, even with her callous nature hidden beneath the lady’s mask. Aegon didn’t care about personality, that much Abby knew. He liked pretty things. Pretty mouths and smiles and attention. One didn’t need a personality when they were-

“I’m sorry, I don’t seem to understand what’s so funny. Did I miss the joke?” Helaena’s voice interrupted the path of Abby’s swirling thoughts and the princess said it with such a straight face that Abby knew that it was true. Crowds could be difficult for her some days, and the backhanded nature of ladies always put her on edge, with doublespeak being at least thrice as difficult to maneuver as simple polite evasion and conversation.

Was Aegon staring at the raven haired beauty or was he still looking at her? She wanted to turn her head to look, but wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her doubt or jealousy. Not that Abby was jealous. She wasn’t. This was simply the insecurity of her new dress, and what her station was now, and where she stood and… and…

Abby brushed her hair away from her neck, where her curls had covered the little bruise that Aegon’s mouth left, her fingers trailing over the spot. Cassandra’s eyes caught the motion, and Abby gave a slight smile. “It will be refreshing to have someone so joyful with us at court. The days can get quite boring and monotonous.”

Cassandra hummed. “Truly? You seem like the kind of lady that has no problem occupying her time.” Her hand dropped awkwardly from her neck and Abby felt the heat creep along her throat and up her cheeks. The other girl smiled, the flash of those sharp cuspids again. “You know the sort.”

The servants' passage, one Aegon had taken to perusing on nights when sleep eluded him, snaked through nearly every inch of the castle. He had his half filled goblet in hand, the warmth of the plum cider that Abby favored coursing through his veins. His dagger was in his boot, his shirt loose and light along his skin and breeches half unlaced.

His footsteps were quiet, the murmurs from the rooms behind a soft lull. He stopped at the crosspath to pet Theraxis, the cat stalking for prey in these night hours before returning to his mistress’ room.

“You stay out. Don’t want to be interrupted,” he told him softly. The great furry thing rubbed against his calf before vanishing into the darkness, as if it took his words to heart.

It was the whimper Aegon heard first and it wrenched an agonized sigh from him as he came upon his intended goal. He leaned forward against the wall, eyes to the little peep holes that Maegor had commissioned throughout the Red Keep, and he threw back the remains of his drink before setting it on the little ledge where the one from the day before sat.

Abby was alone in her room, tucked there in her bed, safe and sound. The fire was a low glow, and it turned her creamy skin warm and golden. Her hair was like dragonfire, bloody red and gold against her white sheets. The back of her hand was pressed against her mouth and her knees were drawn up. The softness of her nightgown was bunched along the tops of her thighs - sweet things, spread as they were.

Another moan escaped her, and he bit his lip as he palmed his quickly hardening cock. Aegon had dreamt of her before. He’d pictured her heart shaped mouth rounded out in cries of pleasure, the sound of his name tumbling out of her with her frantic gasping, twisting memory to suit his fantasies of his Maiden. In spite of what he lamented over wine and whores to his brothers, about his fears to touch her, his fears to corrupt her, his self-control was slipping with each smile and each flirtation she sent his way.

He had no way to see the sweetness between those thighs, not from this angle. The ugly thought of someone spying on her tore at his gut, and it was the only reason he was relieved that he could not see. But fuck him, he could hear the wet slick. Maybe it was his imagination; it probably was, but it didn’t matter as he watched her dainty little hand palm down the curve of her belly and vanish between her spread legs.

His cock bobbed painfully as he fisted it, precum dripping over his knuckles while he stroked.

What are you wishing I’d do to you? He wondered with the confidence that came from knowing it was his touch she surely must be fantasizing about. He never missed her casual affection, and the teasing she’d done, stepping right to him in the market fair the previous day. It was him that she desired. And that was after all the adorable kisses she initiated; the first time she’d dragged him behind the tapestry outside of his mother’s room and tried to suppress the giggles that bubbled out of her, the way she cupped his face and pressed the sweetest, clumsiest, most eager of kisses across his face and his mouth.

Yet, she’d thought him disinterested. Even in his lamentations that she deserved better, someone wholly not him, the very thought that she could be taken from him was not something he could bear. Not something he could stand. But, gods, her squared shoulders and her firm speech about how she wouldn’t put up with his attitude, the way her blue eyes brightened like the afternoon sky, had gotten his blood running. So rare was it that Abrogail Strong was ever so firm and he desired to see more of it, desperate to draw it out of her.

Would she be that way writhing beneath him, demanding to ride him the way they rode Sunfyre? Or would she be desperate and wanting, begging and mewling as he pressed those damnable, adorable grasping hands into the sheets while she squirmed.

It was obscene, this tableau, soft, safe and innocent in her bed. It should be the most sacred and tender of images. Yet the sight before him, her thighs spread and trembling, her head tossing restlessly against the pillow, was just as sacred, just as tender, as her usual air of innocence. Abby’s hips rolled up against her stuttering touch. Aegon squeezed the base of his cock, trying to hold off his peak so he could enjoy this as long as possible. He wanted to see her face. He wanted to see if her brow furrowed how it did when she was reading. He wanted to see if her mouth rounded in surprise as it did when they flew together.

As if his precious Maiden had heard him, she turned towards him… and then kept turning until she was on her knees, pert ass in the air and her face pressed into her pillow.

Seven hells, he was going to explode. He watched Abby shove her nightgown into her mouth to muffle those desperate sounds that were growing louder. The nightgown had fallen down from the angle, the round of her ass shoved into the air, rocking desperately against her hand. The firelight caught at the tears on her soft cheeks and he licked his lips, swearing he could taste the salt of them. He couldn’t see the delectable apple shapes of her breasts, the only thing left hidden by the bunched up fabric caught around her arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered, louder than he would have liked, but it didn’t appear that she’d heard. She continued to whimper and grind against her hand. As his seed slipped slick over his hand, dripping to the stone floor - and there was a strange feeling of waste at the way it splattered across the stones - he realized that she wasn’t able to come from her own inexperienced touch.

Oh, his poor little rabbit.

He watched her writhe in the low firelight, fitful and sobbing in her bed as she stroked frantically at herself. Aegon’s eyes slid to the left, where the crack of the passage door was just visible.

He really shouldn’t.

He really, really shouldn’t.

He tucked himself back into his breeches and ran his hand along the crack before he located the latch. The stone moved easily, silently, and the sounds within the room suddenly cleared as he stood in the doorway, watching her barely half a room away. From this vantage, he could see the shadow between her pretty thighs, and even if he just came, his cock was twitching once more.

Aegon was relieved that his footsteps made no sound as he approached the bed, and it took every ounce of his willpower not to groan when he saw the slickness of her cunt and the shimmer of arousal running down her thighs. His mouth was watering, and he could feel himself drool at the decadence laid out there, belonging to him. Aegon finally got his legs to move, the firelight catching the cum that still streaked along the back of his hand, but he didn’t care. The bed dipped as he set a knee on the edge and he watched her large eyes shoot open, the nightgown slipping from her mouth.

“Aeg?” she choked out while he ran his fingers soothingly from the base of her spine. He felt her shudder and wriggle in her surprise, and it truly hadn’t occurred to Aegon that this might have gone far worse, that she might have shouted and screamed at the intrusion, that the guards might have found him here, or worse, his mother. He was too focused on the heat of her body against his with only his linen shirt separating them. Aegon marveled at the little freckles and moles that dotted along her back like droplets of ink against her flushed skin. On his knees beside her, Aegon draped himself over her so his arms bracketed her trembling body on the cusp of her peak.

“Shhhh, I’ve got you,” he promised. Aegon dipped his head down and was able to kiss the corner of her trembling mouth and moved to trace his lips and tongue over her cheek to capture at the salty lines of her frustrated tears. His right hand stroked along her arm and he groaned low against her soft skin when he felt the slippery wetness along the back of her wrist. “I’ve got you.”

Abby gasped and trembled and whatever protest she might have had gave way to a low whine at the feel of his touch. Aegon soothed her, kissing her cheek, the corner of her eye, nuzzling his nose into the softness of her hair. The scent of her bergamot oil clung to the damp curls at her temples and twisted a needy sort of pull low in his gut. He was desperate to dive his fingers the last few inches to join hers into the soaked treasure of her cunt, but instead he continued to stroke his fingers up and down her arm. The awareness that her breasts were free and ripe and waiting for him pulled a low groan that he unsuccessfully tried to muffle into her curls. “Come here, hunītsos,” he crooned, and pressed his palm against her quivering belly to hold her against him. Slowly, Aegon rolled them to the left, so he was on his side, her head resting on his arm and cradled in the curve of his body.

Aegon took the moment to meet her gaze fully and admire the way she looked in the firelight. Her eyes were wide and the ocean blue of them was a vivid rim around the black pupil that reflected the light. Her dark lashes fluttered and her mouth was swollen red and bitten near bloody from how she’d tried to keep her sounds in. He could see the scarlet smudged on the bit of her nightgown that she’d shoved into her mouth. Cradled as she was against him, Aegon drew the arm that supported her head around to slip beneath the edge of her rucked up nightgown and graze his fingers along the soft warmth of her breast, just there on the underside, and a slow smirk cut across his face at the way she jerked against him. Aegon glanced down and saw her pretty little toes curl into the bed.

“Good girl, ñuha hunītsos. Whatever is the matter?” He asked, his voice low, crooning softly to her like the skittish little rabbit he had named her. Abby whined and her feet pressed against his shins, tangling their legs, and the smile across his face grew. “Use your words,” he murmured against her temple. “Tell me what it is that has you so distraught?” His voice was low and soft, slow and soothing, and he relished in the way his words made her squirm against him. He felt a stirring in himself and instinctively his hips pressed against the bare curve of her ass, his palm hot and fingers spread across her soft belly. Aegon pressed her closer and his own eyes went half lidded as Abby’s fluttered.

“Please,” she whispered in a breathless tremble. Her pink tongue darted out to lick along her bitten mouth and he leaned down to brush his own against hers. He couldn’t help himself. There was no hesitation to slide his tongue along hers the moment their mouths met. The way her own was languid and needy all at once, the way he swallowed her exhales and she his. She tasted of plum cider and berry tarts from supper, the merest hint of copper from the blood on her ripe lips. “Please,” she said when they broke apart, and the hand that was not still between her thighs came up to cup his cheek.

Aegon did not flinch at the contact. No, there was never a reason to flinch at her hands touching his face. Instead, he nuzzled into the cool touch of her palm and nosed at the curve of it, desiring to taste her fingers, to nibble and drag his teeth along her wrist where her heartbeat lay.

“Tell me what you wish for, Abrogail,” he told her, his eyes fixed on hers, the gentle cadence of her full name on his tongue as familiar to him as his own. The logs in the fire popped and he watched her throat bob as she swallowed. Don’t tell me to leave, he silently begged. Let me adore you, let me touch you, let me taste and have you, let me know it’s alright.

“Please.” A third time. Songs said wishes needed to be said three times. “Let me be the only one you touch this way. Aegon? If you want to have me, let it only be me.”

I’ve never asked for anything from you, Aegon.

Aegon’s heart thudded as loud as a war drum, so loud he swore that it was echoing in the room. His eyes searched her face and she was guileless, as always, soft and pliant against him and he could see the way her own heavy lidded gaze searched his. A soft exhale escaped him when she pressed against him of her own volition this time, the fabric of his breeches all that separated his hardening cock from the curve of her ass.

I loved a maid as fair as autumn, with sunset in her hair. His Maiden, shivering from arousal, for a peak not yet reached, begging for him and begging to be his only. His Abby never asked for anything, and yet she asked for this. This one thing that people like them should never expect, never want.

“Should I be faithful to you,” he murmured with his mouth pressed against the soft pad of flesh at the base of her thumb, “my darling hunītsos, I can have you however I desire?” He had a thousand fantasies of how he’d take her. In her bed, in his, on the back of Sunfyre, in the solar, in the stables, the stairwell… and yet this moment gave birth to a thousand more and he was breathless with it.

His sharp teeth nipped at her palm and Abby jerked, the softest and most surprised giggle escaping her. Aegon couldn’t help but smile at the innocently playful sound and he pressed a kiss to her lifeline.

“Yes, you may,” she whispered. “Mo realta geal.” Aegon blinked in surprise at the foreign words, and it took him longer than he’d admit to realize she’d spoken the Riverlands tongue he hadn’t heard from her in years. Abby’s voice was such a blend of the lilt of her home and the accent of the Keep that he’d long stopped registering it, but the words that flowed from her, musical and light, brought it rushing back.

“What does that mean?” he asked, and she giggled softly, teeth scraping against her lower lip. “You’re not going to tell me?” Abby shook her head, a soft sound in the negative, and squealed when he snapped his teeth against her hand with a low growl. Aegon watched in fascination as the bite and growl had Abby’s answering squeals taper off into strangled moans, and he felt her body shudder and press tightly back, wriggling and shivering. The tugging low in his gut went straight to his cock and his fingers pressed against her belly to hold her in place while he rubbed himself against her backside.

Abby shivered and he felt her toes curl again against his calves. “A-aeg… please.” A strangled whimper, her eyes fluttering and face flushing a deeper shade of red that matched her hair.

“Please?” he asked, his fingers resuming the lazy touch along the petal soft underside of her breast, and his other hand stroked down her stomach to the soft skin above the thatch of red curls. Louder, Abby cried, and he leaned down to capture it before it could get too away from her. Her sounds belonged to him and him alone, and he wanted to taste them and see if they were as sweet as her penchant for all sweet things. “Touch you here?” He wasn’t really asking at all. Aegon stroked the back of his fingertips over her damp curls where her own fingers rested and shifted his mouth to drag his tongue along the bead of sweat coursing down her throat and took a taste of her pulse.

Her answering moan was all that he needed to finally join her fingers. He relished the way her body went taut and her back bowed, how violently she shook with the first experimental stroke of his middle finger skating feather soft over that bundle of nerves she’d been struggling with. His calloused fingers squeezed her breast soft in his palm, thumb swiping over the pebbled peak. Aegon swore he could see the way her blush bloomed like spring across her belly when he looked down to their hands, begging for him to drag his tongue across the clenching curve and the beads of sweat that gathered.

Aegon’s middle finger caressed further down, gliding through her slick folds and over her fluttering entrance to find a soft ridge of skin. Her maidenhead was still intact. The sound that escaped him was something he’d never felt before; the growl he made felt like it belonged to Sunfyre more than he.

His. That fragile bit of skin, that most intimate part of her that belonged to him. He imagined the little streak of crimson smeared on his cock while she writhed beneath and he throbbed painfully in anticipation.

Not tonight. He wanted to take care of her tonight. For now, he focused on his touch. The sound was just as wet and obscene as he’d imagined, the touch of her cunt wet and soft. “Are you going to help me, hunītsos? Tell me what you like.”

Abby whimpered and her hips rolled into his hand through clear instinct and she turned her face into his cheek. He hushed her softly, but not truly meaning it, for he wanted to hear every sound that escaped her so he could learn how to pluck her properly. “Or do you not know what you like, hm?” He kissed her nose and the curve of her cupid’s bow with soft, innocent pecks. “Is that why I didn’t see you peak?”

“I can’t… it’s too much,” she choked out, and her slick fingers gripped the wrist of his exploring hand. He could feel how the skin had wrinkled from how long she’d been working herself. He crooned wordlessly to her and licked along her quivering mouth, twisting his own hand to take hers and twine their fingers together, the back of her hand pressed into his palm.

Poor little thing. She could not have much of an idea of what she was doing if she had not been able to make herself come.There was the warm swell of pride in his chest that she’d never know pleasure that wasn’t by his hands and his mouth, and eventually his cock. That he’d get to do this for her, to treasure her this way, to make her feel the way no one else could ever hope.

Aegon hummed against her mouth briefly before lifting his head and taking a look at the way she was laid out before him. Her thin nightgown was gathered up beneath her arms and useless in covering any part of her and his own heated skin felt like too much. He still had his boots, and the weight of the dagger inside was still there.

Regretfully, Aegon pulled his hand away and the frantic whine that escaped her made him grin and nip at her nose.

“Come back,” she pouted, so very unlike her, and reached for him. The possessive feeling inside of his chest, that tender place where Sunfyre curled inside of him, flared hot and warm at her need for him - him and no one else.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, stroking his wet finger along her lip before he pulled away further so he could sit up. Her head lay on the mattress, the golden red halo of hair that escaped her braid wild around her face and she gazed up at him. Abby was a vision. He could see her shaking from how strong her arousal was, the spray of goosebumps along her skin, how achingly taut her pretty pink nipples were. Her hands reached for his shirt and he grinned, lifting his arms to reach back and pull his shirt over his head and tossed it to some other place that didn’t matter.

Immediately, her hands pressed against his belly. He’d regained some of his muscle since Cole had been putting him through his paces, and the lack of inordinate amounts of wine had ebbed away some of his softness. He groaned low at the feel of her slick fingers leaving streaks over his stomach and watched, mesmerized, as her hand moved down to tentatively stroke over the thick erection barely contained by his half laced breeches.

Aegon sucked in a long breath and reached out to stroke her hair back from her face while she touched him, his eyes trying to shut. But he kept his gaze focused on her face. Trembling, yes. Inexperienced, definitely. But instead of demure and fragile, hiding herself from him, his Maiden had propped herself up on an elbow and her soft face scrunched up in unrestrained curiosity. Pearly teeth bit at her lower lip and her eyes rolled up to meet his.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, cupping her cheek. In answer, his preening Abby leaned forward to press a kiss against his stomach. Aegon thought the Stranger would take him there. Thoughts of gently encouraging her to take him out and wrap her delicate fingers around him flooded his mind. How he’d tenderly guide her on how to please him, how to take him so he could rest his cock on the soft pillow of her tongue, how he’d watch her eyes as he disappeared inside her succulent mouth.

Fuck, he thought. I’ll come right now. Aegon felt like a new boy again, peaking in his breeches at the sight of a pair of tits and fluttering eyes.

The heated thrum of his blood had him thinking of taking the dagger from his boot to slice away her useless nightgown and he was going through the last threads of his restraint not to. She could keep that last beacon of her modesty, even when she was bare and open to him. Instead, Aegon moved to remove his boots and dropped them to the floor, the dagger finding a place on the side table. He nudged her aside so he could push her pillows up and then took his place reclining back against the headboard.

“Come here, ñuha hunītsos,” he commanded her. The gown fell back down when she moved over to him and uncertainty had pushed away the curiosity that lightened her features just a moment before. Her nerves were coming up and Aegon reached for her, grazing his fingers along her arms. “Only you, Abs, I promise.” Only her. He’d only touch her this way. She eased into his open arms. She was so pliable even while she trembled, exactly like a little rabbit, and it made him hungry. Gods above, he was a man starving. Before he could think better of it, Aegon reached up to the neckline of her gown and tore it in one swift, sharp motion. The sound of it giving way was as loud as the crackling fire and Abby’s beautiful eyes rounded, mouth falling open in shock and she squeaked.

“Aegon!” High pitched and barely a whisper, Abby was caught between giggling and scolding him, clutching at the torn edges of her nightgown. She was so deeply pink, she could be one of the blossoms in the garden. I want to write songs to the way you look right now. “What are you-”

He cupped her face and greedily drank from her mouth again, eager to hear and taste and feel more of those sounds from her. Eager to alleviate her nerves and to draw her back into the heavy lidded decadence she had just been in. He wouldn’t apologize for it either. Seven, he’d keep the ripped garment as a trophy, kept under his pillow to comfort him when he had only his hands for company. To pass away the endless days before she’d be in his bed every night.

Aegon drew her back in and she came into his arms, and something broke in the cage of his ribs to have her curled up against him, her breasts pressed up against his chest, every inch of her curved into his spaces, as if he were Galladon of Morne and she truly was the Maiden herself come down to love him. He’d been with women, too many to count and too much of a drunken haze to remember much, but here and now, it was seared into his memory with the boldest of color and sound and taste. To have her curled against him like this, whining and whimpering his name like a prayer made him drunker than his favored arbor red.

A final, tender kiss, and Aegon regretfully pulled away from the sweetness of her mouth to gently turn her so she was sitting in his lap. The gown had been lost and she was naked in his arms when he coaxed her to lean back. Her pert ass fit against his nearly painful erection, and her head rested back on his shoulder. “Relax,” he told her while he watched the way his splayed fingers encompassed her thighs and coaxed them apart to hook on either side of his slightly bent legs. He did not want to have her closing them during this. Aegon wanted her open for him.

“Fuck,” he muttered for the countless time against her shoulder and laved his tongue along the salty taste of her skin before pressing reassuring kisses against the trail. Abby squirmed, her hands coming up to cover herself and he let her have it for the moment. There was no harm in it, and it brought him such joy to see the way her delicate fingers spanned the soft weight of her breasts. “You’re so beautiful. Such a good girl.”

Abby gulped for air and nodded. “I try so hard.” He smiled against the curve of her shoulder and watched his fingers stroke along the damp, sensitive skin of her thighs.

“I know you do. You try so hard at everything. Let me do this for you, Abby. But you have to promise me something.”

“A-anything. Anything, Aegon.” So trusting. So fucking trusting and he swore he would be worthy of this unyielding faith she had in him.

“You told me you never asked me for anything-” She made a sound and moved to turn, but he bit down into the softness of her shoulder and instead she cried out in shock, in pleasure, maybe a light bit of pain. In the carriage, she has made the softest of moans when he’d tugged her hair, and the way her skin flushed when he cupped the fragile curve of her neck had heated his blood and made him curious what hidden desires he might coax from his hunītsos. His wanton little rabbit who desired him with such bright eyed eagerness, without fear or hesitation. Aegon soothed the bite with a kiss before continuing. “But I want you to ask me for more, to tell me when something feels good. I only desire your pleasure. Let me do this for you.”

Abby met his eyes then, and he could barely make out the beautiful blue in how blown her pupils were. Her pink tongue darted out to lick her lips.

“Yes,” she whispered and it sounded like a prayer, it sounded like relief as she sagged into his body, and when Aegon pressed his middle and ring finger against her mouth, she opened up and greedily sucked them down with the lingering taste of her clinging to his skin. His other arm held her close to him and he dragged his fingertips slowly up and down the center of her body, from between her pert breasts down her along the clenching muscles of her belly. The sound of her mouth went straight to his cock and Aegon carefully shifted against her ass to keep his own peak at bay. Slowly, he drew his fingers away and he didn’t hesitate to finally drag them once more between her folds. The sight of watching his hand there, against her curls twisted something deep inside of him that had his head spinning.

Abby was soaking. He could already feel the dampness running onto the front of his breeches and he let out a low, long moan of his own. “You sound like the heavens,” he told her with his mouth against the shell of her ear, tongue licking against the soft skin. Aegon took his time simply relishing in the way she felt, exploring the shape of her before he mercifully began to stroke his fingers against the bundle of nerves she struggled so much with. Abby let out a strangled cry and her body arched, but he held her tight, the same way he did when she tried to move too much on Sunfyre; to hold her close against him so the feel of her could sear into his skin, so she could feel the pounding of his heart in tune with hers.

“More,” she whispered in a strangled voice, and the curl of his grin was a feral thing against the shell of her ear. Her hips rolled into his touch even with the way he held her steady and the whine she made was a heady thing. “Too much,” she said almost immediately after the words spilled. He laughed and continued the steady rhythm of circling that precious spot.

“More and too much,” he teased, and Abby tried to arch again when he tapped gently, the sound of it soft and slick. Her toes spread out as her heels pressed frantically into the bed and he could feel the way she shook beneath his touch. Vibrating and threatening to fall. “You must have worked your poor little cunt for so very long to be this close already.” Aegon’s cock was aching. He felt like his balls would burst and if he couldn’t bury himself inside of her. He wanted to decorate her with his spend and trace it across her fire-touched skin.

Aegon kept the pace, fingers steadily increasing the pressure on that aching clit of hers. Slowly, his hand rose from where he pressed it against her belly to cup the breast he’d teased before. He barely had the time to relish the weight of it before the swipe of his fingers against that tightly pebbled nipple sent her falling over the edge, a cry so loud he had to quickly clap his hand over her gaping mouth so as not to alert her brother in the next room. It did little to stop her. If anything, Abby whined louder, shuddering against his body, her hips rolling up into his hand in a clear seeking motion. It was enchanting, a heady thing more intoxicating than the finest red wine, or her sweet ciders that he favored lately.

“Lykirī,” he commanded her and in response, Abby’s teeth caught on his fingers and nipped sharply. An amused laugh vibrated through him and puffed against her curls and Aegon slapped her cunt, his own teeth catching along the smooth column of her neck. Fingers now two knuckles deep in her warm mouth, he had to hook his leg around one of hers to keep her from squirming away. “I won’t leave you without seeing how you take me,” he promised. Warned, truly, while he pressed warm, wet kisses along the curve of her shoulder. He was pulsing against the curve of her ass, unable to help the roll of his hips up to try ease the ache.

Aegon’s middle finger traced her still fluttering entrance and gently, carefully, oh so tenderly, he pressed the blunt tip of his finger in. Her first peak would make it easier, but he was barely to the second knuckle before he bit down on the curve of her shoulder and let out a low groan.

Abby was a vice, tight and warm, and all he could think was ‘how the fuck am I going to fit?’

He needed to stop for his own self, for her to get used to the intrusion. Aegon was left gasping against her skin and trying to tell himself he couldn’t sink in all the way, that he couldn’t add a second digit and feel her stretch and whine. He didn’t want to hurt her. No, Aegon wanted to show her the pleasure she would find with him, in his arms, in their marriage bed. Abby choked around his fingers, pulling them from her mouth with a gasp, strings of spit connecting his hand to her swollen lips.

“Feels… feels… good.. You’re so good… to me…” she panted, and something warm and bright bloomed within his chest at her praise. Aegon’s finger pressed deeper and she rolled her hips up and he felt her arm squirm awkwardly between them, but he was too distracted by the warm vice of her body until he felt her soft hand over the hardness of him. He gasped and his own fragile whimper tore from him. Unbidden and instinctive, he rubbed his mouth against her shoulder and felt his vision going hazy and spotty. Aegon’s hips rolled up into her hand, wanting to bare himself to her and let her play and explore, but he realized that just as he had snared her into him, she had done the same. “For me?” she asked, and Aegon thought he was going to die. Another whimper, a choked gasp of laughter as he slowly sunk in as far as he could.

“Always,” he promised her. Her fingers squirmed and when she moved her body to give herself more room, it forced herself to ride his finger, which in turn made her tremble and shake. Abby’s petite grasp was scrambling against the half undone laces and Aegon’s hand moved with her body to help her work her hips against him. Her arousal was dripping onto his hand, the wet sound of their joining nearly better than the little grunts and shaky mewls she made. He tried to hush her and Abby lifted his hand to suck down his fingers again to muffle her sounds.

He was going to die. Aegon was going to die in this bed, his Maiden shimmering and shining from pleasure, the last thing he’d taste and touch and see. When her fingers managed to slip inside of his half-laced breeches, cool hands against his warm flesh, he was so utterly lost. Aegon groaned, her name a mantra as he bit down into the curve of her shoulder, his finger moving more frantically inside of her, curling up to find that spot that would make her shake. He hadn’t peaked in his breeches since he was a lad, and there he was, rutting up against her hand.

It was only through his own experience that he kept going until she followed him back over the edge, crying against the gag of his fingers and little rush of damp slipping across his palm while he worked her down. The feel of her squeezing his finger, and her own hand on him, had his mind spiraling, and it was taking everything in him not to shift her body over his and thrust his cock deep into her.

Aegon lost time after that. His head had gone fuzzy and hazy and when his senses had come back, his arms were wrapped around her. Abby had turned against him enough that she could press her face into his neck, and with heavy lidded eyes, Aegon watched her look at the way her own hand glistened with him.

Tentatively, Abby lifted her hand to her mouth and the tip of her tongue darted out to lick him from her finger.

He had died. Aegon Targaryen had died bringing his betrothed her first peaks, and came with just a touch of her hand like a kitling. Now he was in the afterlife, watching her savor the taste of him, smelling like bergamot and sugar, of sunshine and musk.

“You’re…” Aegon’s words trailed off and he nosed against her, licking his way into her mouth and tasting himself on her tongue. He had no words for what he felt. Her hands reached into his hair to tug and bury those messy fingers and Aegon didn’t care. His own hand, covered in her, stroked along her hip and hauled her closer to him, her breasts crushed against his chest, nipples dragging against his skin. Blindly, he reached for his discarded shirt and when they broke away, Aegon shifted them so he could slide his shirt over her head and do up the laces.

Abby was heavy limbed and flushed, the ocean blue of her eyes glittering beneath her drooping eyelids. She was a mess, and so was he, and had this been any other time, he’d order them a bath and fresh sheets. He’d cuddle her in the steaming heat of the water and see how quickly he could make her shatter, and guide her in the desperate dance she clearly was eager for.

For now, it was a secret thing. Something sacred, maybe holy.

Aegon knew nothing except that Abby was yawning and burrowing into his chest and he could do nothing but stroke her sweaty curls from her cheeks and press kisses against her freckles. The night was long ahead of them. There would be enough time to leave.

Not even his mother could tear him from her arms right now.

[Chapter Nine]

#fic: the maiden and the drowning boy #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fic #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon x oc #aegon ii targaryen x oc #hotd #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house strong #aegon x abby

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raccoonfallsharder · 11 months

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recommended works ⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

these are the folks who have written or drawn something (specifically within the rocket raccoon fan community) that either murdered me, resurrected me, or both.

(i am always open to recs so if you wanna link me to your fave i will be so happy to check them out)

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ fanfiction ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

The All of You (ao3) i fuckin love this story so hard. i love the OC. i love the writing. i love the set up. i reread this probably every month or so and pine for more. it's so fuckin good. @lazarel-3000 is a double-threat (at least) who is also on my recced artist list, which means (obviously) they are a recced creator as well.

Casino Royale (ao3) this fic by @hibatasblog (see also: Entanglement, below) is so fucking delightful. petra quill is so hot i want to date her myself, and the tension between her and rocket is through the roof. loving the angst, loving the little ways that heartbreak seeps through every new paragraph, loving the mystery of trying to figure out what happened to petra and rocket to set them on their separate paths and now bring them back together. always waiting anxiously for the next chapter.

Entanglement (ao3) this fic by @hibataao3 has me rationing my consumption in a way i have not done in a long time. i'm like "i only read one chapter a week to pace myself, as a little treat for surviving another seven days." beautiful writing and intricate storytelling, the metaphors and analogies are so good i almost wish i was back in undergrad writing a thesis on it.

Friends (tumblr) @nyxivy is making their way through the rocketober 2023 prompts and the first fic of the series is. so drool-worthy. i've probably read it fifty times since it came out. short and so hot i could die (much like rocket himself), and somehow incredibly sweet in just the span of a few paragraphs? i will continue coming back to this fic and look forward to more from them at every chance i get.

Get Up (tumblr)@caesarhamato22 is another person on my recced creator list because trying to find just one fic to call my "favorite" is a challenge (obviously i was unsuccessful because there are two on this list). anyway this is lovely and fluffy. i die.

last (friday) night (ao3) nsfw. trying to pick a "favorite" of @aliasrocket's work is like trying to choose a favorite incarnation of rocket (i cannot). guess who is also on my recced creators list.

more than seven (tumblr) second @caesarhamato22 fic on this list and another recced creator. this one is one of my favorite comfort fics (i mean it's still sexy as hell) that i come back to very often. like it's just so wonderful and sweet and perfect and atmospheric and vibes

stars. (tumblr) ☕︎ stars. (ao3) sexual tension & some of the loveliest atmospheric writing i've ever consumed. another @aliasrocket fic that lives in my head.

A Very Basic Instinct (tumblr) ☕︎ A Very Basic Instinct (ao3) nsfw. when i tell you this fic did things to me. it is probably one of the fics i reread most. like, all the time jkjk only semiregularly. check out the author @elegant-fleuret for other equally brainrot-inducing smut (also mentioned in my recced creators).

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ art ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@bathmob i wish. i could draw rocket. like this. the vibes are so good. the style. is perfect. i thank the universe whenever i see new art from them.

@glow-autumz is absolutely going to be a published comic artist some day and i will buy anything she works on ever. literally everything she creates has a story behind it, which i love. like, not only are her illustrations gorgeous (and like…often very hot) but every single one is (at least) a single-panel narrative. plus her OC is also cool as hell and i love her interpretations of rocket.

@lazarel-3000 creates the most toe-curlingly delicious art i've seen in a long time. i am seduced by pretty much everything they create. even their rough drafts have me panting. (i also have a crush on their OC and as a bi-lady i look at their art and am often like oh shit this is a fuckin feast). as mentioned before, this artist is also the author of one of my favorite fics and is a recommended creator in general.

@uglly-rodent posts always make me want to pinch the babby raccoom's cheeks and/or cry.

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ creators ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@aliasrocket writes such beautiful things it is impossible to pick a favorite (i got two of their fics in the fic section and it was difficult to narrow it down that far and even now, i'm not certain). their tumblr has the added advantage of a ton of drabbles, every single one of which is perfection.

@caesarhamato22 read everything. like everything. great smut but i am a sucker for the slice of life shit and it's so fuckin good here. i just wanna be a nail tech on knowhere/locked in a closet with rocket/have him steal my t-shirt/whatever. it's like all my most domestic desires got turned into little fanfiction dreams. so much wish fulfillment i could die

@elegant-fleuret has great fanfiction (more than just the one on my fic list - i just felt like i had to narrow it down and A Very Basic Instinct literally gives me a a fresh hit of dopamine every time i reread it, which is a lot). plus also art. double-threat.

@evolvingchaoswitch writes with a ton of vulnerability and rawness and angst. i am also in love with the shorter pieces they've been putting out for rocketober 2023 (some really great poetry, some really emotional oneshots, some really hot oneshots). plus their OCs always fuckin rock

@lazarel-3000 look. look. i cannot say this enough. please go check them out they are hope in a hopeless place. some of the sexiest art + one of my very favorite fanfictions + one of my very favorite OCs have come out of this flawless individual. (full disclosure they also did some nsfw art of my OC jolie and rocket that has me crying and dying and hyperventilating on a daily basis)

@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr has another one of my favorite OCs and i am always hungry for their little storylines whenever they post.

@mrwolfhare is one of my favorite sources of gotg food-for-thought. just some of the most thoughtful explorations of the details of both the mcu and comic canon, excellent headcanons, beautiful screenshot sets, and really solid art. the drawtober art and ficlets have been highlights in my days this month and i'm told there may be a rad fanfiction on the horizon so keep your eyes on this! (rad fanfiction is here now! read Subject 880HR on ao3)

#rfh recs #rocket raccoon content #fanfiction recommendation #rocket raccoon fanart #rocket raccoon fanfic #rocket raccoon fanfiction #fan art #fangirl #gotg #guardians of the galaxy vol 3 #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon

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woman-respecter · 7 months

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ok another problem with the dating app thing: pictures and appearance.

first of all i’m not ugly but i’m not “sexy.” i’m kind of cute/pretty in the way an australian shepherd is, but i don’t think anyone could think i was hot. then again, much uglier people than me have found relationships online and i’m not horrrible to look at so maybe not all hope is lost?

but the whole “not being hot” is exacerbated by the pictures i have. i do not take sexy pictures, or wear attractive clothes, or do anything like that. in fact i have taken very few selfies within the past few years. pretty much all the recent pictures i have are from trips which show me in cool places but i’m not like. dressed up or posing attractively anything. theyre pictures taken to send to my grandma and shit. so my profile would be like here’s me in japan/italy/ireland/the ocean but always wearing like. baggy jeans and a sweatshirt. i may seem interesting but i’ll look completely unfuckable. also i’m nearly always wearing a black tshirt and baseball cap. so while i may seem interesting i’ll look entirely unfuckable and being fuckable is usually what draws people in on The Apps.

how should i deal with this? should i go try to take sexy looking selfies or is that a tryhard move? should i post my vacation photos or does that make me look pretentious? also is it ok to post photos where i’m with my mom or is that weird? and do any other mid ladies have general advice on standing out on The Apps?

#i spent hours going thru my camera roll last night #folks it is bleak

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pullhisteeth · 1 year

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okay so… i’m aspec, and i wanted to start off with how much i love how you characterize eddie! his sweet persistent attentiveness is totally what draws me to him. anyway… since you asked for requests, what about eddie reacting to being told reader isn’t ready for sex yet, or maybe that juxtaposed with when they are ready? eddie being patient and happy to hold off… maybe putting an emphasis on nonsexual intimacy or even nudity without it being sexualized? idk just a few ideas, you don’t have to include the aspec stuff if you don’t want but just the reader not being ready and focusing on other ways to feel close to him would be amazing 🥺

hi!!! I found this in my drafts - I am so sorry it took me so long! big love 2 u. <3 (gn!reader, suggestive themes, angst, Eddie being a sweetheart, mention of drugs)

Frustrated, you bring your knees up and kick your comforter down, over your legs and to the end of the bed. The cool air hits your skin like a wave, and it brings enough relief that you can close your eyes for a moment.

The sheets feel like wet sandpaper tonight, clinging to every inch of you. Your pyjamas are nearly as bad.

You turn over and squint through the darkness at the clock beside your bed. It's just past two in the morning, and you huff another irritated noise when you realise you only have four hours until you have to be up for work. You can see it now: you'll drift off, hopefully, at some point in the next few hours, only to be rudely awoken at 6:15 by your alarm. You'll drag yourself into work, where Fiona, the lady you open with on a Friday, will tell you that you look like hell and offer you a modafnil. You'll decline, and when you clock off in the afternoon, you'll head home, fall asleep, and wake in the middle of the night to repeat the process.

You're not sure where she gets the myriad of drugs she seems to carry with her. For a while, you assumed she just had a hefty prescription – she's at least in her late fifties, and age hasn't dissuaded her from smoking a pack a day – but sometimes you catch her at the dishwasher or by the bins out back, swallowing something from another orange bottle. Once, when you were emptying the trash, you found one. It was Xanax.

Maybe there's a drug for this, you think. Because, surely, it's some kind of disorder, a syndrome, something abnormal. Your beautiful, lovely, sexy boyfriend, kind and wild and falling for you, and you still can't find that urge to rip his clothes off.

You turn onto your back again, head slotted between two pillows, and stare blankly at the ceiling, turning over the previous evening in your head. It burns, the embarrassment, like white-hot fire under your skin. Your hair flares, lifting from the hot shame, when you think about his face, the drop of his hands from your waist, the awkward way you let yourself out and came home. He didn't call.

"I'm gonna go clock out."

You reach behind your back to untie your apron, using your elbow to push through the kitchen door back into the diner. Fiona barely turns to acknowledge you from where she's hunched over, polishing a glass, giving a short noise of agreement as you make your way to the staff room. You pull yourself through your routine, throwing the apron in the hamper and shoving your timecard into the machine, before you stop before you reach for your bag.

You realise that you have no way of getting home.

Eddie usually picks you up, but he won't be here today. And you're tired, so tired, too tired to walk home. You'd only finally gotten to sleep a few hours before you woke, just as you'd expected. Your legs feel like lead.

As you mull over your options, you pull your bag over your shoulder and grab your jacket. And when you push the door open, you nearly cry, because sat in his usual spot, right by the door, is your stupid, lovely boyfriend.

He looks up at you when he hears the door, and the first thing you notice is how tired he looks, too. He's a little puffy, almost like he's only just woken up – his hair tells you the same, curls going wild amongst one another, sticking out at every angle. He wears a sad smile as his gaze lingers on you, and you feel yourself nearly crumble under it.

He stands as you make your way over. Just as he does every day, he takes your bag from you and slings it over his own shoulder, and he reaches out and takes your hand, and it's then that you let go.

The tears come quicker than you can stop them, silent, hot rivers running down your face. He tugs gently on your hand, urges you out of the door, not giving his usual quick-whip goodbye to Fiona, and pulls you across the lot to his van.

When he opens the door for you as he always does, helping you in and dropping your bag by your feet, he rubs your knee with one hand and takes your face in the other.

"We're gonna talk about it when we get home, 'kay?" he says, and his voice sounds just as tired as he looks. "Please don't cry."

All you can give him is a nod, but he takes it, squeezing your knee as a quick goodbye before closing the door and jogging around to his side. The ride home is quiet, besides your sniffling, and his hand plants back on your knee for most of it. You look out the window and feel the sun on your face, made hotter as it passes through the glass. Your eyes close and you breathe, and as it paints your skin with a golden heat, you begin to think that maybe this won't be as bad as you've made yourself believe.

You like Eddie's home, perhaps moreso than your own. Yours is lonesome, but Eddie's is full of love. His uncle likes photographs and souvenirs and clutter, and it makes their little trailer feel like the warmest place on earth.

Today, though, it's tainted, edges burned by the memory of the night before. You daren't think about it, too worried about crying more than you already have, but it's difficult when you have to look at the door you slammed in Eddie's face 18 hours ago.

"C'mon," he says, squeezing your thigh and opening his door. You pull your bag onto your knee and do the same, hopping out and following him slowly up the steps. Inside, he takes your bag again, hanging it on a hook by the kitchen, while you take off your sneakers and traipse over to his couch. You don't dare to sit down, though, until he's back by your side pleading with you to.

"What's got you all wound up, hm?" he asks, taking your hand in his, and his voice is like honey, making you want to cry again. You breathe in a short, sharp breath instead and try desperately to ignore the white-hot burn of exhaustion and shame behind your eyes.

You sit and he follows, using his other hand to wipe away the tears as they come. You must look a mess, you think, all tired with huge, dark marks beneath your eyes and cheeks wet from crying. But he's looking at you like he always does, fond as ever.

"Why'd you run off like that last night?" he asks.

"I-" You try to answer, but the words are lost on you, lodged in the thickness of your throat. His arms wind around you and you lean in, lost to the familiarity of it. Your sobs, broken by hiccups and broken breaths, are in freefall.

He soothes you, leaning back so you're lying on his chest. His hands run up and down your back as he kisses the crown of your head and whispers that it'll be okay, that you're okay, we're okay.

"I'm sorry," you say into his t-shirt.

"For what?"

You wish you could tell him, and you wish he wouldn't ask. Isn't it obvious? You stormed out, you slammed the door in his face, you didn't call, you let it get this far, you led him on knowing you'd feel like this.

"For crying on your shirt," you say.

He chuckles and you feel it, the deep rumble of laughter in his chest. He twists underneath you, turning the two of you on your sides to lie facing one another, mostly so he can get a good look at your face.

"I have other shirts," he tells you.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising."

"Sorry."

He laughs again and you can't help but break a smile.

"So," he begins. "Why'd you go?"

"I just…" You sigh and he sees the way your face twists, contorting into something like frustration, so he eases the grip of his arms around you to let you sit up. You do, leaning on his bent knees, and look up to the ceiling.

"I feel… I feel like I've led you on."

"What?" He sounds surprised, which in turn surprises you, because surely he can see that that's what's happening here.

"Eddie, I don't know how to… I can't explain it."

He doesn't say anything. The couch dips and creaks as he sits up, knees crossed, opposite you, imploring you to try.

"I... I can't give you what I'm meant to."

He looks back at you bewildered, and for a brief flash you feel the burn of frustration. You'd usually find this endearing, but all of this would be easier if he would fill in the blanks by himself.

"I don't want to have sex, Eddie."

You watch the dawning of realisation on his face, the twist and the widening. His eyes search your face as you hold it in, the dam close to bursting again, and then he softens.

"Oh, baby, you should've just said."

He reaches over, a hand on your ankle, holding you there as if to stop you leaving.

How could you ever?

"What do we do?" you ask him after a beat. You're looking at one another, you at him because you're sure this is the final time you'll get the chance, and him at you because he's sure he's never loved anybody like this before in his life.

"What do you mean?"

"Eddie, don't make me-"

"You're not leaving me," he tells you. It's not a question, or a plea, but a statement of fact. You're here, with me. You're not going anywhere. I'm not going to make you go anywhere.

"I don't want to," you say quietly.

"And," he begins, inching closer, taking your waist in his big hands to pull you in. "I'm not leaving you."

He resumes his position on his back, you pressed comfortably to his chest. You feel his heartbeat, quicker than usual, and feel a pang of remorse that you've made him so nervous.

You think back to the evening before - when he'd got handsy, and you'd liked it, but then the clothes had started coming off and you'd freaked, pulling your things into a bag and running out the door before he could stop you - and it's suddenly muddied by distance, a memory trapped somewhere far away.

"I'm just not ready," you tell him, cheek to his chest, feeling his fingers run through your hair.

"'S'okay," he murmurs. "I'll be here if you ever are. Or if you never are. Either way."

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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deny-the-issue · 9 months

Text

Rainbow Drabble Challenge

Yellow

64.media.tumblr.com

GIF by gameofthronesdaily

Red, Orange <- Previous Chapter, Next Chapter -> Green, Blue, Indigo

Overall Summary: This is a short love story about Otto Hightower being a sexy bastard. There WILL be a happy ending. The reader is mid to late twenties in age.

Chapter Summary: You gift Ser Otto a small token of appreciation.

AO3 link

Rainbow drabble challenge

link to divider

[spinster!reader] [Otto Hightower x f!reader] [fluff] [626 words] [Yellow expressed as optimism and friendship]

The dreaded day has come, and Ser Otto’s mood has suffered the brunt of it. His scowl sends the servants running, lest they draw his ire. He worries the gravity of his emotions has spread too far when you walk into his office with the same shy demeanor.

Then he spies a lacquered wooden box held by your delicate, nervous hands, and curiosity wipes the thought from his mind’s eye.

You have read every text Ser Otto has to offer, except for a single chapter. He knows you feigned exhaustion the evening before. How could he not? It is part of his duties to know when someone is lying. It is also not in his nature to deny the chance to spend more time with you.

You stand perfectly poised in front of his desk, finally meeting his gaze. A beautiful blush paints your face as you gently clear your throat.

“My lord, I would like to present you with a token of my appreciation for allowing me to study your texts these past weeks.”

Raising his brow in stoic interest, he takes the offering, hands touching for a heartbeat before you retreat. The contact made him greedy for the intimate and obscene, something he could only dream of in the loneliness of his private chambers. Cool eyes cast down to the box as he lifts the hinged lid.

Inside lay five bare quills in a neat row atop rich green velvet. They seem finer than the ones he typically uses at first glance. He’s inspecting one in his hand when you begin to explain.

“They are crow’s feathers, my lord. I was told they produce a finer line than any other.”

Ser Otto nodded in agreement. He was told the same but due to their more expensive nature, he chose to remain with the common goose feather for his missives. However, his hand often cramped after long hours of writing, and he wondered if the finer edge would save him that pain.

“Thank you, my lady. It is a most gracious gift,” he politely accepts the gift, his voice cold and unaffected by his internal turmoil.

“It is the least I could do, my lord, for encumbering you with my presence for so many evenings. If you would indulge me one more kindness–may I hand deliver your portrait in a month’s time?”

“You may,” his answer is curt, but you wouldn’t know it from the brilliant smile lighting up your face.

Anger flares in Ser Otto’s belly. Not for you, but for the absolute yearning you instill. So honorable he has lived, where other men visit pleasure houses, Ser Otto upholds his morals. He would take no whore, and the mere thought of ruining you disgusts him. To rip you of your worth for a moment of bliss is unthinkable.

The emotion leaks into his expression, stealing your smile with it.

“I’ll take my leave— I know my lord is a busy man. Farewell, Ser Otto, may your days be kind.”

“To you, as well, my Lady.”

The door shuts behind you, leaving Ser Otto to reflect in cold silence. Whatever warmth these chambers provided left with you, and he could feel the loneliness creeping up his spine. The sight of your gift wards off the cold, and the light weight of the quill in his hand brings forth the memory of the warmth you so effortlessly tended.

A smirk pulls the corner of his lips as he remembers your feigned exhaustion the day before. You make such a beautiful liar, with an innocence he cannot even think of punishing.

A month cannot come soon enough. Even if the portrait isn’t up to his standards, at least he would be in your presence once again.

#otto hightower #otto hightower fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd fanfiction #hotd #hotd fanfic #eventual smut #fluff #otto hightower x reader #fem!reader #rainbowdrabblechallenge

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years

Text

Amazing, Showstopping, Glamorous Blue Lock Headcanons That Are Definitely True Ego Told Me So #1

Inspired by a friend and I yelling about Blue Lock lately. Some of these are yours, friend. Thank you for contributing to my madness :D

Don't now if I'm gonna make a part 2 but eh? We'll see where my next fever dream takes me.

Isagi un-ironically Naruto-ran throughout middle school. He thought it made him look cool and increased his speed. One day he was full blown running across the soccer field and took a heavy nose dive- breaking it. He stopped doing it after that.

Raichi's playlist is entirely made up of early 2000's/2010's pop hits. I'm talking Britney Spears, Destiny's Child, Ariana Grande, and his queen herself- Lady Gaga. Knows all the songs and dances and performs them at 2 am in the Blue Lock cafeteria when he thinks no one's up. Has been walked in on multiple times.

Chigiri has a very specific set of bookish characters that if their name is even referenced he will throw hands. You wanna see this soft spoken shy princess swear up a storm? Drop a name. "Hey Chigiri, who's Gale Hawthorne-" "Don't you ever speak that bastard's name in my presence again."

Kunigami loves All Might from My Hero Academia. He's not at the collector level Deku is in the show but he'll quote the Number 1 Hero ("Former-" "We don't talk about the other guy, Isagi. There's only All Might"). Only Isagi knows what he's saying; everyone else has heard "Plus Ultra" but doesn't really get it.

Bachira is a fantastic artist. He gets it from his momma and it shows! He likes to draw the monster a lot, but he has drawn everyone in the room at least once. Whenever he draws his friends, they'll have little decorations associated with them. (Kuni's got a cape, Chigiri's got a tiny crown, Isagi has his own monster.)

Nagi can do the worm. He does mainly when he's already on the floor and is too lazy to stand, so he just kinda wiggles over to wherever he needs to go. No one knows where he learned it but it's absolutely hilarious to watch.

Sae speaks fluid Spanish from his time in Spain. This comes very apparent after Shidou pissed him off so badly he chewed him out in it. The mentioned man finds it really sexy, even if Sae's calling him a "Colossal hemorrhoid I have the displeasure of having stuck up my ass."

Despite his love for Horror games/movies, Rin is beyond easy to jump scare. His argument is that in those settings he's prepared to get spooked. Bachira can be as silent as the wind when he wants to be, so accidental (and a lot of times intentional) spooks are common between them. ".......Hi Rin!" "FU-!"

Chigiri is a great singer but horrifically shy about it. He sings in the shower when he's sure no one is around. Most of the tunes he sings are ones his sister introduced him to- things like "Uptown Girl" and "Tiny Dancer"; but he knows a handful of newer ones. One time Bachira walked in on him. The dribbler told everyone he knew about it but Chigiri flat out refuses to sing in front of anyone so it's more a rumor.

Reo on the flip side is a horrible singer and refuses to believe anything otherwise. In his head, he is a god of vocals. In reality, he sounds like Toad from Super Mario getting tased in the balls. Nagi has learned the art of tuning him out, so he's no help in disproving Reo's false beliefs.

Gagamaru has been the resident bug catcher since the Blue Lock Spider Incident of 2018. He's the only one brave enough to gather them up in his hands and put them outside.

#Blue Lock #headcanons #brainrot hours #no spoilers unless you count Sae and Shidou being mentioned but nothing story/plotwise is dropped #isagi yoichi #bachira meguru #kunigami rensuke #chigiri hyoma #raichi jingo #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #rin itoshi #sae itoshi #shidou ryusei #gagamaru gin #I made myself laugh with these #thank you again to my friend (you know who you are)#You were the inspiration for these can't deny #ASGBLHCs

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Text

The Science Teacher & The Skeptic

Joel Miller x Science Teacher!Reader

Summary: "who cares about space when there's a fuckin apocalypse going on"

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: crackfic, fem!reader, headcanons, joel 'im a contractor 🤠' miller, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: ok this is borne of out me geeking about about the film 'the beautician and the beast' to @sloanexx and she's actually the author im just ghost writing it so if you wanna p2 you're gonna have to take it with her. dont shoot the messenger im blue just for consistency HAHAHH in this Tagging: @multifandom-fangirl4 @pinksirensong @aralezinspace

she can be a teacher at the qz

HOLY SHIT

he meets her bc she teaches ellie ✌🏻

OMG

!!!!!! STOP IM GETTING EXCITED FOR IT NOW

[post chat me] THIS RAT FINNA TALK TO ME ABOUT A FIC SHES EXCITED ABOUT AND NOT WRITE IT COS SHES 'NOT A WRITER' BROS ALREADY A WRITER JUST BASED ON THAT

joel never went to college so he thinks she's like super cool for

knowing shit about space and stuff

but at the start he lowkey hates her bc he thinks she's a snob maybe???

idk

GIRLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

GRILL

i do have saur many ideas-

[post chat me] YA DONT FUCKIN SAY 😪🙄🙄🙄

-for this tho like ellie loves her and comes home like

this teacher is so cool she knows so much abt space and stuff

bestie please write it

[post chat me] oh you sweet summer child shes not going to

and joels like who the fuck is this lady

BESTIE IM BEGGING

who cares about space when there's a fuckin apocalypse going on

joel is like you know what a real lesson is?

how to shoot a gun.

how to dress a wound.

not fucking stars and planets

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

BESTIE DO IT PLEASE

and ellie's like k cool wtv im going to school now

DO IT PLEASE PLEASE I BEG OF YOU

AND THEN THEY MEET BC JOEL GETS MAD AT ONE OF HER HOMEWORK HAHAHAHAHAHAH

he sees her drawing constellations and he's like this is fucking bullshit

THE WAY I GASPED

im gonna talk to ur teacher bc this isn't survival

BESTIE YOURE ALREADY WRITING IT SO PLEASE DO IT FOR ME

NO I CANT

[post chat me] 🙄🙄🙄🙄

ok so he confronts her in school right

OMG AND THEN

and he's like i wanna talk to the teacher who gave this homework

spicy

[post chat me] honestly hes such a karen for that ????

and they meet and he's like

this isn't survival skills there's an apocalypse going on and u have her drawing stars like a 5 year old???

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

and she's like u fockin wot m8????

>😀

there wouldn't be an earth if there weren't any planets!!!!

how else would we know how oxygen is formed and how the tides turn to get water!!!!

you big dodo bird

survival isn't all guns and shooting bc if that's all it was the rest of the world would be alive rn!!!!

and he's like oh fok me she fights back

>😞

omg he creamed his pants

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

and he runs home with his tail between he's legs

and he opens one of ellie's space books

and he's like this shit cool

joel wrong sexy teacher right

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

YOU HAVE TO WRITE THIS PLEASE I AM BEGGING YOU

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

im having so much fun just telling u

im smiling at my phone like an idiot

[post chat me] well you are an idiot 🤬🤬🤬

TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE FIC AND ILL COMPILE IT FOR YOU YOU LAZY BABY

HAHAHSJSHSHSHSH

what else is there to know

hmmm

he spends the night reading the space book and the next day he asks ellie like

umm hey can u teach me more about this space shit

OMG

and she's like no old man you wanna know more you go ask my teacher

ahHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IM SCREAMIN

and he's like .... i don't wanna bc im embarrassed but i also rly wanna know abt how the earth goes around the sun? bc that's cool

WHAT IF THIS WAS MY LAST STRAW

>😭😭😭😭

[post chat me] this modern day man doesnt know shit about the sun that so embarazzing are you not embarazzed the american school system has failed him so hard 💀💀💀💀💀

and he goes to the school and he waits for all the kids to leave bc he's embarrassed and he's like

so... the planets. they all turn around and shit? that's how we get night and day

and she's like yuh m8

KEEP GOING IM CRYING

and he's like um could you tell me more...

HES SO LOVELY

and she's like ok how about you come meet me for an hour every week after my class on wednesday

and he fucking treats that like church

waiT WAIT OMG

SHES LIKE

want to attend my class <3

we'd love to have you

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UPPP

DONT TELL ME HE SITS IN CLASS WITH THE KIDDOS

and ALL THE KIDS ARE LIKE HEY MR MILLER

HE WOULD NEVER HED SHOOT HIMSELF FIRST I THINK

THEN THEY SHOW HIM THE MACARONI STARS

[post chat me] there are two types of writers AHAHAHH

OK WAIT

MAYBE

NAURRRRRR

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

he lurks outside to listen and learn but

she catches him and is like um???

do u just want me to teach u bc all u had to do was ask

AWWWWWW

THEN HES LIKE IM A CONTRACTOR I CAN MAKE A WAYY BETTER SOLAR SYSTEM

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

u didn't have to like.. sit outside the class just to learn

>😭😭😭

FRRRR JUST TAKE A SEAT

he uses all his tools to make the best goddamn solar system

OMG HE FUCKING REDOES THE CLASSROOM AND MAKES IT SPACEY AND SHIT

and he shows it to her at their weekly session all proud

and she gives him a gold star sticker

places it on his jacket

DEAD

HE NEVER TAKES IT OFF

NEVER WASHES THE JACKET

ew stinky

HAHHAHHAH I LOVE IT

he preserves it

>😔

bc he doesn't want it to get ripped off

when he uses it our

*out

HAHAAH WHAT IF SHES LIKES *pinches nose* joel? is- is your washing machine broken 💔💔💔💔

HAHAHHAHAH

STOP

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

NOOOOOO

he'll shoot himself right there and then

AND THEN HE NEVER COMES BACK

HELLPPPP

walk to a clicker and beg it to bite

EW [HE] WOULDDDD

IM CRYINGGGGGGGG

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

ELLIES LIKE HAHAHAHAH

if i was writing it i'd stop it at him doing up the classroom like u said

like some time after their weekly sessions he does that

and she's like

i think i like this dumb old man

OMG AND THEN

you cant stop thereeeeeeeeeee

BUT ITS PERFECT

LKASJHFKJASASF OK OK

Fin

[post chat me] ok ok bonus cos she still went on 🙄🙄🙄🙄`

it's the intrigue that makes it nice

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

p2 where joel comes for show and tell HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

ahhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

THE SOUND THAT LEFT MY MOUTH

AND HES LIKE SO PROUD FOR BEATING 12 YEAR OLDS PLEASEEE ✋✋✋

IM A CONTRACTOR 🤠🤠🤠🤠

he fucking hates it and is miserable at first the whole time

but then he sees her supporting him so earnestly and then he's like oh shir i like it im gonna send these 12 year olds into the ground

make them eat dust

hELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

NAURRRRRRRRR

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