#High quality face mask

[leresq]

A mask of my own face

I'd wear that

I'd wear that

I'd wear that mask of my own face

[risingsunresistance]

hey guys barry is in ark's house what do we do answer quickly

[fairiencarnate]

Y'know #skinneutrality and all that but some days I just really wish my skin didn't hurt, itch, or make others think I don't wash

[fear-is-truth]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐓, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑

— charlie mayhew x nun!reader. | mdni

tags: mature content 18+・blasphemy・fem!reader・unprotected p in v・not proofread

a/n: i’m sorry

FATHER CHARLIE MAYHEW sits back in a wooden chair, dark eyes following you closely, but not with the sanctity expected from a priest. he’s holding a bible in his hand, fingers idly brushing the worn edges, but the words that come out of his mouth have strayed far from the expected teachings.

��celibacy,” he declares, “is a widely misunderstood concept. it’s not about abstaining, but about control. mastery of the flesh, not rejection of it.”

you’re sitting across from him, hands folded neatly in your lap as you tried to maintain a composed front. you don’t bother to mask the skepticism in your tone. “is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night, father? that indulging a little bit isn’t breaking your vows?”

the soft mockery didn’t deter him. if anything, it fueled him. his expression does not falter; in fact, he smiles wider. “ah, but sister. did christ not spend forty days in the wilderness, surrounded by temptation, and come out stronger? his words are laced with arrogance, each one delivered as if it were irrefutable truth. the towel around his waist slips just a little, revealing more skin, but he makes no effort to adjust it. his gaze never leaves yours, and the audacity of it all strikes you.

“is it not written that to know sin, one must overcome it?

under current circumstances, charlie mayhew is a man of contradictions—utterly confident despite his obviously flawed reasoning. it’s impossible to tell if he truly believed what he was saying or if he simply liked bending the truth for his own purposes.

“so what you’re telling me,” your voice carried a soft lilt, lips curling as you meet his gaze, “is that celibacy is… negotiable now? sounds a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

slowly, you rise to your feet, deliberately turning away before bending down. the slit in your black habit parts slightly, revealing fishnet stockings, the round curve of your ass visible through the thin fabric.

“indulgence is sin when it lacks discipline,” he replies without skipping a beat, but there’s a new, raspy quality in his voice now.

“but when it’s controlled—when you allow yourself to feel something and rise above it—that’s where true strength lies. that’s power. that’s faith.” he’s idly stroking himself, slow pumps of his hand around the throbbing length. taking your own sweet time, you made a show of adjusting the strap on your high heels and allowing him to see the red lacy thong underneath as the slit falls open a bit more.

“besides,” he continues, “what’s the harm in understanding sin—up close? is it not our duty to learn the limits of our restraint, to test our strength?”

not answering, you simply sashay toward the priest, heels clicking softly against the floor, until you stop directly in front of him. his eyes follow your every movement as you free yourself of your garments, though the smirk on his lips never falters. you reach down and tilt his chin up with one finger,

“for someone who preaches so much about temptation,” you purr, “you sure don’t seem eager to resist it.”

he raises a brow, but before he can respond, you swing a leg over his lap, straddling him with deliberate slowness. your hand slides down his chest, fingertips brushing against smooth skin. his breath catches as one of your hands grazes over his toned abs, while the other squeezes his face with a teasing pressure.

“tell me, father.”

leaning in, you press your lips to his. when he doesn’t pull away, you deepen the kiss, gently pulling his lower lip between your teeth. his breath shudders as you release him, eyes scorching with lust.

“is this what you had in mind when you swore to be devout?”

a stretched groan escapes his lips when you guided the tip of his shaft between your slick folds. carefully, you sink down onto him, relishing in the tight, hot stretch—inch by glorious inch. your eyelids momentarily flutter shut as you were fully impaled on his cock, and just when you thought he’s about to kiss you again, charlie dips his head down. you gasped when you feel his tongue tracing slow circles around the areola before finally wrapping his lips around your nipple.

“ooh,” you manage to breathe out, and you immediately feel him smile against your breast. charlie starts to thrust up into you, his girth stretching you out to the extent that you can practically feel every ridge and bump of the veins that scattered along his length dragging against your walls. ripples of pleasure course through your body, the cross pendant you wore around your neck bouncing between your breasts with the motion.

the small room is soon filled with the slapping sounds of skin on skin, coupled with the wet suction of your pussy swallowing his cock, occasionally punctuated by your whimpers and his moans.

it doesn’t take long for the hot coil inside of you to snap. a powerful orgasm tears through your body, inner walls convulsing around him. within seconds, his seed is spurting into your womb, triggering aftershocks that left you trembling like a leaf in high wind.

charlie’s head falls back to rest against the wall behind him, as his cock continued to twitch deep inside you, residual spasms in sync with the weak fluttering of your pussy around him. your body is still tingling, a pleasant, dizzy warmth spreading through you.

“jesus…” you mumble, the words slipping out before you can stop them. he chuckles dryly, the sound rumbling through his chest as his hand lazily trails up your back.

“no, sister.” he murmurs, toying with a strand of your hair, gently tugging.

“it’s ‘father charlie’ to you.”

masterlist

��� fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[youthxtractorganics]

Gold face masks have been making waves in the beauty industry, promising radiant, youthful skin with their luxurious golden hue. From celebrities to skincare enthusiasts, many have embraced the trend, but the question remains: Do gold face masks really work? In this blog post, we will dive into the science behind gold face masks and explore their potential benefits for your skin.

[raspberrysmoon]

God as my witness - Out of the Depths of Hell - chapter one

content and trigger warnings- blood/gore, death, involuntary manslaughter, first degree murder, swearing (of course)

The plan would be simple. They get in, he.. pisses himself, supposably, and they get out. And he leaves them alone until graduation. That was the plan. that would stay the plan.

Grace grins at them as she explains herself. She points around the whiteboard in her room as she talks, carefully detailing exactly how the night would go.

- She unlocks the Waylon Hall. Her dad is the realtor, he has the keys.

- They get inside. Richie will set up two stationary camera angles, one facing the door, one facing where Ruth will be as the skeleton, if that has to happen. Richie will film the entire process.

- Ruth and Pete will change into their respective costumes. Grace and Steph will find where they need to sit to be hidden from Max the whole time.

- Richie finds the angle he needs to film Max as he moves through the room.

- Max arrives. Richie films.

- They let Max call for Steph. He calls for almost thirty seconds before Pete jumps out to scare him.

- He gets scared. If he doesn’t, send Ruth.

- Prosper.

Steph doesn’t think it’ll work, if she’s honest. There are too many variables, not enough for-sures. She texts Max anyway, and shows up at The Waylon Place exactly when she’s supposed to.

Grace unlocks the Waylon Hall. If everything goes to plan, her dad will never even notice they had stepped foot on the property.

It’s dark- Steph figured that much- and it’s wet. It hadn’t rained in days. She can’t pin point if it smells like mold or not. She figures it must, if she can’t tell. Pete winces as the floorboards creak. She finds herself having to stop herself from reaching for him, for Ruth and richie. grace seems to know exactly where to step to be quiet. she points at a weak board and tells them quietly to avoid it.

They get inside. Richie will set up two stationary camera angles, one facing the door, one facing where Ruth will be as the skeleton, if that has to happen. Richie will film the entire process.

Steph doesn’t know where Grace got the cameras she hands Richie. She figures she probably doesn’t want to ask. They seem to be good quality- they look similar to the ones her dad uses for interviews sometimes. They’re good cameras, and based on Richie’s squeal, he’s never held something so expensive. He's gentle with them as he and Ruth set up the tripods in dark corners. There are plenty of dark corners in the waylon hall. Both Ruth and Richies disappear as they work.

Richie turns on the third camera with a grin.

Ruth and Pete will change into their respective costumes. Grace and Steph will find where they need to sit to be hidden from Max the whole time.

Ruth is a skeleton- a shitty costume from spirit halloween that grace had bought that morning. Her mask fogs up and gets wet in nearly thirty seconds. Steph watches her quietly, carefully ignoring Pete stripping on the other side of the room. She doesn’t need to look at him. That'll make it all worse.

He’s a ghost. The costume is a combination of three or four different ones that were probably out of Grace’s basement. Stephs pretty sure she doesn’t want to ask about them. They don’t seem clean. Pete's hands shake, and they make eye contact. Richie is saying something, waving his hands wildly. Pete flushes, and snaps at his friend quietly. Richie's arms drop, seemingly defeated. Grace grabs her arm with a grin, pointing to their hiding spot. Steph nods, and Grace dashes back off.

Richie finds the angle he needs to film Max as he moves through the room.

Steph’s pretty sure Richies had the angle since they got there. He practices his movement, mapping out exactly where Pete will be, where Max should be, when, why- all to himself, just too quiet to understand. Pete watches him, fiddling with the strings on his costume. Ruth has herself shoved in a corner with her bag, headphones on high. Steph has to wonder if this will give any of them a heart attack. Then, she wonders if she cares.

She does.

Max arrives. Richie films.

Max gets to The Waylon Hall early. Pete is barely out of sight when he bursts through the door, calling for Steph. repeatedly. She wonders if there's anything in this place that him yelling could wake up. Anger. She figures it doesn’t matter.

Pete steps out. Max, to his credit, doesn’t freak. She remembers, once, that Max was scared of stuff like this. like, terrified. ..They were seven. It's fine. It'll be fine.

*********

Max yelps, and backs away, talking loudly. He says something to himself, stomps a beer can, and charges. Pete yelps, shutting his jaw and all but jumping off the stair he’s on into a small hole, knocking into a camera, much to Richie’s audible displeasure. Max grins, flexing as he crows about his supposed victory. He didn’t seem to notice richies groan or the camera falling. Steph bites her lip, glancing at Grace, who seems displeased.

Steph decides this is where the plan is beginning to go off the rails.

Ruth is sent out, visibly trembling, and despite Max’s initial, incredible strong fear, he doesn’t see to have any qualms with charging her, too. He shouts something about his dad and.. cucking, and grabs Ruth's shitty costume shirt. Grace grins suddenly, pulling her phone out to personally film the encounter.

Max doesn’t get to do much more than spit in the skele’ens face before Steph decides she needs to do something. Anything. She tears herself away from Grace, and calls to Max.

His first reaction, weirdly, is to throw Ruth to the side and grab Steph, wrapping his arm around her almost protectively. It reminds her for a second of how he used to. Before he was Max Jagerman. He's shaking.

“We gotta get outta here, Annie, it’s not safe. This place is hella haunted.”

Steph groans. “Its not real, stupid! That's not a ghost, it’s-” Pete steps out, and she almost falters. He looks different, with his glasses off. “It’s Peter Spankoffski.”

Max blinks down at her, then at Pete, then at Ruth, who’s maskless and standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Richie, who doesn’t seem to be filming anymore. Grace is standing a few feet away, fuming. Max perks up.

“Wait.. you nerds did this for me?” He sounds like his dad. Collectively, they nod slowly. Max grins. “Man, really? ..Huh. Maybe y’aren’t so nerdy.” Pete scratches at his neck. Max’s attention snaps to the movement, pointing at Pete excitedly. “The ghost! oh, you came out, dude, and my heart was like, pounding!” He smacks his chest for emphasis. Pete flinches, but manages a smile. Max’s grin grows. Steph wonders if his tail would be wagging, if he had one. He looks almost dopey.

Max whips around, grinning now at Ruth, who shuffles behind Richie anxiously. Max points at her, climbing up onto the stairs for emphasis as he speaks, “Dude, the skele’un?” Ruth winces, eyes wide and trained not on Max’s face, but his fists. “That? was really special. bravo, Fleming.” He bows, seemingly only half serious, leaning just so on the board of the stair he stands on.

And he falls. Richies camera hits the floor with a slightly metallic thunk as the stair boards snap and Max screams as he drops into what must be total darkness. He screams like he used to, when Steph and Kyle would team up on him in sports before he was twice their size. Like he used to, when Alice Woodward would tell them scary stories. Like he used to, when they were young.

And then, the screaming stops. And theres nothing. If steph didn’t know any better, she would’ve jumped down the hole after him. She wouldn’t have bothered with the stairs that Richie pulls her down.

***

Max is.. not good, when they manage to get light in the basement. Grace warned them not to go down here that morning. Steph agrees. Richies phone flash is the first to illuminate Max. Or, what was Max.

There's a board snapped in half sticking out of his abdomen. It's the first, and for a second only thing she can see. The board, covered in blood and guts and dust and dirt and Max can’t recover from that, can he?

A stabbing is bad. her dad taught her that, when she was younger. Max stares at her, alarmed. Nobody’s moving. Stabbing is bad, but manageable. Impalement is bad, and not manageable. Impalement is rarely survivable, depending on the object. She watches her step as she moves towards him.

He doesn’t react to her voice, or her touch. He doesn’t react to Grace, or Pete or Ruth. Even Richie gets close, nothing. Steph has to wonder if he’s already dead, from shock or blood loss or something thats wrong with him. He's breathing, his heart is beating, but he doesn’t look alive.

He blinks. Grace huffs. “Steph.”

“Max,” she murmurs. “You’re okay, Max.”

“I'm.. gonna die, Steph.”

Steph flinches, forcing his gaze away from his injury. “You’re okay,” she repeats. “We’re going to get help. Pete's going to call an ambulance.” She says it more to point Pete where he should go. The shape of the boy doesn’t move in the corner of her eye. Max’s chest slows.

“Don’t,” he murmurs. “Don’t bother. ‘sa lotta money.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't care how much money it costs, Max. We’re going to get you help.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment. Then, “‘kay. ‘m sorry.”

Keeping one hand on his cheek, Steph combs her hand through his hair. The gel in it is starting to lose its hold, and she breaks up any remaining chunks keeping his curls back. If he’s going to die, she’ll see him as Max first. “You’re gonna be okay,” she promises quietly. “We’re gonna keep you safe.”

Max closes his eyes for a moment. Had he not been wheezing, it would’ve made her panic.

Then, his eyes snap open, staring directly at Ruth across the room. She yelps quietly, moving to hide behind Richie, who hides behind Pete. Pete doesn’t move, eyes trained on Max's stomach.

“You.” Max's voice is loud and guttural, his eyes are bright. “You fucking nerds did this to me. You stupid, nerdy prudes.”

Steph blinks, pulling back in shock before she can even decide to. Max keeps speaking. “I’m going to die, and it’s your fault. Your fault, for bringing me here,” He seems to be using the last of his life to be mean. Violent. “Your fault, for trying to scare me. Your fault for killing me. It is your. Fault.”

He doesn’t say anything else. there's a small amount of blood on his lips, from his.. innards or from biting his cheek while he fell, she’s not sure. His letterman is soaked and torn, his shirt is nearly gone around the board in his chest. There's a tear running down his cheek, tinted pink. Stephs eyes can’t stay on his face very long.

She looks back down at his chest, gone still. He’s not breathing. Stephs not sure whether she should cry or scream or run. She doesn’t know what to do at all. She checks his pulse with a shaky hand, and finds nothing. She's not surprised.

Pete wraps a hand around hers, tugging her away from Max, away from Max’s body. From the body. She’s pulled far enough away that she can’t see him anymore. She stays to the side while Grace pulls bleach, an ax and tarp from a small hole in the floor.

She’s handed the ax, Grace smiles at her gently, and she’s directed to the body. There are already… pieces, spread out across the floor. The body’s head is gone, its arms are too. There's one leg left. Grace points her to it, and demonstrates how to bring the ax down hard enough to get the leg away.

She obeys. Grace's hands are on her shoulders as she brings the blade down, and finishes the job. She doesn’t know who did the head. She doesn’t want to.

She doesn’t want to know she even did this. She helps put the body in the hole, and ignores whatever Grace is saying. They’re all shaking. Grace seems to be ignoring the tears streaming down her cheeks on purpose.

They disperse quickly and quietly. Pete promises they’ll meet in the library in the morning.

Sleep doesn't come easy once she gets home. She debates calling Jason, or Stacy, but she decides that even speaking to them after what she’s just done.. she doesn’t think she could. She doesn’t call either of them. She wonders how devastated the four of them will be when they find out Max is.. gone.

She cries herself to sleep, if she sleeps at all.

[spidergvven]

hey i know that i dont talk about it a lot on here but this blog is pro masking. official govt and world organizations ending the health emergency doesn't mean covid is over. long term organ damage happens w every infection. the chances of long covid increase w each infection. we are facing an ever evolving infectious disease with no institutional protection. respirators protect you and others, please mask up!

you can request free n95 masks from project n95 here:

all we have is each other, mask up and take care of your community

[internetgrandma]

yeah it’s good seeing people talking about building community and putting focus on community care right now but to be quite honest i don’t want to hear shit about “community” from you if you won’t even wear a mask to keep from spreading a debilitating and deadly virus. we’re still averaging ~5,000 confirmed covid deaths a month in the U.S. (the real number is much higher, considering that testing is grotesquely underreported, plus the fact that dying from complications caused by covid doesn’t statistically count as dying from covid). millions of people have long covid and might be living with debilitating symptoms for years, if not for the rest of their lives. covid has destroyed so many people’s immune systems and people are getting sick more often, and getting sicker than they used to. disabled, chronically ill, and immunocompromised people deserve to be able to exist in public without having to worry about catching an illness that could further disable or kill them. kids deserve to go to school without catching a devastating vascular infection over and over and risking their long term health and quality of life. people deserve to be able to go to a doctor’s office or hospital without facing such a high risk of getting covid while they’re there. so many people truly don’t have the option to exist in public life anymore for fear of what this virus might do to them or someone they live with. y’all are talking a lot right now about how the government doesn’t care about us and won’t protect us, and i hate to tell you that that includes protection from covid. the government completely gave up on covid years ago at this point, and they’re not going to change course anytime soon. wearing a mask is genuinely one of the most important forms of community care you can personally, single-handedly contribute to right now. should we also be pushing for better air filtration and ventilation, paid sick leave, free healthcare, and better vaccines and treatments? yes! but those things will take time, and will only happen with a lot of organization. you can wear a mask and do your part to reduce transmission right now though, and that will make a difference in your community, even if it might not seem like it. the point is, respectfully, if you truly care about community and looking out for other people, doing something as simple and effective as wearing a mask is a great way to not only visibly show solidarity, but also make a real, meaningful effort to protect our collective health and wellbeing. you’re gonna have to actually make an effort to care for your community instead of just saying words on the internet, and wearing a mask would be a good start.

[sinful-lanterns]

GOING LIVE!

synopsis: (camgirl AU) collaborating with various ptn women for your streams.

featuring: eleven, deren, bianca, shawn, angell

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, dom characters, adult se.x work, camming, fing.ering, strap ons, exhibition, voyeur.ism, deren grows a di.ck, oral, toys, mast.urbation, doggy style, riding, lap se.x, pet names, praise, masked se.x, belly bulge, may be ooc.

art credits: my drunken boss

ELEVEN

With your back pressed against Eleven and her fingers working like magic on your clit, your breathless whimpers were picked up by the microphone in front of you and left hundreds of viewers waiting on bated breath. The audio quality was astounding thanks to the help of Eleven’s professional equipment, but you couldn’t really fawn over it yet because of how good Eleven’s fingers felt plunging into your hot, slimy folds… 

“Welcome back to our Saturday Night special on Call at 3 AM…” Eleven didn’t even seem fazed by the speechless silence coming from you as she was too busy making sure the stream was perfect, “Joining me today is a woman that many of you…heh…are familiar with…” She gave you a soft smile before grabbing onto the camera and making it zoom closer on your face, the viewers instantly spamming the chat with heart emojis and bounties of cash, already kicking your night off with a plethora of fans.

“…Oh my, it seems that my viewers recognize you already.” Eleven cooed, using her free hand to tilt your head back to her before kissing the shell of your ear. As you were distracted, she grabbed the head of the camera and tilted it downwards to focus more on your cunt, the audience getting a high quality view of Eleven’s fingers sinking into your wet, velvety walls. 

The squelching noises picked up from the mic were so lewd. So intimate. For a woman as innocent as Eleven seemed, she definitely knew what she was doing. “Let me hear those moans, pretty girl. I know you can be as loud as the lips down here.” She giggled and teased your entrance with another finger, the tip swirling little circles around your folds before slowly inching in. Right away your leg flinched at the third intrusion, walls spreading to accommodate all three of Eleven’s fingers while she wormed her way inside of you. Even if she couldn’t feel any pleasure herself, you could hear Eleven’s breaths falter as she felt you tighten so sweetly around her fingers. 

“Oh…baby…” Eleven nearly whimpered, her voice making you quiver as she began thrusting her hand up and smacked her palm against your clit, “Enjoying yourself on my fingers? Our fans certainly are…” 

She smiled and adjusted her hold on you so that your back was pushing harder against her breasts. Though currently overwhelmed with the sensation of Eleven’s lithe fingers curling up against that tiny spot you adore, you could feel just how turned on she was by how stiff her nipples were against your back. If you could turn around and suck them in your mouth you would, but she kept a firm grip on your hips and made you face the camera for all to see. Your craving for her breasts will have to wait…

“Uh uh…eyes on the camera, my good girl…” Eleven purred, eyes going half lidded at your adorable expressions, “Everyone wants to see you…give them a show why don’t you…? She laughed and pushed her fingers even deeper than they’ve ever been before, ripping a moan right out of your throat like a primal growl deep within. “Mmpf…right there, baby? Yeah? You like that…?” 

She giggled and continued thrusting her digits faster, finger fucking you until all the chat could hear were your desperate little whines and Eleven’s slaps against your ass. “You’re such a natural at this…look at how many patrons are paying for our show, sweetie…”

Eleven groaned huskily before licking the side of your cheek, suddenly pushing you down on the bed with your ass up and stomach pressed against the sheets. “Don’t worry, chat…for tonight’s 3 AM special, we’ll be going all the way until dawn…. So hang tight, grab some lube, and just enjoy the show…” She winked playfully at the camera before hovering above you and caging you beneath her. “Stay like this for a little while longer, okay baby? We’re gonna be here for quite a while…” 

She kissed your cheek before you felt the thick, stiff prodding of her strap push against your already sopping entrance, the rest of the night a dizzy blur, as all you could see were Eleven’s hair curtaining your head, and the spam of donations coming from the chat…

DEREN

“Ah, well would you look at that. Our first donation of the night and I haven’t even done anything…” Deren smiled lazily as she was currently laying against the bed with you on top of her, completely naked while Deren only wore her jacket and her boxers. Though she was just a director, she was also excellent at filming too, her hands steady on the camera while she gave all your viewers a mouthwatering shot of you about to ride Deren like no tomorrow. 

“No strap. Boring?” Deren chuckled as she read one particular comment from the stream. “Oh, I’ve got something way cooler than a strap.” 

Using her special sinner abilities, Deren was able to conjure up a growing cock from underneath her boxers, stretching the muscle against the cloth of her underwear, until you inevitably freed it by yanking the elastic down. Like a spring, it bounced up due to how hard it was, the blood immediately rushing to the tip and making Deren groan with pleasure. “Fuck…” she licked her lips as she made eye contact with you from behind the camera, the live chat going crazy as no one has ever seen anything like this before. “I shouldn’t have envisioned it so hard already…” 

Yet although Deren was groaning to herself, you on the other hand were smirking and staring smugly at the camera. You were excited to collaborate with Deren for this exact reason; her S-Class sinner abilities that allowed her to make anything she fantasized into a reality. 

“Are you just gonna sit there and drool at it, babe?” Deren rested her hands behind her head and looked up at you, chuckling, “Or are you gonna ride me like you promised to…?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Deren’s smug attitude but decided to play along. As you angled your body to face the camera more clearly, you grabbed onto the base of her shaft and gave it a few, steady pumps, feeling along the girth and length of it. “Like it? I tried thinking of a size that best fit you,” Deren hummed, finding pleasure in the way your fingers wrapped around her stubby base. You nodded, clearly excited to get to the main course of your stream and show everyone just how good you could please another woman. Hovering just above her cockhead, you playfully ran your thumb over the tip before nestling it between your entrance, breath hitching as you slowly sank down on her length. 

“Shit…” Deren suddenly cursed under her breath and weld her eyes shut, the feeling of your warm, hot pussy enveloping her making her head go dizzy with ecstasy. “Haven’t even started and you feel like heaven��” 

She tried to play off the amount of pleasure she was feeling but couldn’t resist releasing a small moan when you sank all the way to the base. With just a bit of spit, lube and foreplay, you were already opening up so wonderfully for her, tight walls gripping at Deren like your life depended on it, all the while the director kept a firm hold on the camera. Despite her professionalism in this line of work, her hands were trembling from how good you made her feel, causing the livestream footage to be a little shaky…

“Heh…the watchers love you,” Deren comments, trying to avert your attention away from how pathetic she was being. “Why don’t you start riding me now? The audience is getting antsy for some action.” 

She attempted to relax back against the pillows, before you suddenly bounced on her hips and made her choke on her spit. Instantly, it felt like she was going to pass out from how good she felt, your pussy swallowing her in and out every time you bounced on top of her. “Oh…b-babe…” her face went red with pleasure as the comments immediately flooded in, cooing over how cute you looked riding your director’s dick. 

‘Not so smug now, are you?’ You couldn’t help but think, smiling before letting out the moans you held in while Deren’s fat cock plugged you whole. Sure, Deren was a professional when it came to shooting films and movies, but she sure as hell was inexperienced when in the place of the actor. As more donations and comments flooded in your comment section, you could only smile and listen to every suggestion Deren had to read; cockrings, sucking her off, fleshlights…? Oh, you were certainly going to have a fun time with your dearest director….

The poor woman was going to be an amateur at something after all…

BIANCA

With a shaky camera lens and Bianca’s eyes attentively focused on you, you sat sprawled out in front of her with a dildo in your hands currently thrusting into your cunt. When Bianca said she was an expert in filming things thanks to her job as a reporter, you believed her and let her collaborate with you on set. However, now that you actually had her helping you film one of your livestreams up close, you could see that Bianca’s “professionalism” was starting to slip through the cracks the more she watched you. 

“A-Ah…you’re doing great!” Bianca’s voice cracked, sweat starting to drip down her face as she tried to keep herself from blushing. To be honest, just the sight of you naked in front of her was enough to make her nervous, legs clamping together to hide the wetness forming in her pants, all the while she tried to distract herself by reading some of the livestream comments. 

“So many donations already! W-Wow…your fans really love you!” Bianca giggled, though there was an obvious lump in her throat from how much saliva was gathering in her mouth. Poor girl was drooling so much, her blue eyes trained on that ribbed dildo and silently wishing she was the one pushing it inside of you. “Hnn…many are suggesting for you to try the other toys next…” 

Bianca couldn’t help but gulp as her eyes trailed over to the selection of toys you had prepared for yourself. Dildos of different colors, vibrators, nipple clamps, plugs, the broad selection made Bianca tremble as she imagined you in various positions with different things to make you scream. The urge to touch herself was strong, yet no matter how much she wanted to stuff her fingers down her pants and masturbate to the sight of you fucking yourself live on silicone, she was determined to keep filming.  

You, of course, noticed just how riled up Bianca was getting judging by how much she was biting her lip. If you kept up like this for an hour or two, Bianca’s lips would be all bloody and blue. “You can touch yourself, my sweet camerawoman,” you assured softly, teasingly spreading your legs wider to give both your audience and Bianca a better view. “I’m sure my fans wouldn’t mind a little bit of shaky footage.” 

A small gasp left Bianca’s lips as her knees practically buckled in excitement. Resisting the urge to just toss the camera away and tackle you to the bed to have her way, she eagerly pushed her pants down, fingers quickly finding her entrance and swirling them around while she kept watching you. “Oh…damn.” Bianca squeaked, smiling ear to ear while a blissful expression overtook her face. “I could get used to this. No wonder— mmpf, so many people pay to watch you. You’re like a movie star!” 

Despite her excited tone, you could see just how much you were affecting her, her eyes half lidded in pleasure while the shuffling in her pants indicated how fast she was fingering herself. Her lips were slightly parted as if frozen between a moan and a whimper, her cute face going all pink with how hot her body was getting. “Nnnn feels so good…but…I wanna know if you feel good too…” 

Despite not being supposed to talk much during the livestream, Bianca couldn’t keep her babbling mouth shut. She couldn’t help but whine about her needs to finger you and make you hers, to kiss those pretty lips and distract you while she grabs that dildo and shows you how much harder she could fuck you. “Wanna touch you so bad…ah…please…” chatty that she was, silently pleading for you to let her do something. “Please…please, I wanna touch you too…you look so good like this…” 

Unable to resist her pretty begs any longer, you groaned and slid the ribbed toy out of you, using a finger to beckon her closer. “Alright…” you whispered breathlessly, pussy clamping over nothing now as it now craved to have something inside it once more. “Go ahead Bianca, I’m all yours…” 

Your poor viewers could only watch as the camera shook and was scuffled away to prop itself on your desk. The angle was messy and the quality decreased a little, but no one really cared as they all watched in amusement when Bianca lunged herself at you. Ready to give the audience a show that she’d been wanting to do with you all night…

SHAWN

“Keep the camera on my good side. You’ll get more followers that way.”

Cocky that she was, yet Shawn was an interesting collaborator to work with, as her good looks and charisma instantly had your viewers swooning and spamming various donations in your comments for her to demolish you. She was definitely riding a high horse when you asked her to collaborate with you for your “special streams” but Shawn was quick to say yes. How could she ever turn down the opportunity to fuck a pretty girl like you? Especially in front of a live audience on the internet where she could display her talents in pleasing a woman. 

“Ah, many of them seem to like me…” Shawn grinned as she watched all the oncoming messages spew out like flies. She was nonchalant, relaxed almost, if not for the fact that she had you gagging on her strap and drooling so prettily for the camera. “Make her choke some more?” Shawn tsked as she read another slew of comments, a bit impressed by how dirty your fans could be, “My, your viewers are quite the sadistic bunch, aren’t they?”

Shawn gently patted your cheek and gazed down at you rather condescendingly, her hand moving up to rest on the top of your head and nudge you down. “Ease down a little lower, pretty girl. You’re lucky I’m only nice to you.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of ever being rough with you. While she knew you were able to take a bit of rough manhandling from her, she didn’t want to make her pretty girl cry (even though she knew you loved it when she made you cry during sex).

“Deeper…deeper…” Shawn exhaled shakily as she eased you down on her fake cock, eyes trained on the way you greedily slurped on her shaft like it was your last meal. The clear strings of drool that clung to the sides of your lips made Shawn shiver with rogue imagination. “Fuuuck, you’re good at this…” Shawn grumbled, grinning at the way you took it down like a champ, “Your cheeks look so cute when they’re full. We should have you suck me off more often…”

She laughed at the thought, accidentally pushing your head down further and causing you to choke on her strap. “Shit. Sorry, sorry…” she immediately softened and pulled you back so you could slide off, your drool clinging onto the warm silicone and attaching you to the tip by your tongue. Despite Shawn’s rare show of concern however, you brushed off her worries and gave her a look that indicated you wanted to do more. You weren’t here to be babied and coddled, you were here to get fucked and fucked good. 

“Oh…oh…” Shawn’s face relaxed back into its nonchalant state, and she immediately smiled at your show of enthusiasm. “You’re tougher than I thought, kitten.” 

She eased your mouth back down on her strap, grabbing onto the camera to make sure the audience got a full view of your lips wrapping around her head, the girth of it all was making your cheeks puff up as you continued to bob your head down on Shawn. The sight of you on your knees for her, gazing up at her with innocent, doe-like eyes was sending Shawn on a little power trip that made her eyes darken with lust. 

“You know…as hot as you are throating my strap, I can’t help but think it’s lubed enough already.” She snickered a little before tilting your chin up to gaze at her, mouth still occupied with her dick, “On your knees once more, but this time…ass up.” 

A flurry of comments quickly overwhelmed the live chat, reactions and donations alike clearly excited for what Shawn was about to do to you as she pushed you down into doggy position. “Make sure to get on this side. Yeah, this side is where the camera gets my best side.” She chuckled at her words before swirling the tip of her strap against your already soaked folds, her cockiness canceled out by the amount of cock she was going to put in you…

ANGELL

Dressed in an all dark mask that obscured Angell’s identity on stream, the only thing that your viewers could see through the camera lens; were the long dark locs of Angell’s hair, and the lewd facial expressions you made as your “mysterious guest” fucked you silly on her strap. Right away, your viewer count had exploded when your special guest revealed herself for your livestream of the night, leaving many of your viewers spamming heart emojis and comments all complimenting on how hot your guest looked while fucking you. 

Despite wearing a mask, everyone could tell Angell was quite the looker. Strong, chiseled abs pulsing and flexing with each thrust of her hips, her defined jawline showing off how beautiful she was underneath the mask… Not to mention how hot her voice was whenever she grunted everytime you squeezed around her. Everything about your mysterious guest was alluring, and thanks to Angell, everyone was completely mesmerized (including you). 

“S-Slower…Slower…” you whimpered, gripping onto her shoulders as she bulldozed into you at a pace only she could achieve. Her breathing was ragged and hot, her lust for you evident in the way she excitedly nipped at your neck. “Sorry… she grumbled softly, yet her pace barely slowed down, her body struggling to keep itself from thrusting even faster. “I’m…excited.”

Judging from the tips of her ears, Angell was blushing. For a woman as stoic as she was, you hadn’t expected her to be so soft and vulnerable around you, even when you couldn’t even see her face that well. It was clear that having you beneath her, legs pathetically wrapped around her waist and clinging to her like your life depended on it, really shook up Angell’s nerves as she wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

Her abs met with the bare skin of your tummy, breath faltering as she pushed her faux cock even further. She was being so intimate, grumbling to herself as her calloused hands moved down to rest upon your soft belly, feeling the smallest of bulges appear whenever she thrusted in and out. “So deep…” she murmured to herself, mesmerized by the sight of her strap going so far, palm gently applying a bit of pressure on the bulge. You whimpered at the extra pressure, your walls clinging onto Angell’s shaft and keeping her locked in place. As she tried to slip out to thrust into you again, she found herself unable to, groaning at the feeling and holding onto your hips. “T-Tight…” she mumbled quietly, gently prying your legs off of her so she could move. “Relax…easy…” 

Her words made your viewers gush about how soft she was being towards you. While Angell looked very intimidating and they expected a whole dominatrix session between you and her, Angell surprised everyone with how gentle she was, her fingers massaging your thighs so that your cunt could ease up a little, and allowing her to slide out once your walls finally relaxed. 

Finally finding a rhythm she could work with, Angell continued her movements, using her arm strength to lift up off the bed and fuck you at an angle where her tip could brush against your sweet spot. When you immediately whined from how far Angell was spearing you, she took notice and hungrily continued to pound against that spot, making your body bounce pathetically from how hard she was ravaging you. 

Various comments and donations poured in, all eager to see Angell destroy you even when she tried her best to be gentle. 

“Make her cum!”

“Fuck her like you’re breeding her!”

“Make her clean you off later when she cums.” 

As all the suggestions piled up, Angell snuck a glance at the chat and smiled a bit under her mask. Though it was hard to see, it was like a switch had gone off in her head as she began pistoning her hips even faster, her hands gentle but her pace outright brutal. It felt like you were about to cum soon given by how fast she was screwing you, your fingers grasping onto Angell’s back and clawing at it until you felt the band snap within your core. 

Angell growled when she felt your release coat all over her strap and bed, the comments all excited when you finally came thanks to Angell’s efforts. While you took a breather and laid back on the bed to smile blissfully at the chat, it seemed that Angell had other plans, as she let you take a break for a few seconds before hovering her cum-stained strap over your lips. Shocked by how bold she was, you gazed up at Angell with curious eyes.

“One of them suggested you clean me off…” Angell murmured, a little shy but clearly willing as she pushed the tip to your lips. “And…I would like that.”

You only chuckled at her statement before leaning in and grabbing her soaked strap, wrapping your lips around the head and beginning to bob your head up and down. 

[jezabelle9299]

Broken Lungs S.R x FEM!Reader

CWs- Spoilers for season 5, depictions of asthma and use of a nebulizer, mentions of gunshot wounds, and health insurance not covering necessary medication.

Quick Infodump- Oxygen saturation levels should be 95-100%, lower than 93% should seek immediate help from a healthcare professional, and lower than 85% can cause severe damage to the brain because of a lack of oxygen.

Overture: Spencer is recovering from the knee surgery he needed after being shot in the field, when he sees a familiar face in the hospital being treated for an asthma attack.

A/N- This is based on my own experience with asthma, but it's different for everyone, so the relatability may vary with this one. But I was stuck at home all day because of an air quality alert so I did this instead of getting ready for the semester that starts in two weeks.

After one of his worst days in the field, Spencer ended the day in a hospital bed unable to walk. Hotch had been stabbed, and he had been shot. Both would be ok, and they were in separate hospitals to recover. The team alternated who would come to visit, and when. It usually took until the nurses kicked them out at the end of visiting hours, for them to actually leave. 

It’d been 2 days since his surgery, and the nurses had given him permission to walk around with his brace, on crutches. He’d never used them before, so he walked around the floor to the nurses’ station to get some more jell-o, and then around the hall back to his room. He allowed his curiosity (or nosiness) to get the better of him, occasionally glancing in at the people with their doors open, giving them a small smile or wave. Until he saw a familiar face. 

You’d worked for the FBI for a few years, working on the same floor as the BAU, but you weren’t in the field. You were sitting up in a hospital bed, playing solitaire in one hand, holding what looked like an oxygen mask to your face with the other. You looked up when you felt his eyes on you, and there he was, trapped in the doorway. You’d think you were hallucinating if not for the brace on his knee, and the crutches he was propping himself up on. He didn’t move from the threshold until you gave him a small wave, jumpstarting his movement into your room. 

You’d heard about Hotch’s incident, but you weren’t in the office yesterday, and since Spencer’s injury happened later in the day, you had no idea why he was here. You pulled the mask spraying (terrible tasting) medicine into your lungs from your face. You could stop for 30 seconds to see what he was here for. 

“Hey Spencer, what–um, what brings you here?” He hesitated, because you’d know since the 5th floor of the FBI building was the most gossip-ridden place he’d seen since high school. Yet he had no idea you’d be here. It’s not even as if you never talked, whenever he was in the office he’d stop by your desk to talk to you. He figured that you hadn’t gotten tired of him yet because he was gone a lot, although in reality you’d never tire of hearing his voice.

“I got shot in the knee, I’ll be fine, the real question is why are you here?” You’re sure it’s on government record, something Garcia could find in two minutes if she looked, but you still didn’t like talking about it. You knew it was stupid to be embarrassed of it, but you couldn’t help it. Every time it got brought up, you felt like the dorky character in a movie carting around their inhaler all the time, the butt of some cosmic joke. 

You preferred to think of it as an inconvenience more than anything. It didn’t come up often because you weren’t in the field, and when you needed to use an inhaler, you measured your breathing long enough to get to an empty bathroom or supply closet. You’d just blame the jitters that came after on too much coffee, and no one would ask any questions. This time, the inhaler wasn’t working, the next step in medication, a small machine similar to what you were supposed to be hooked up to now, wasn’t working either. So you drove to the ER feeling like you’d just run 10 miles, and they were making you stay 36 hours to give you stronger medication in intervals. 

“No reason.” You didn’t know why you even bothered with that response. Neither did Spencer, tossing you an apathetic look. He knew how squeamish you got when attention was drawn to something that made you look vulnerable, which is why he let it slide every time you walked into a supply closet looking flushed and panicked, with a soundtrack accompanying every time you took a breath, only to come out 5 minutes later with no supplies. 

 “Ok, really? Why would you even try it, you’re hooked up to a nebulizer and your oxygen saturation is at 90. What happened?” He was using the tone he only ever broke out for interrogations and proving Morgan wrong, but you still wanted to minimize the attention drawn to this not so glamorous piece of your life. You wanted Spencer to see you as someone he could date, even someone he could love, so this was not ideal to the image you’d been trying to show at work. 

“I have gross broken lungs. It’s really no big deal.” He laughed, but there was minimal humor behind it. Like he couldn’t even fathom you thinking this was ‘no big deal’. 

“I would venture to say you being in the hospital because you were unable to breathe is a very big deal.” While you loved when Spencer got a little bit cocky, you decided it would be more fun to make the little vein in his forehead appear again. So you tossed a vague shrug.

“Well I’d say getting shot is a much bigger deal. So why don’t you sit down, eat your jello, and tell me what happened to you, while I finish this thing.” He couldn’t argue with that, because at the very least he wanted you to feel better and the medicine currently going to waste while you were talking was the only way to accomplish that, so he relented. 

He didn’t want to move your things to the floor, but they were occupying the only chair in the room, so he made himself comfortable at the foot of your bed. He always wanted to be closer to you anyway. Setting his crutches next to him and opening the small cup of jello he’d somehow been holding this whole time, he reiterated his answer from before. 

“I told you already, I got shot in the knee, went into surgery, and now other than having to use these crutches for a while, I’m fine. Just need to spend a little longer in recovery before I can go back home to minimize the risk of infection.” He took a bite of jell-o just as a show of finality, like there was nothing more to say. Like a gunshot wound was not a huge deal. 

The whirr of the machine started to slow down, the medicine sputtering instead of coming out in a steady steam, meaning you could finally be done. You set it on the table by the bed, right next to your abandoned game of solitaire, and as soon as you set it down Spencer’s attention was back on your wellbeing. 

“Ok your turn, what happened?” 

“I’ve had asthma since I was a kid, and I just got unlucky today. It’s always worse this time of year, and my inhaler wasn’t really doing anything for me. Our health insurance plan doesn’t cover the more expensive meds unless I’m in the hospital, so here I am, for the next 36 hours.” You made a point to turn your exasperated expression into a cheesy smile, hoping to convince him to stay for just a little while longer.  “But the bright side is that since you're here I don’t have to play solitaire anymore. That was getting old fast.” You grabbed the cards, giving them a quick shuffle.

“So what do you say Vegas, are you up for a round of poker?” You hoped that would distract him from fussing over you, and luckily it did. He was satisfied you were ok, and the last thing he wanted was to push you too far, and for you to ask him to leave. So he let the smile take over his face. 

“Always. But i'm not going to go easy on you just because of your- what did you call them- broken lungs?” That got a good laugh out of you. Admittedly wheezy, but still one of the most beautiful sounds in the world to him. 

“Gross, broken lungs. And I wouldn’t dream of it.” You dealt the cards, already knowing you’d lose. You didn’t even know how to play poker. But word around the office was that most of your coworkers wouldn’t play with him since he always won. But you didn’t mind, you mostly just wanted someone to hang out with, and you were overjoyed that person was Spencer. He won, of course. Only gloating a little bit at how badly he beat you, and while you were dealing the second round of cards, you couldn’t help but vocalize what had been in the back of your mind for a few minutes now. 

“Hey Spencer, could I ask you a favor?” He had a mix of worry and willingness to help all over his face. 

“Anything.”

“Could you–not tell anyone in the office? Just. You know how they are, they would make a fuss about the whole hospital thing and it’s just not necessary.” 

“Where do they think you’re going to be for the next day and a half?”

You looked down like a kid who just got caught in a lie. “I kind of told Hotch I had a cold.” Spencer just sighed in response. 

“I really do think you should let them fuss over you. You deserve it, and you know Penelope lives for that sort of thing.” That you couldn’t deny, no matter how much you disagreed with him saying you deserved to be cared for. 

“Please, Spencer?” 

“Alright, but they might walk past your room in the morning. Garcia said she was coming, and you know she’ll drag at least one person along with her.” 

“Noted. I’ll close the door in the morning. Thank you Spencer, seriously, it means a lot.” You put your hand over his and it felt like every thought he’d ever had was gone from his brain at your touch. He couldn’t believe his dumb luck at meeting someone like you. Just to be in your orbit, to see and know you, felt like it could only be accomplished by divine intervention. Selfishly, he wished that you’d be staying a little longer, so that you could both leave together. Even more selfishly, he wished that you would leave with him, and come to his apartment. There he could take care of you, make you feel special until he could finally convince you that you deserved it. Deserved everything. 

You moved your hand to start tapping it on your leg, and while Spencer knew the side effects of respiratory steroids, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was wrong. That maybe he did something wrong. 

“Is there something on your mind?” 

“No, it’s just the jitters. I used to get them so bad when I was a kid, my parents would have to practically hold me down. It’s like I have the energy to run a mile, but I can’t actually do it. I’ll calm down in a bit, but I’m probably going to get really rambly first.” 

“I’d love to listen to you talk, and I love being on the other side of a ramble.” It was just then that a nurse came in to ask if you were feeling better, charting your vials,  reminding you that you need to take your next dose in 4 hours, and telling you that an orderly would be in to set it up then.

Just when she was getting ready to leave she turned her attention to Spencer. “I’m sorry, but I am going to need you to go back to your room Dr. Reid. You both need to get some rest.”

He reluctantly told her that he would and just as soon as he’d come in, he disappeared again. He gave you a wave when he was gathering his crutches, but no real goodbye. You of course waved back, but you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You really liked him, and you thought maybe he really liked you too. And yet, he only gave you a wave. 

All of the adrenaline moving through you, getting you all worked up finally won out, and stupid as it may sound, tears started to prick the corners of your eyes. Just as you closed the door to your room to get some privacy while you cried, your phone started to ring, and you couldn’t help but think; What now? You answered it without looking, and on the other side of the line was the person you wanted to hear from the most. 

“So what did you want to talk about? I have all the time in the world.”

[goddessofvalyria]

OBSESSION | Aemond Targaryen x fem!oc

Summary: Alysanne Velaryon is Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin Strong's daughter, like her brothers she have brown hair and purple eyes. Aemond Targaryen, hate the princess calling her "bastard". He hate Alysanne so much that in fact, he's secretly obsessing over her. The beauty of princess Alysanne is un matched, she is smart and fierce, certainly not a regular princess.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, the fem!oc is named Alysanne Velaryon with brown hair and purple eyes (she is Rhaenyra and Ser Harwin Strong's daughter), oral (f receiving), fingering, SMUT, sexual tension, sex, sex, sex, Aemond hating bastards but then obsessing over his niece, targcest (he is the uncle, she is the niece).

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 4285

Princess Alysanne Velaryon, the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Ser Harwin Strong, is a striking figure in the court, with her brown hair—a notable trait from her Strong lineage—framing her face, and her vivid purple eyes—a mark of her Targaryen heritage—captivating everyone around her. She stands out not only for her unmatched beauty but also for her intelligence and fierce spirit, qualities that set her apart from the typical princess.

Despite her strength and grace, Alysanne faces constant scorn from Aemond Targaryen, who is relentless in his derision, labeling her a "bastard." His uncle outward hostility, however, masks a darker truth: Aemond is secretly obsessed with his niece. His fixation on her beauty and strength consumes him, leading to a twisted form of hatred fueled by unacknowledged desire. While Alysanne remains steadfast, refusing to let Aemond's venomous words affect her, his obsession only grows, creating a dangerous undercurrent in the court's already tense atmosphere.

The tension between Aemond Targaryen and Princess Alysanne Velaryon reaches a boiling point in the grand hall of the Red Keep. Aemond, with his one good eye gleaming with malice, sneers at Alysanne as they cross paths. His voice drips with venom as he spits out, "You truly think yourself a princess, don't you? But you're nothing more than a bastard, like your brothers. A stain on the Targaryen name."

Alysanne, with her chin held high, refuses to let the insult slide. Her purple eyes blaze with fury as she steps closer to Aemond. The court falls silent, all eyes on the two. "Say that again," she challenges, her voice low and dangerous.

Aemond, ever the provocateur, leans in, a smirk playing on his lips. "Bastard" he repeats, almost as if daring her.

Without a second thought, Alysanne's hand flies up, striking Aemond hard across the face. The sound of the slap echoes through the hall, leaving the onlookers in stunned silence. Aemond's head snaps to the side, his cheek stinging from the blow. He turns back to her, his only eye dark with a mix of rage and something deeper, something more twisted.

But Alysanne doesn't flinch. She stands her ground, her gaze unwavering as she meets Aemond's glare. "I will not be disrespected by the likes of you," she declares, her voice ringing with authority. “Pathetic cripple.”

Aemond’s hand twitches, as if he’s contemplating retaliation, but instead, he simply narrows his eye, his jaw clenched. The obsession within him simmers, a dark seed planted even deeper by her defiance. 

Alysanne, having made her point, turns on her heel and walks away, leaving Aemond standing there, both humiliated and captivated by the fierce princess who dared to strike a Targaryen.

 ˚ ༘✶ ⋆。˚

Late at night, the Red Keep is shrouded in an eerie silence, its halls dimly lit by flickering torches. Princess Alysanne Velaryon, having spent hours lost in the pages of ancient tomes, finally leaves the library with a stack of books cradled in her arms. The quiet is comforting, a stark contrast to the tense atmosphere of the court during the day. 

As she makes her way through the winding corridors, Alysanne can't shake the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle with unease, and her pace quickens instinctively. She glances over her shoulder, and that's when she sees him—Aemond Targaryen, trailing her silently through the shadows.

Alysanne’s heart pounds in her chest, fear creeping up her spine, but she refuses to let it control her. She grips the books tighter, her knuckles white, as she hurries toward the safety of her chambers. The echo of Aemond’s footsteps follows her, deliberate and slow, almost as if he's savoring her fear.

Finally, she reaches her chambers, her breath ragged as she pushes the heavy door open. She steps inside, the door creaking shut behind her. She fumbles with the lock, her hands trembling slightly, and with a relieved sigh, she finally turns the key, securing herself inside. 

But when she turns around, her relief turns to horror. Aemond is already there, standing just a few feet away from her. His presence is menacing, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He leans casually against the wall, a sadistic smile curling his lips as his one good eye fixes on her.

"Did you think you could escape me, bastard?" Aemond's voice is a low murmur, dripping with a twisted satisfaction. He takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. "You’re not as clever as you think."

Alysanne's fear is palpable, but she stands her ground, refusing to cower. "What do you want from me, uncle?" she demands, her voice steady despite the terror gnawing at her insides.

Aemond’s smile widens, a dangerous glint in his eye. "To remind you of your place" he whispers, his voice almost gentle, but with a darkness that sends a shiver down her spine. 

Alysanne doesn't back away, though every instinct tells her to run. "My place is not for you to decide," she retorts, her voice laced with defiance. She may be scared, but she will not be intimidated.

The tension between them is thick, the air heavy with unspoken threats and desires. Aemond's smile fades slightly as he realizes she won’t break easily. He takes one last lingering look at her before turning on his heel and leaving her chambers, the door closing softly behind him.

Alysanne is left standing alone, the fear slowly ebbing away, replaced by a resolve as strong as steel. She knows this isn’t the last time Aemond will try to frighten her, but she is determined not to let him win.

 ˚ ༘✶ ⋆。˚

Over the following days, Aemond Targaryen's obsession with his niece, Alysanne Velaryon, deepens. He watches her from the shadows, his gaze never straying far from her. Whether in the halls of the Red Keep, during meals, or even in the quiet moments she steals in the gardens, Aemond is always there, lurking just out of sight. His presence is a constant weight, pressing down on her, though he never approaches—until the fifth night.

Alysanne, seeking solace in the library once again, retreats to her usual spot among the dusty shelves. The flickering candlelight casts long, dancing shadows across the room as she immerses herself in her books, trying to lose herself in their words and escape the unsettling feeling that has haunted her for days. But tonight, she is not alone.

Aemond slips into the library silently, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound barely registers in the quiet of the room, but when Alysanne glances up, her heart skips a beat. There he is, his figure illuminated by the dim light, his expression unreadable. She rises from her seat, her instincts screaming at her to leave, but before she can move, Aemond strides forward and turns the key in the lock, trapping them both inside.

"Aemond, what are you doing?" Alysanne demands, trying to keep her voice steady. Her pulse races as she watches him approach, a dangerous intensity in his eyes.

"We need to talk, niece" Aemond replies, his voice calm, but with an undercurrent of something darker. He moves closer, and Alysanne takes a step back, her back brushing against the table behind her. "I'm tired of watching you from afar."

"I have nothing to say to you" Alysanne snaps, her fear giving way to anger. "Unlock the door, Aemond."

But Aemond shakes his head, his gaze locking onto hers. "No" he says firmly. "Not until you listen."

Alysanne's frustration flares. "You think you can intimidate me? I won't be bullied by you, Aemond. I am not yours to control."

Her defiance only seems to fuel him. His lips curl into a smirk as he steps even closer, his presence overwhelming. "You always were stubborn" he murmurs, his voice low and filled with a twisted admiration. "But I think we both know this isn't just about control."

Before Alysanne can respond, Aemond closes the distance between them in a single, swift movement. "Did they tell you that you are beautiful, bastard?" he take a lock of her brown hair in his hands. "You should have no rights, because you are not a true Targaryen or a true Velaryon" he teases her. "And you? You let my little brother put out your eye, you are not capable of defend youself, Aemond. Pathetic weak cripple"

"How do you called me; princess Strong?" he try to humiliate her. "Cripple" she repeats brave. "It's time that the cripple shows you, how to a bastard shall be treat"

His hand reaches out, gripping her chin, and before she can push him away, he crushes his lips against hers in a rough, possessive kiss.

Alysanne’s body tenses, her mind reeling as she struggles to comprehend what’s happening. The kiss is forceful, filled with a desperate intensity that borders on violence. She tries to push him away, her hands pressing against his chest, but Aemond's grip only tightens as he pulls her closer.

For a moment, Alysanne is overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, and something else she can't quite place. But then, with a surge of strength, she shoves Aemond away, breaking the kiss. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as she wipes her lips.

After the kiss, Aemond grabs her neck with his left hand and turns her over with his other left hand. Her back against his chest, her forehead resting on the shelves of the library.

"Bastards..." he whispers. "They do not deserve a place at court, they should all be killed." He grabs her by the hair. "They stain the blood of the noble houses." Aemond breathes in the perfume in her hair, Alysanne's breathing is heavy. The one-eyed prince looks down on her, she does not tremble, she is not afraid. In a moment of weakness, Alysanne turns and grabs Aemond by the jacket, slamming him against the other shelf containing the books. 

"Call me a bastard one more time and I swear to the gods that I will gouge out your other eye and make you blind, Aemond Targaryen" her voice is furious, the princess pulls the dagger from the prince's belt and points it at his chest. "You understand me or maybe I should repeat myself" Aemond looks at her, seeing her so furious and with all her attentions directed towards him... in a way, it excites him.

The little bastard he has always mocked, has eyes only for him. The same princess that the Lords talk about for her priceless beauty and courage, defined as the most beautiful of all by the Red Keep has eyes only for her uncle. "Watch your words, Alysanne" he tries to take away her weapon from her hands. 

Aemond’s rough kiss catches Alysanne off guard, and for a split second, she’s frozen, her mind struggling to process the sudden, intense assault of emotions. But as his grip tightens around her, instinct kicks in, and she tries to push him away. However, Aemond is relentless.

With a determined strength, he lifts her off her feet as if she weighs nothing, and in one swift motion, he sets her down on the table behind her. The ancient wood creaks under her weight, the books she had been reading scattering to the floor as she lands. Alysanne’s heart races, a mix of fear, fury, and confusion swirling inside her.

"Aemond, uncle!" she cries out, her voice a mixture of anger and desperation. She struggles against him, her hands pressing against his chest, but Aemond's hold on her is firm, his expression one of grim determination.

He hovers over her, his breath ragged, eyes dark with a mix of emotions that she can’t fully read—obsession, anger, and something far more dangerous. "Why do you resist me?" he hisses, his voice low and intense. "You know there's more between us than just blood."

Alysanne’s purple eyes blaze with defiance as she glares up at him. "This isn’t right, Aemond" she snaps, her voice laced with fury.

Aemond's grip on her softens slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. His face inches closer to hers, his gaze locked on her eyes, searching for something—understanding, perhaps, or maybe submission. But Alysanne refuses to give in, her will as strong as ever despite the fear gripping her heart

His lips brush against hers again, this time slower, as if testing the waters, but Alysanne turns her face away, her breathing heavy with both anger and fear. "Let me go" she demands, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain strong.

Aemond pauses, his breath hot against her skin, and for a moment, it seems as though he might relent. But then, with a frustrated growl, he pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on either side of her on the table, caging her in.

"Why do you fight me, Alysanne?" he whispers, his voice almost pleading now, but with an edge of anger that hasn’t quite disappeared. "I see the way you look at me. I know there's something there."

Alysanne meets his gaze, her purple eyes blazing with defiance. "You don't know me at all, uncle" she retorts, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "What you see is your own twisted obsession, nothing more."

Aemond’s expression hardens, the brief vulnerability in his eyes replaced by a cold resolve. He steps back, finally releasing her, but the tension between them remains thick and suffocating. "You can tell yourself that all you want," he says quietly, his tone dangerous. "But this isn't over, Alysanne. Not by a long shot."

Alysanne Velaryon, shaken but resolute, watches as Aemond steps back from her. As she catches her breath, a new thought crosses her mind. She realizes that if she is to maintain control over this dangerous game Aemond has begun, she might need to play it his way—at least for now. 

Alysanne's expression shifts, her defiance morphing into something more calculated. She knows Aemond thrives on control, on seeing her struggle, but what if she took that satisfaction away from him? What if she turned the tables?

Slowly, she lets her lips curl into a small, almost teasing smile. "You’re right, Aemond" she says softly, her voice laced with a sultry undertone that surprises even herself. "This isn’t over. But perhaps it doesn’t have to be a battle."

Aemond, who had begun to turn away, freezes. He turns back to her, his expression wary, yet intrigued. "What are you playing at, Alysanne?" he asks, his voice suspicious but laced with curiosity.

Alysanne slides off the table, her movements graceful and deliberate. She takes a step closer to him, her eyes locked onto his. "Maybe you’ve been looking at this all wrong," she murmurs, her voice a soft purr. "You think you know me, think you can break me—but what if I’ve been playing you all along?"

Aemond’s eye narrows as he studies her, trying to gauge whether she’s bluffing or if there’s truth in her words. Alysanne can see the doubt flicker in his gaze, but she presses on, leaning in slightly, just enough to unsettle him.

"You’ve been watching me for days, haven’t you?" she continues, her tone now almost mocking. "Obsessing over what you can’t have. But did you ever stop to wonder if I was letting you watch? If I wanted you to?" 

Aemond’s jaw tightens, and Alysanne knows she’s hit a nerve. The power dynamic between them shifts subtly as she sees the uncertainty in his eyes.

She moves even closer, until they’re almost touching, her breath warm against his skin. "Perhaps I’ve been playing with you, letting you think you had the upper hand," she whispers, her voice dripping with provocation. "But what if it’s you who’s been caught in my web, Aemond? What if you’re the one who’s been ensnared by me?"

Aemond’s gaze darkens, a mix of anger, desire, and confusion swirling within him. He’s torn between wanting to assert his dominance and the unsettling realization that Alysanne might be more cunning than he gave her credit for.

"You think you can play with me?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I’m some pawn in your little game?"

Alysanne shrugs lightly, her smile never wavering. "Maybe I am. Or maybe we’re both pawns in a game neither of us fully understands. But isn’t that what makes it interesting?"

She watches as Aemond’s anger simmers beneath the surface, but she can also see the effect her words are having on him. His obsession with her is undeniable, and now she’s made him question everything. It’s a dangerous gamble, but one she’s willing to take.

Aemond steps closer, his face inches from hers, and for a moment, the tension between them crackles with electricity. "You’re playing with fire, Alysanne" he warns, his voice a rough whisper. "And you might just get burned."

Alysanne tilts her head slightly, her eyes sparkling with defiance. "Perhaps. But aren’t you curious to see how it plays out?"

For a long moment, they stand there, locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to back down. Then, without warning, Aemond captures her lips in another rough, passionate kiss, but this time Alysanne doesn’t resist. Instead, she responds with equal fervor, her hands gripping his tunic as she pulls him closer.

The kiss is fierce, filled with the heat of their mutual defiance and the undercurrents of a twisted desire neither of them fully understands. Alysanne knows she’s walking a dangerous line, but she’s determined to show Aemond that she won’t be intimidated, that she can play this game just as well as he can.

When they finally break apart, both of them are breathless, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and something more primal. Alysanne’s smile is still there, though now it’s edged with a challenge.

"You see, Aemond" she says softly, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "You’re not the only one who knows how to play the game."

Aemond stares at her, his expression unreadable, but Alysanne can see the conflict in his eyes. He’s captivated by her, even if he won’t admit it. And for the first time, Alysanne feels a sliver of control in their twisted, dangerous dance.

Aemond looks at her, kisses her again ferociously, Alysanne kisses him back and the prince grabs the laces of her dress on the back, begins to undress her voraciously and she reciprocates with the same ferocity. He throws the dress to the floor, leaving her in her slip dress. In his eyes the princess is beautiful, her body is like a magnet. Alysanne looks at him pleased, brings her hands to his chest unbuttoning his jacket.

"Uncle, if you wanted to fuck me you had only to ask" she replies resolutely. "I am here, your favorite bastard" she provokes him, his jacket falls to the floor and Alysanne bites her lower lip when her uncle takes off his shirt. He has a hard, toned chest, well-defined muscles and his v-line falls markedly to the edge of his trousers. His arms are muscular, his skin smooth.

"Because I really want to get fucked by you, uncle" she teases him, her hands go down her slip dress and she is naked and exposed to him.

Sitting on the table, her body framed by her long brown hair. "Mh?" she looks at him, grabs him by the waistband of his pants, unrestrained by Aemond's masculinity, and pulls him closer. "Now I understand your obsession with me, uncle"

Alysanne slips a hand into his pants, caresses his hard, ready cock. "Do you hate bastards, or do they turn you on, uncle?" she teases him, but Aemond grabs her by the neck and makes her lie down on the table. "I'm just showing you how your kind should be treated, niece."

Alysanne leans in to kiss him and at the same time, Aemond slides two fingers between her thighs, invading her. "Uncle" she whispers, gripping the table with her hands. "Oh Gods!" she moans as she feels Aemond's fingers push inside her, deeper and deeper into her moist, wet folds. "I won't give you what you want, you'll have to suffer for it" he teases, circling her clit with his thumb and moving it slowly.

She's so hot, wet, tight. He wants to cum inside her, but she won't let him win. Aemond kneels in front of the table, spreads her legs and casually slides his tongue inside her and grabs her hips to hold you down. Alysane's body moves almost automatically, as if you're no longer in control. Aemond knew it wouldn't last long, she was so sensitive and he was sure his dear niece was fighting against reason and pleasure, feeling balanced between them. The princess moans her uncle's name, his hands threading through her hair and just when she's about to come, Aemond stands up leaving her unsatisfied and denying her orgasm.

Standing in front of her, pathetically aroused, he kisses her on the lips once more. "Your taste is divine, bastard" he taunts her, Alysanne grabs him with her legs pulling him closer. Aemond pulls down his pants, grabs his cock by the base, letting his tip rub against her folds. "You're pathetic, niece" he whispers smearing his precum on her womanhood. "You want to be fucked without any morals" he continues, she's so aroused that she's dripping from her folds, she just wants to have her uncle inside her.

"It's the first time" she whispers almost vulnerable. “I didn’t think we’d go this far, uncle” she continues, looking up at him. Aemond smiles devilishly. “You’re ready” he reassures her. “But you should see how fucking wet you are for me, for your prince” a smirk forms on his face. “Uncle,” Alysanne whispers, feeling his length rub against her clit. “Ruin ​​me” she orders, Aemond slides in, letting out a loud moan as he does so, slowly burying his cock inside her, until he can feel your cervix with his tip.

Alysanne moans, the pleasure slowly consuming her and he’s so fucking big and invasive. Aemond buried inside her can’t hold back any longer and starts to push into her, he looks down at where they join and sees his shaft stained with her blood. He feels victorious, he’s managed to silence her. Alysanne moans and squeezes her breast with her hand, Aemond lowers himself on her and while he continues to fuck her he takes her nipple between his lips. They both don't give a damn if anyone hears them, in fact Alysanne herself is excited just thinking about it. The sounds of their moans and their skin rubbing together break her into a thousand pieces. Aemond pushes inside her fiercely, he hears her panting and calling his name. He grabs her waist as if to hold her still, the few books and scrolls on the table fall to the floor and Alysanne feels close to her first orgasm.

"Uncle" she moans, Aemond feels her tighten around his cock, her legs are shaking, her body is sweaty. Alysanne looks at him, both lost in pleasure, Aemond finds himself giving her the last thrusts. They come together, Alysanne explodes around him, Aemond fills her with his seed, making it drip out of her folds.

"Niece, my little bastard" he whispers kissing her on the lips, the princess responds to the kiss and with her leg holds him still inside her. "I think I like you uncle" she says provocatively. "Or rather, the way you fuck me" Aemond still inside her, lying on her body he feels at peace.

"Uncle" she murmurs calling him.

"If I were promised to you, would you marry me?" the princess asks. "I want you to answer" she orders. Aemond's thoughts are confused: she is a bastard, she has Strong blood in her veins... and yet that body has driven him mad. "Why do you ask me, niece?" Aemond asks. "I heard my mother talking to the king about it" Alysanne replies. "I think she'll make it official tomorrow," she whispers again.

Aemond pulls away from her and she groans, feeling empty. "Start getting used to me" he warns her, taking her hands and helping her sit on the table. "It looks like you're going to be my wife, my dear niece" a smirk spreads across his face.

Aemond, in Alysanne's eyes... is truly a singular man and that's what makes him beautiful. "I'm sorry I called you a cripple," he whispers. "You'll have a reason to apologize, my niece," he moves closer to her, placing himself between her legs.

"We've fucked and you're surely pregnant" he whispers against her lips. "You'll give me a son or a daughter" he continues, starting the kiss. "And you'll fuck me and give me more," she opens her lips, deepening the kiss and matching his freaks.

"I think I want to marry you, uncle," she teases. "I think you have no choice, niece." Aemond grabs her by the neck gently.

"Truce?" Alysanne whispers in a question. "Truce" Aemond answer.

"I saw your game, uncle" she whispers. "And I think I've won," she murmurs against his lips.

"Your obsession has consumed you and now... look at you: completely obsessed by me and my body, Gods, how pathetic you are..." she smirks. "Look at us."

Around them, the table and the floor beneath were such a mess.

"I provoked you to do exactly that, uncle," she murmurs coaxingly. "You are the only one who would go this far for me" she wraps her arms around his neck.

"And now you are mine" she smiles against his lips, kissing him possessively.

Aemond kisses her back, gripping her thighs and sliding into her once more.

The princess is his.

[saigethearies]

osamu and you leave your daughter with her uncle atsumu for the weekend. chaos ensues.

___

“i woulda felt better leavin’ her with kita or aran.”

you let out a snort at your husband’s statement. “over your own brother? her blood relative?”

you and osamu were driving to a weekend getaway in the mountains. while the two of you were excited for a break and some quality time, there was no denying that there was some apprehension in the car.

it was the first time you’d be away from your baby daughter. as great as a vacation sounded, it would be a lie to say the two of you weren’t reluctant to go.

in order to ease your nerves, a suitable babysitter was chosen.

only osamu didn’t have a lot of faith in your choice.

“exactly, he’s ma brother, so ‘m the only one who understands just how much of ‘n idiot he truly is.”

“but you saw how happy he was to offer to watch her! atsumu loves being a uncle, he won’t half-ass taking care of her. besides, if he ends up needing help your mom is just a call away.”

“ma’s hostin’ her book club this saturday, she can’t just drop everythin’ if tsumu’s dumbass ends up needin’ help.”

you let out a sigh. “samu, just try and relax. i’m sure everything over on his end is fine.”

____

“COURT BABY! COURT BABY! COURT BABY!”

hinata and bokuto chanted as they watched your daughter crawl across the shiny floor of the msby practice gym.

having grown tired of the play mat and toys her uncle atsumu had laid out for her, the little one decided exploring her surroundings would be far more exciting.

“she’s crawlin’ earlier than most babies would,” atsumu chimed proudly. “must’ve got ma athlete genes.”

sakusa rolled his eyes from behind the fake blonde.

“she’s really going fast! let’s time her to see how quick she can move!” hinata suggested, fascinated by the little human on the ground.

“we’re supposed to be doing passing drills-“

“GREAT IDEA HINATA!” bokuto shouted.

“i give up,” the masked brunette said, moving to sit down on the bleachers since apparently no one was going to actually bother to follow instructions.

atsumu smirked while watching his teammates fawn over his niece. he knew it would be a good idea to just bring her to friday practice. the vibe for fridays was always a little more laid-back, and he knew having a cute little baby around would earn him brownie points with his excitable teammates. who didn’t love babies?

his brown eyes shifted over to sakusa momentarily, who was gazing at his niece with a look of disdain on his face.

okay, maybe he didn’t enjoy kids, but the rest of the team sure did!

“hey hey hey, baby miya! let’s see how quick you can crawl to your uncle tsum-tsum!”

atsumu grinned, moving to kneel on the ground so he can encourage his niece to move towards him. seeing the familiar face of her uncle- who shared a face with her father- had her happily babbling away as she pushed towards him.

“awe, she’s trying to talk!” hinata cooed, lip wobbling as he watched the precious exchange.

“alright, everyone,” a voice boomed. everyone turned to see a muscular figure with a head of spiky black hair enter the gymnasium.

“your coach asked me to come over to ensure you boys were actually practicing,” iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer stated. “i have some specific stamina exercises i want everyone to participate in. we’re gonna start by-“

movement in the lower peripheral of iwa’s vision caught his attention and the former ace found his gaze turning toward the floor.

“…why the hell is there a baby here?”

“don’t fuckin’ curse in front’a ma niece!”

“you just- nevermind,��� iwa grunted, trying to be as patient as possible considering there was a literal infant present.

slotting his clipboard into the junction of his shoulder, the athletic trainer bent down to gently pick up your daughter. balancing her on his hip as if he’d done it a million times before, he turned back to the team.

“alright, jumping jacks and high knees, i want those heart rates getting up!”

before atsumu could open his mouth, iwa shot him a pointed look.

“i’ll hold your niece, miya, now get moving.”

the squeaking of shoes against the linoleum floor began to sound off. after ensuring everyone was properly following his instructions, he turned to the baby in his hold.

everyone knew iwaizumi was tough, but few knew how much of a complete softie he could be at times. giving your daughter a small smile, he lifted his hands to wave his fingers at her, to which she smiled back and tried to mimic his movements.

he let out a light laugh. “motor skills coming along there, i see-“

“iwaaaaa-chaaannnnn,” a voice sounded off from behind him.

iwaizumi froze. that voice, that stupid nickname, he knew it from anywhere. he began to turn his head to look behind him, gradually as if he was moving in slow-motion.

there was no way…

“guess who flew all the way from argentina to surprise you with his presence,” oikawa boasted as he stepped into the room. “that’s right, me-“

the seijoh grad fell silent as his chocolate colored eyes fell on the small human in his best friend’s hold.

oikawa blinked once. twice. three times. then-

“since when did you have a kid?”

“tooru, this isn’t-“

“how could you keep this from me?”

“will you please just-“

“a whole child? when?”

“shittykawa just shut up-“

“STOP CURSIN’ IN FRONT’A HER!”

“-and listen to me for a second!”

oikawa finally stopped his tirade, moving towards iwaizumi to study the baby in his arms. he bent down to be eye level with her, the both of them staring at each other curiously.

the brunette hummed to himself, reaching a finger out to poke your daughter’s cheek. “she doesn’t look like you.”

“wow, what an observation, it’s almost like she’s not my kid.”

“then who’s is she-“

“she’s my niece,” atsumu growled out, pushing oikawa away from the baby he was prodding at. he fixed the other man with a glare, well aware of who he was and what position he also played. the fact that this potential rival thought he could casually touch his flesh and blood had the fake blonde heated. “i’m takin’ care’a her for the weekend, which means i ain’t letting no lesser setter lay’a hand on her.”

“lesser setter?”

“oh boy,” iwa said, moving away from the two ego-fueled players. he could tell they were about to scuffle and he couldn’t let a baby be anywhere near that.

placing your little girl safely to the side, iwa crouched in front of her, sounds of “never saw ya at spring nationals” and “let’s see what your stats are, huh?” airing in the background.

“you stay right here, i’m gonna go get them to knock it off.”

standing a few meters away from all the chaos, sakusa watched as iwaizumi tried to wrench the two setters apart. sighing, he shifted his gaze to your daughter sitting unattended on the ground, babbling at nothing in particular.

sakusa grimaced. he really didn’t like babies. they were so…germy. and gross. but, he supposed the babies themselves couldn’t really help that fact. it wasn’t their fault they were so little and had such new immune systems.

a shadow then loomed over your daughter, bokuto and hinata standing over her. now that iwaizumi was too distracted to lead them in workouts, the two’s attention was back on the infant.

“i know!” bokuto exclaimed. “let’s do passing drills with baby miya! we can pass her back and forth to each other!”

“she’ll feel like she’s flying! like she’s a little crow!”

“or an owl!”

“you two will be doing absolutely no such thing with this child,” sakusa interjected, scooping your daughter up and going to sit down on the bench with her.

“but ki-“

“no.”

he wasn’t a fan of babies, but considering your daughter’s uncle was currently holding oikawa in a headlock, sakusa figured he could keep an eye on her for just a few minutes. it wouldn’t be too much longer before iwa finally decided he’d had enough and smacked the shit out of both of them.

hearing a little gurgle from below him, the brunette cast his eyes downwards. your daughter’s sight was transfixed on him, a smile coming onto her face when she saw she had the spiker’s attention.

from behind his mask, sakusa felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

okay, maybe babies were a little cute.

[glossysoap]

obedience ; price & ghost ii/?

the captain’s cerulean gaze wasn’t the only set of eyes burning a hole into you. while the captain was fantasizing about bending you over his desk and thrusting his cock inside your wet cunt, the lieutenant’s honeyed eyes were staring at you and fantasizing about the exact same thing.

warnings/tags: smut, fem reader, fem anatomy and pronouns, perv simon, fantasizing, voyeur/exhibitionism elements, panty sniffing simon.

notes: dedicated to @sunnynomoar !! the next part will have more of the poly aspect but i figured i’d give you this for right now. thank you for all of your support throughout everything and all of your amazing work for rtc!!!! i love you mwah! intentionally lower case. READ PART 1 BEFORE READING THIS. ghosts pov takes place directly before the price office scene in part 1. part 3 and 4 coming soon!

word count: 3k+

Ghost, whose eyes instinctively gravitated towards you once you were assigned to the Task Force. How you followed every order to the highest quality, always eager to impress him. How your pretty eyes followed him as he spoke, paying close attention to every word he said, every syllable that fell from his lips.

Treating every word he spoke like it was gospel. And oh, how he yearned to see you on your knees. Worshipping him.

Ghost, whose eyes bored into you from the very moment you walked into any room. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his honeyed brown eyes framed by the darkness of eye black and the shadow of his mask. It would make your heart race every time.

Ghost, whose eyes would be looking at your hair tied up and out of your face, and imagining his hand buried in the (curls/braids/strands) while he rutted into you. Imagining himself gripping your hair in his calloused hand and twisting so it was wrapped around his hand, in a perfect handle. Imagining himself pulling your hair until your head was tilted back, his chest pressed flush against your back while his hips slapped against your ass with each thrust.

Ghost, who would see you craning your exposed neck as you filled out documents. Ghost, whose eyes would trail along the span of your exposed neck and immediately imagine it littered with bruises of different shapes. He would imagine himself biting and sucking into the flesh of your neck, starting with your jaw and down to your collarbone, sucking particularly hard on your pulse point. He imagines himself leaving indentations in your skin, marks serving as evidence from his teeth digging into your flesh.

Ghost, who would feel himself getting hard as he imagined biting the crook of your neck while emptying his seed inside your warm cunt. Who would imagine himself cursing into your skin, groaning out your name as he bucked into you.

Ghost, whose eyes would skim along your body and drink in every plane and curve that made up your frame. Ghost, who would see you obediently clasp your hands behind your back, and imagine himself using your hands as a handle when plowing into your tight cunt.

Ghost, who would see your shirt ride up reaching for something on a high shelf, exposing a sliver of your plush stomach. His hands aching to slide underneath your shirt and feel the soft skin of your stomach, before trailing up to cup your tits. The same tits he would fantasize about whenever you would lean down in front of him, giving him a brief view down your shirt. He would catch a glimpse of your cleavage, the tempting dip between your breasts that he just itched to lick between.

Ghost, who would see that and instantly imagine jerking off onto your bare tits. Slapping the red head of his cock onto your pert nipples. Thrusting his cock between your tits while you held them together, ensuring the hold on his cock was tight. He could just imagine you looking up at him with those cute eyes as he fucked your breasts. You sticking your tongue out to lick at the head of his cock whenever he would thrust his hips forward. Finally, he would imagine stroking his hard length a few times until he pushed himself over the edge, hips stuttering as he stroked himself through, shooting rope after rope of his cum onto your tits. Maybe some even landing on your tongue.

Ghost, whose eyes were committing every detail of your face whenever he looked at you. How your cute eyes sparkled as you gazed up at him, looking at your lieutenant as if he hung the moon. Lashes fluttering as you blinked up at him. Your lips pouting as you focused on something. Research, debriefing, or especially when he was leading a training session. You would bite your bottom lip whenever you were particularly focused — he hungered to just smash his lips against yours and bite that sensitive flesh himself.

All he could imagine when you stared up at him with those fucking eyes, biting your lip, was you on your knees. Sitting pretty and obediently, because you were always so fucking obedient, staring up at him with glossed over eyes and pupils blown wide with lust. He could practically see you kneeling between his outstretched thighs, your arms resting on his clothed thighs as your shaky hands worked at his zipper. He could imagine your pulse thrumming next to your collarbone, heart racing with need and anticipation. He could imagine you biting your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you pull his boxers down and letting his hard cock spring against his stomach.

Fuck, he could just imagine your breath hitching at the sight of his cock, just like how your breath hitches when he adjusts your form in the gym, his body pressed against yours.

When you’re working out in the gym is when his self control is tested the most. And of course, he always had the worst luck of running into you at the gym.

Which is exactly what happened today.

Ghost, whose eyes would be glued onto you for the entire workout session. Even as he lifted dumbbells, his eyes would be trained on you through the reflection on the mirror in front of him. As he was doing sit-ups, his eyes would find your form every time he sat up. As he was running on the treadmill, he would look at you. No matter what he was doing, or what you were doing, your Lieutenants’ eyes would be drinking you in.

Ghost was forced to watch you start out by stretching — seeing your muscles shift under your compression tank top as you stretched one arm across your torso, pulling it tight with your other arm. He could see the hem of your sports bra through your tank top, and he could see the thin straps sitting on your shoulders.

Ghost’s breath hitched when you bent over to pick up a weight from the rack, your ass up while you reached down for the weight. He could see the thin fabric of your panties peek out from your black leggings, and as his eyes traced the lace trim of your white lingerie, all he could think about was yanking your leggings down past your knees. Pulling you against him, so his hips were pressed against your ass, his hard cock rubbing against your cunt. He would want to rip the flimsy lace right off you, letting it fall down to your ankles. He would want to palm at your ass, squeezing the ample flesh and gripping you as he eased his cock in.

Ghost would find himself imagining you bent over the exact same way while you took his cock, skin slapping against skin as he thrusted in and out. Hips rutting into you at a furious pace, moaning at the squeeze of your tight cunt around his cock. Bottoming out with every thrust, hitting your g-spot and making you cry out.

Ghost, who would hear your grunts and breathy sounds as you lifted weights, and his mind would spiral. His mind would fill with sinful scenarios, fueled by the suggestive noises you would make. He would imagine how you’d whine as he rolled his hips, finding a new, deeper angle to thrust into your wet pussy that gripped him so well. “Oh my god,” he could just imagine you whimpering as he hits that spongey spot just right, “Ghost, right there!” He would chuckle under his mask, a rumble deep from his chest as he hears you beg for more. “Yeah? You need your Lieutenant to make you feel good?” He would imagine himself teasing you, emphasizing his rank as he set a cruel pace thrusting right against that spot. “Fuck!” He would imagine you whining, “yesyesyes. please.”

Ghost, who would see you walk over to the treadmill after finishing your lifts and his eyes would be trained on you with every step. Every sway of your hips made his cock throb harder in his joggers. He clenched his jaw, trying to stay focused on the dumbbells he was lifting as you started running on the treadmill.

“God-fucking-damn it,” He would curse under his breath as he watched your breasts bounce. With each stride you made on the treadmill, your tits would bounce. Your hips would sway.

All he wanted to do was drop the weights on the floor and march over to you. He wanted to order you to get off treadmill, no doubt making you let out a surprised noise, and bend you over the fitness bench.

He wanted to pull your leggings down until they were pooled around your knees, exposing your ass and thighs to him. He wanted to squeeze the plush flesh of your ass, feeling your soft skin against his rough, scarred and calloused hands. He wanted to give your ass a spank, watching it recoil as his palm came down on your skin, and hearing you gasp.

He wanted to feel you squirm as you were bent over, feeling vulnerable and exposed and needy for his touch. He wanted to pull his mask up to his nose, kneel in front of your exposed ass and lick stripes across the soft skin. He wanted to dig his teeth into the plump flesh of your ass, leaving bite marks in the soft skin and marking it as his. He wanted to pull your white panties to the side to reveal your cunt, all soaked and swollen for him, desperate for his attention. He wanted to trace your lips with his finger, teasing you so cruelly by not dipping his fingers in just yet. He wanted to gather your wetness on his fingers and bring it to his lips, savoring the taste of your juices as you squirmed and whined for him to touch you more. He wanted to finally ease two thick fingers inside your tight cunt, feeling it squeeze around him. He wanted to hear you moan his name as he pumped those fingers in and out, in and out. He didn’t want to hear you moan “Ghost”. Not “Lieutenant”. He wanted to hear you moan his name. Simon.

He wanted to hear those wet sounds build as he moved his fingers in and out, using his thumb to rub at the sensitive bundle of nerves in your clit. He wanted to curl his fingers in search of that special spot, that spongey spot that made your hips buck. He wanted to hear every single moan and gasp and whimper that would fall from your lips as he worked you closer to orgasm. He wanted to push you to the edge and feel you coming apart on his hand, thrusting his fingers in at a mean pace until he heard you cry out in pleasure. He wanted to feel you clenching around his fingers as you came.

He would be yanked out of his fantasy when he heard you calling his rank.

“Lieutenant?” His eyes would dart to you, his heart still hammering in his chest from all the thoughts running in his head.

You had already finished your workout, now you were standing a few feet in front of him with your water bottle in your hand. Your duffel bag with a change of clothes was slung over your shoulder. Your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat as you panted.

“What is it?” He would force out, trying to avoid your gaze as he recalled all of the images he conjured up in his brain. All of the positions he had conjured up.

“I was just saying that I’m done with my sets, the gym is yours.” You would grin politely at the Lieutenant, none the wiser to how much you were occupying his thoughts. Or how much you had caused a tent to form in his joggers.

Before he knew it, you were heading off to the showers that were attached to the gym. He heard you open a locker, presumably setting your clean clothes in it for after your shower.

The second that he heard the shower faucet turn on, it was as if his body moved on autopilot. He set the weights down on the floor, not bothering to re-rack them. His eyes were glued to the shower room entrance as his legs moved on their own accord.

He closed the distance between the gym and the shower entrance in five seconds flat, his combat boots hitting hard against the gym floor.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of your locker. Your new set of clean clothes were placed in the locker — a new sports bra, a tank top, panties and leggings. The showers were a good twenty feet away from the lockers, and the water was still running loudly — so you wouldn’t be able to hear anything he did.

He didn’t even know what he was looking for when he came into the locker room. He just felt this warm, animal need. For you.

Suddenly something caught his eye. A pile of dirty clothes sitting on the bench next to your locker. It was the sports bra, tank top and your leggings. Laying there on top of those clothes was also your white lace panties.

Bingo.

He reached down and plucked the pair of panties from the pile of your dirty clothes, still listening for your shower in case you turned it off.

As he held the fragile fabric in his hand, the same fabric that was on your body only a minute prior, touching your soft skin, he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help raising your panties to his nose and breathing in. Breathing in your musk, your sweat.

Ghost, who was now in his locked quarters, grasping tightly at those same panties. Ghost, who was laying on his bed with his joggers pulled down just enough to fit his hand down the waistband. Ghost, who wasted no time in freeing his cock from his boxers and letting it spring against his stomach.

Ghost, who moaned your name as he jerked off.

Ghost, who thought of you while he stroked his hard cock. He thought of your pouty lips and how they would look wrapped around his cock. He thought of your pretty eyes looking up at him through your lashes, tears welling up and rolling down your cheeks as you choke on his cock.

“Bloody hell, fuck.” He moaned.

Ghost, who thought of you riding him as he kept stroking his cock. He imagined you straddling him, his hands holding onto your hips and guiding your pace as you grind on his cock. He imagined your breasts bouncing with each grind onto his cock, your nipples swollen and begging to be teased. He imagined himself reaching up and cupping your bare breasts, tweaking your nipple with his thumb. He imagined you throwing your head back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, “Simon!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck..” He cursed, chest heaving as he panted.

Ghost, who almost came at the thought of you cumming on his cock. The thought of your warm cunt squeezing on his cock as you screamed his name was enough to push him right to the edge. But before he could come to his own release, he brought your panties up to his face again and sniffed the fabric.

Ghost, who smelled your scent on the panties and imagined you sitting on his face. He imagined you hovering nervously over his face, tempting him with your sweet cunt — before he finally wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down to sit on his face. He imagined your sharp cry as he dove in, tongue flattening to lick a stripe along your cunt before dipping his tongue inside. He imagined groaning into your pussy, sending vibrations through your core and making you moan even more. He imagined licking every last drop of your juices as if he was in the desert and you were an oasis — drinking you up. He would be sloppy and messy and loud. He would growl into your pussy and hold your hips impossibly close, leaving you unable to squirm or twitch as his strong arms kept you in place. He would pay attention to every little moan, whimper or gasp. Every little jerk or buck of your hips that might indicate that you were close. Then he would moan into your pussy, encouraging you to cum on his face, to squirt on his tongue.

“Go on, cum for me. I know, I know.” Would be groaned, almost mockingly so, into your cunt, as his nose rubbed against your swollen clit. Then he would wrap his lips around that bundle of nerves and suck gently, pulling cries and moans from your lips as you would cum on his tongue.

As he sniffed your panties and imagined that scenario, Ghost felt that knot in his stomach build and build — until it unraveled. And his hips stuttered and jerked and twitched, his cock spurting rope after rope of white cum onto his chest.

Ghost, who couldn’t shake any of the images of you from his mind. No matter what he did. Whenever he looked at you, he saw the pictures he conjured in his mind. You bent over taking his cock. You on your knees sucking him off. You sitting on his face. You riding him in his quarters.

You. You. You.

He felt like he saw you everywhere. Anywhere he could possibly run into you at, he would end up running into you there.

The gym. The conference room. The training facility. The mess hall. The medbay. Price’s office.

Which is why Ghost supposes he shouldn’t be surprised at seeing you in Price’s office that day. That’s not what surprised him. It was your.. condition in the Captains office that surprised him.

He was just about to knock on Price’s door when he saw that it was open just a crack. Then he heard something that made his brows furrow under his mask and made his heart skip a beat.

“That alright, love? Feel good?” He heard Price ask. Ghost pressed himself against the wall next to Price’s door, making sure he wasn’t seen through the crack. He was taken back at the prospect of Price entertaining a fling in his own office. The Lieutenant was about to walk away when he heard something else that snagged at his attention. Your voice.

“Uh-huh,” Ghost heard you pant. Ghost’s breath hitched as he thought of you writhing under Price’s skilled hands. He should leave. He knew that. This was a private moment between the two of you. And Price was the Captain for god’s sake.

“I bet.” He hears Price mutter before he hears the sound of fabric being pulled. Then he hears you gasp out, “Oh my god.”

“Shhh, sweet girl. Just let your Captain take care of you.” He hears Price whisper to you.

Ghost couldn’t help himself. He pushed himself off the wall and quietly stepped up to the door. Just enough so he could see through the small sliver of space that peeked into the office.

His eyes widened at the sight, and he found himself almost gasping.

You were bent over the side of Price’s wooden desk with the man himself pressed up against you. Your head was laid on your folded arms, facing away from the door. Your leggings had been pulled down and were pooled around your knees, along with your panties. Your thick thighs and plush ass were fully exposed.

“God, you’re a fuckin’ sight. You know that?” He hears Price praise you, praising your ass and your cunt. Even though Ghost couldn’t fully see it, he already wholeheartedly agreed with the Captain.

“T- thank you, sir.” Ghost heard you whimper, feeling his cock stir in his pants as you thanked Price. Like the polite, obedient soldier you were.

“Thought about this so damn much, doll. Thought about you so damn much.” He heard Price say, as he watched Price spread your ass apart. “This pretty pussy,” Ghost heard you gasp. “So fuckin’ wet. Dripping.” Price ground out, voice all gruff.

Ghost could just imagine the shiny, slick juices coating your cunt and dripping down your thighs. It’s all Ghost wants, all Ghost needs, to just dart inside and lick up all of the mess you were making on your thighs.

“You just need your Captain’s touch, huh? Need his fingers. His cock.” He heard Price all but growl, seeing the Captain press himself into you further.

You could only whine in response, squirming against the wooden desk.

“Lemme just..,” Price finally dips two fingers into your wet cunt, sliding in with ease because of how wet you were, “There ya go. Good girl.”

Ghost was practically drooling at the sight of Price pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy. He could hear the squelch of your juices with every thrust of Price’s fingers, mixed with the sweet moans you let out.

It was music to his fucking ears.

“Oh my god, Captain,” You moaned, all whiny and desperate. Your legs twitched as Price continued his ministrations on your cunt, his thick fingers working to stretch you out.

“I know, I know.” Price crooned in an almost sickly sweet tone, watching you squirm and twitch from the stimulation.

“Please, please.” You didn’t even know what you were begging for. More? Stop? You just needed to babble, your mind so clouded in lust and pleasure.

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet girl. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.” Price purrs, easing a third finger in. Wearing a smirk on his face as he watches your cunt stretch to accommodate the extra digit.

Ghost saw your hips jolt and buck against the wood, overwhelmed at the new intrusion. “Fuck,” He heard you mewl as Price filled you up with that third finger.

“Yeah? How’s that feel?” Ghost watched Price ask you, knowing full well you wouldn’t be able to answer.

Not very coherently, anyway.

“So, f-fuck. Good.” You mumble, eyes scrunched shut as your Captain plunges his fingers in your cunt over and over. His fingers were so thick, so rough. It felt like using a small toy because of how big his fingers were.

Ghost saw Price smile, watching his shoulders shake as the Captain laughed.

“Mmm, good. Doin’ so well for me. Always so good for me.” Price murmurs, staring down at you with his piercing blue eyes.

“Always so well behaved. Obedient. You deserve to feel good, don’t you?”

You whined at that, still just squirming on the desk.

“Yeah.. you deserve to feel so fuckin’ good. You deserve to relax.” Price ground out. “So I’m gonna make you feel good, hmm? How’s that sound?” Price asked, still not expecting an answer from you as you were too mindless and cloudy with pleasure.

All you could do was nod over and over, full of desperation and anticipation.

Ghost watched as Price quickened his speed, thrusting his fingers in your soaking cunt at a furious pace. Price leaned down, till his clothed chest was pressed against your back.

“I’m gonna make you feel good. Me. Not Kyle. Not Johnny.” Price crooned, his breath hot in your ear.

Then Price did the unthinkable. His blue eyes darted to Ghost. He looked right at Ghost, through that little sliver of open space. Ghost gasped.

“And not Simon. Just me.” Ghost watched with wide eyes, feeling frozen in place as Price smirked. The bastard smirked while staring right at him.

Then Price curled his fingers at the perfect angle, making you cry out against the desk.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Price cooed in your ear as he pumps his fingers right against that spongey spot, all while staring right at Ghost.

“Price! Fuck, I’m gonna—,” You screech as he simultaneously uses his thumb to rub your swollen clit.

“Yeah, you can do it. Come on, cum for me. Yeah, yeah, there you go.” Price laughs as you squeeze around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down your thighs.

And Price did it all while smirking. Right at Ghost.

©️ glossysoap 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission. you can use this work as a scriptfill for gonewildaudios as long as you credit me and link me.

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[blckbarbiedoll]

Is Somebody Gonna Match My Freak? (Wade Wilson x f!black!reader)

CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT (mentions of oral sex, p in v sex, swearing, Wade in general) probably ooc, cheesy nicknames, wrote this in the middle of the night 😭🙏🏾

based on this post by @megantheestallion-ismypresident

word count: 1.2k

Never in a million years did you expect to be dating a mercenary. More specifically, Deadpool himself. And never in a million years did you expect to find a boyfriend that matched your freak (and stamina).

When Wade learned what you did for a living, he didn’t turn away like past lovers. Instead, he embraced your sexual freeness. Encouraged it even.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“Really? It doesn’t bother you?”

You both laid under the covers in his bed, a thin layer of sweat on your bodies. He passed a freshly lit blunt to you after taking a puff for himself.

“Baby, I literally crack skulls for a living. I’m not in a position to judge anyone’s occupation here.”

“Guys usually run for the hills when I tell them.”

“Girls usually run for the hills when they find out what I do. Not to mention when I take the mask off. And yet, here you are.” He took the blunt from in between your fingers. “So either you really like me, or you’re just as fucked up as I am, peanut.”

“Both?”

“Both sounds about right.” You both chuckled and kissed each other softly, basking in the afterglow of your pleasure.

Although most of the time you would film alone (which you didn’t mind), Wade would join on occasion. And it seemed that whenever he did, your views skyrocketed. Usually, only his fingers or his dick would make an appearance on your channel. Not only was he a mercenary with too many people out looking for him, but he was convinced that his face wouldn’t appeal to your audience.

“Trust me, babe, this ugly mug is the last thing people wanna see when they’re rubbing one out.”

“Really? ‘Cause your face is the first thing that comes to my mind.”

“You and the readers both.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

You and Wade had returned from your weekly date night, which also happened to be one of your filming days. He was about to follow the routine of leaving you to it and going into the living room to wait for you. That was until you called him.

“Wade?”

“Yes, sugar bear?” He stuck his head in the doorway.

“Don’t you wanna join me?” You slowly slipped off the dress that hugged your curves, letting it drop to the floor. The absence of the dress revealed a matching red lace set. “I bought this for you.”

His mouth fell slightly agape at the sight of you. If this was a cartoon, he’d have big heart eyes. “Fuck.” Was all he could say in response.

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a big fuck yes!” He kicked the door shut as he walked closer to you, lifting his t-shirt off in one swift motion.

“Hold on.” You grabbed your camera and tripod, making sure to set it at the right angle. After checking the video and sound quality, you grabbed Wade’s hand and led him over to the bed.

“Camera’s a little high there. Don’t wanna accidentally catch a glimpse of my face. It’ll crack the lens.”

“Would you stop? You are so fucking hot.”

“Well, that makes one person who thinks so.”

“Babe, I’m serious. I wanna record us for real. And not just one part of you. I wanna be able to look back on a video of us. All of us.”

”It’s that important to you?”

“Yes. And if you really don’t like it, I won’t post it. It’ll be just for us.” You looked up at him with your big brown eyes, practically begging him.

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “You know I can’t say no to you, chocolate drop.”

“I know.”

“Alright, fine. But you better get my good side.”

And that’s how you found yourself in this position (literally and figuratively). Wade had already eaten you out twice with a blowjob in the middle of each of them. But now, he had you on your back, hips in the air as he ruthlessly thrusted into you.

Almost a hour into recording, you both were in a trance. His large hands held your hips up so he could fuck into you easily. Your leg was thrown over his shoulder, allowing him to hit all the right spots. You gripped onto his toned arms for support, feeling the divets in his skin under your fingers. “So good, baby.” You barely breathed out. He was fucking your brain to mush and he knew it.

“Yeah? You like this dick inside you?” He harshly grunted, not taking his eyes off of you for a second. “You like when I fuck you like this for everyone to see?”

Your nails dug into his skin as you threw your head back against the mattress. “Yes.” It was barely even a whisper, but it was all you could say given your current state.

He moved one of his hands up your leg that was rested against his shoulder. He gripped your ankle and pressed soft kisses against it. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gonna make me cum just looking at you.”

"Oh my god." You gasped, feeling your orgasm build with each thrust.

He looked between you and the camera before turning your head to look straight at the lens. "Show everyone how good you can take me."

“Wade.” You whined. “Please.”

“Please what, pretty girl? Tell me what you want.”

“Make me cum. Please?”

There goes those eyes again. The ones that could make Wade do anything and everything you wanted. How could he deny his pretty baby?

"Is that it?" He reached down to circle your aching clit with his thumb. "You wanna cum on my dick?"

"Fuck!" You gasped at the feeling. "Yes!"

He lifted your other leg onto his shoulder and bent down to kiss you. He had you folded like a fucking pretzel and you were loving every second of it.

"Holy shit, baby." He groaned. "I'm fucking close."

"Inside me."

"Yeah? You sure?"

"Please? I wanna feel you fill me up."

"Motherfucker." His grip on your hips was getting tighter, and his thrusts got sloppy. "You're close, aren't you?"

"Mhm."

"I know. I can feel you fucking squeezing me."

"Oh, god." You felt your pleasure building in your lower stomach. Wade continued his movements until you finally finished. "Fuck, Wade!"

"That't it, baby. Cum all around my dick."

His breath hitched in his throat as you felt his hot release fill you up. He waited a few moments before gently sliding out of you and falling down onto the mattress.

"Fuck." You sighed. "That was..."

"Really fucking good."

"Yeah. Really fucking good." You leaned over to grab the camera, pausing the recording. "Ready to see?"

"I guess."

He sat up as you played the video. His face went from a grimace to complete awe. Once he saw the both of you and how your bodies moved together, he was done for.

"So?"

"Can you send that to me?"

You laughed and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Of course."

"You should peg me."

"I have pegged you."

"On camera."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah."

"The viewers would love that."

"So would the readers."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't worry about it. Go get the strap."

[lotus-tower]

The Swiss Cheese Model of Covid Prevention

An edited version of the swiss cheese model tailored towards the measures that you as an individual can take to minimize your risk of infection. Public health is ultimately what its name implies, public, but that doesn't mean you're powerless.

Covid prevention is not all-or-nothing. Think of it as risk reduction, rather than a binary.

Let's go through these step by step.

VACCINES

The current vaccines are meant primarily to reduce chances of severe illness, hospitalization, and death. They will reduce your chance of infection a bit--but not nearly as much as you might think. You should still get your boosters regularly, because avoiding severe illness is of course worth doing.

If you haven't gotten the updated monovalent vaccine yet, go get it. It is not a booster. Think of it as a new vaccine. It's targeted towards the XBB lineages, which are now the most common variants. Your last boosters were likely of the bivalent type, aimed at both the original Covid strain from 2020 and Omicron. The new vaccine is monovalent, meaning it targets one family in particular.

Some studies suggest that the Novavax vaccine, which is a more traditional protein-based vaccine, is more effective and safer than mRNA vaccines, and offers better protection against future variants. Of course, the data we have so far isn't 100% conclusive (the last paper I linked is a preprint). Make of these findings what you will, just something to keep in mind. The new Novavax vaccine's availability is still limited, especially outside of the US.

MASKS

Masking is one of the most effective ways to protect yourself. While it is true that masking and reducing Covid transmission protects those around you, the idea that masks can't protect the wearer is outdated information from the early days of the pandemic when medical authorities refused to acknowledge that Covid is airborne.

The key to protecting yourself is to wear a well-fitting respirator. You want to minimize any gaps where air might leak out. If your glasses get fogged up, that's a sign that air is leaking.

Headbands will always have a tighter fit than earloop masks (and therefore provide better protection). However, you can use earloop extenders to improve the fit of earloop masks. You can find these online. Your comfort in wearing a mask is important, but there are options for compromise.

The above graphic doesn't include elastomeric respirators. While some (like the Flo Mask) are expensive, they can be much more affordable than buying disposables--look for P100 respirators at your local hardware store, but make sure it fits your face well.

For more general information, see this FAQ. For mask recommendations (NA-centric, sorry!), see my list here or Mask Nerd's YouTube channel.

For situations where you need to hydrate but don't want to take your mask off, consider the SIP valve.

Not even N95s are foolproof (N95 means it filters at least 95% of particles--with the other 5% potentially reaching you). Most people will likely not have a perfect fit. There will be situations where you'll have to take your mask off. The key is risk reduction, and that's why the Swiss cheese model is crucial.

If you can't afford high-quality masks, look for a local mask bloc or other organization that gives out free masks. Project N95 has unfortunately shut down. In Canada, there's donatemask.ca.

AVOID CROWDED INDOOR SPACES

This is rather self-explanatory. Indoor transmission is much, much, much more likely than outdoor transmission. If it's possible to move an activity outdoors instead, consider doing so.

If possible, try going to places like stores or the post office during less busy hours.

Viral particles can stay in the air for a considerable amount of time even after the person who expelled them has left. Do not take off your mask just because no one is currently present, if you know that it was previously crowded.

A CO2 monitor is a decent proxy for how many viral particles may have accumulated in the air around you. The gold standard is the Aranet4, but it's expensive, so here are some more affordable alternatives.

VENTILATION AND AIR FILTERS

Ventilation is effective for the same reason that outdoors is safer than indoors. If it's warm enough, keep windows open whenever possible. If it's cold, even cracking them open occasionally is better than nothing. Try to open windows or doors on different sides of a room to maximize airflow.

HEPA air filters can significantly reduce viral transmission indoors. Make sure to find one suitable for the room size, and replace the filters regularly. You want to look for devices with HEPA-13 filters.

You can use websites like these to calculate how long it takes for a device to change all the air in a room. Remember what I said about viral particles being able to hang around even after people have left? If an air purifier provides 2 air changes per hour, that means that after 30 minutes, any potential viral particles should be gone.

If you can't afford a commercial air filter, here's a useful DIY filter you can make with relatively simple materials. The filtration capacity is great--but due to being built with duct tape, replacing filters will be a challenge.

If you have to hold meetings or meet with people at work, having a smaller filter on the desk between you will also reduce chances of infection.

As a bonus, HEPA filters will also filter out other things like dust and allergens!

REDUCE LENGTH OF EXPOSURE IF EXPOSURE IS UNAVOIDABLE

Viral load refers to the amount of virus in a person's blood. If you've been exposed to someone with Covid, how much you've been exposed matters.

You might escape infection if the viral load you've been exposed to is very small. Or, even if you get infected, there will be less virus in you overall, leading to milder illness--and crucially, a lower chance of the virus penetrating deep into your body, creating reservoirs in your organs and wreaking long-term havoc.

A low viral load is also less contagious.

This is the same reason that wearing your mask most of the time, but having to take it off for eating, is still much better than not wearing your mask at all.

RECHARGEABLE PORTABLE AIR FILTERS

You might attract some odd looks. But if you're at high risk or just want to be as protected as possible, small portable air filters can help. Try to find models small enough to take with you on public transportation, to school, or while traveling.

These devices will be far too small to clean the air in the whole room. The goal is to have it filter air in your immediate vicinity. Be sure to angle the device so that the air is blowing in your face.

Unfortunately, rechargeable devices are much rarer and harder to find than normal air filters, and many are also expensive.

The best option at the moment, apart from DIY (which is possible, but you need to know what you're doing), seems to be the SmartAir QT3. The size and shape are a bit clunky, but it fits in a backpack. Its battery life isn't long, but it can be supplemented with a power bank.

NASAL SPRAYS

There's some research that suggests that some nasal sprays may be effective in reducing risk of infection by interfering with viruses' ability to bind to your cells.

These sprays are generally affordable, easy to find, and safe. The key ingredient is carrageenan, which is extracted from seaweed. So there are no potential risks or side effects.

Be sure to follow the instructions on the packaging carefully. Here's a video on how to properly use nasal sprays if you've never used them before.

Covixyl is another type of nasal spray that uses a different key ingredient, ethyl lauroyl arginate HCI. It also aims to disrupt viruses' ability to bind to cell walls. Unfortunately, I think it's difficult to obtain outside of the US.

CONCLUSION

None of the methods listed here are foolproof on their own. But by layering them, you can drastically reduce your chances of infection.

The most important layers, by far, are masking and air quality. But you should also stay conscientious when engaging with those layers. Don't let yourself become complacent with rules of thumb, and allow yourself to assess risk and make thought out decisions when situations arise where you might have to take off your mask or enter a high-risk indoor area, such as a hospital.

Remember that the goal is risk reduction. It's impossible to live risk-free, because we live among countless other people. But you can use knowledge and tools to keep yourself as safe as possible.

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OPTIMISING THE SLEEP + MAXIMISING YOUR BEAUTY

This post is all about how to optimise your sleep and beauty at the same time <3 I hope everyone can use at least one tip today and apply it to their sleep routine.

Have a sleep schedule

it is ideal for us to sleep at the same time, and wake up at the same time everyday. This is so our bodies are producing what we need at given times, and healing us of any injuries without interruption + strengthening our circadian rhythm(regulates our alertness and sleepiness)

Create a good sleep environment

Before you go to sleep, make your room clean and wipe off any excess dust, a cluttered room makes for a cluttered mind. Turn off all lights and close curtains. Having a good sleep environment allows our body to shut down more easily.

Avoid caffeinated drinks and high sugar drinks before bed

Caffeinated drinks should not be consumed 4-6 hours before bedtime possible, which does include soft drinks. It keeps you alert, which causes trouble for your sleep. Sugary drinks before bed reduces the quality of your sleep.

Have time to wind down befor bed

Don’t do any high focus activity, or high intensity exercise before bed. Our body and minds need time to release the stresses and excess energy from the day. Reading, mindfulness, disconnecting from social media, journaling are some things we can do.

Avoid doing high focus activities, exercising and eating in your bed

Your brain should only associate your bed with sleeping or relaxing, or else it makes it harder for you to go to sleep easily.

Minimise naps during the day

This can contribute to any sleep complications, if you really do need to nap, keep it under an hour.

Sleep on your back

Sleeping on your side or stomach can cause asymmetry in your face. Plus, allowing your face to touch your pillowcase can cause acne because of bacteria.

Use a sleeping mask

Blocks out most of your sight, minimising the distractions in your sleep. Make sure it’s a comfortable one which you wash regularly, or it can cause acne.

Sleep using a silk pillowcase

Pure silk can be very beneficial for your skin and hair but also minimises the skin pulling on our faces.

Wash your face before snoozing

The excess residue and dirt on our face transfers to our pillowcase, which we use the next day and causes acne. + an unwashed face can lead to breakouts.

Sleep with a humidifier

For my dry skin girlies, a humidifier allows for your skin to stay moisturised during your sleep, to wake up to bright, glowing skin. This is really recommended, as we are getting into winter.

Brush your teeth before bed

This can help remove any prior food particles, protect from any bacteria and regularly doing this limits the ability for plaque to build up + bad breath is minimised in the morning

Use an overnight moisturiser

For my dry skin girlies, again, using a good overnight moisturiser can help keep your skin glowing throughout the night.

wearing a bonnet

Reduces having tangled, messy hair in the morning and protects your hair from too much friction. Silk/satin ones are recommended.