#heek

[yebikey]

Elisha Cuthbert

[hottiesbooted]

Romanian Fashion Influencer, Model & Instagramer: 𝒜𝒹𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒯𝒶𝓉𝒾𝒶𝓃𝒶 (@adina.tatiana)

October, 2020.

[toishiramitsu]

i think shes a little stupid but i love her lots

[epellucid]

via

[mrphotoprof]

[regu-1]

kicking and swinging my feet

Magnai Aymeric :]

[mikeladano]

Grab A Stack of Lego and Heels with Mike and California Girl!

Grab A Stack of Lego and Heels with Mike and California Girl!

GRAB A STACK OF ROCK…with Mike and the Mad Metal Man Episode 10:  California Girl AKA MarriedAndHeels! A very special episode today for you Lego lovers, music fans, and connoisseurs of high fashion!  I was planning on taking this Friday off, but then suddenly had the opportunity to tape an episode of Grab A Stack of Rock with good friend MarriedAndHeels on the west coast — also known as…

[allthingseurope]

Kamenice Gorge, Czech Republic by Lisa Heeke

[jakexneytiri]

Hey bbgurl 💕 could I request a dad Teyam fic where reader walks in on him playing dress up with the kids, just a fluffy situation 🤭💗

btw I will not mind if u give it a spicy ending 😏 if u want to ❤️

✨😘LOVE YOU!!✨😘

-🐬

this is such a cute idea. YES. love you too hehe 💓

(i know it’s very unlikely for an olo’eyktan or tsahìk to not be wearing their garments, but jake and mo’at seem pretty understanding. and the kids are only borrowing it for a few hours!)

⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰ ⊱✿⊰

“me next, me next!” txonuk yells, tugging at the feather ensemble tsantu is sporting.

“careful, careful now.” neteyam gently says. “we have to take good care of these, grandpa was nice enough to let you borrow them for a bit.”

“but dad, i wanna have a turn at olo’eyktan!” txonuk crosses his arms, jutting his lower lip out.

“you will, txonuk. you just have to be patient and wait your turn, yes?” neteyam questions, ruffling the braids on top of his son’s head.

txonuk sits, still pouting. se’ayl approaches him with the tsahìk headpiece. “here, ‘nuk. you can be tsahìk!”

nima giggles beside her sister. “‘nuk is sa-heek!” she erupts in a fit of laughter, running to her fathers side.

txonuk scowls, holding an arm out to se’ayl. “no! i don’t wanna be tsahìk. i wanna be olo’eyktan!”

“okay, txonuk. it’s your turn now.” tsantu says, lifting the feathery ensemble off himself.

nima’s tiny fists ball up as she rubs her eyes, simultaneously yawning. “daddy? i sweepy.”

“you’re sleepy, hm? all right nima, come on.” neteyam scoops his youngest up, her head immediately resting on his shoulder as she yawns again.

you pull back the flap to your marui, slipping inside with the basket of fruits you’ve been harvesting all day.

“mama!” tsantu runs over to you, grabbing the basket so you don’t have to carry it over to where you eat.

you smile at your oldest, kissing his forehead before he walks off with the basket. “thank you, tsantu.” you glance around at your other children, and your mate. “whoa, what’s going on here?? you didn’t tell me the olo’eyktan and tsahìk were here!” you kneel before txonuk and se’ayl, signing an “i see you” to both of them.

they both erupt in a fit of giggles, making sure to sign back to you.

“we’re playing dress up, mama! grandpa said it was okay.” se’ayl explains, carefully removing the headpiece from her hair. “you try, mama! play dress up with us!” stretching on her tiptoes, se’ayl carefully places the headpiece on top of your head. she gasps, clapping excitedly. “mama, you look so pretty! daddy, look!”

neteyam is just tucking nima in, who’s out like a light. walking back over, he sees that you’re now wearing his grandmother’s headpiece.

and you look beautiful in it.

“oh, wow…” neteyam exclaims, unable to keep his eyes off you.

your mate’s gaze never failed to give you butterflies, even after twelve years of being mated with four children.

“well?” you question, smiling. “what do you think?”

before neteyam can answer, txonuk is handing him the feather ensemble. “dad, your turn! play dress up with mama!”

your mate chuckles, carefully taking the accessory from your son and sliding it over his own head.

you stand, and take a step back, admiring how good your mate looks in the garments. stepping closer, you circle around him, fingertips tracing along his skin, earning a shiver from him.

“this is a good look for you.” you whisper, fingers intertwining with his as you smile up at him.

neteyam chuckles, kneeling on one knee as he kisses both of your hands. “my beautiful tsahìk.” he glances over at tsantu and se’ayl, who are taking turns yawning now. “all right, come on. let us settle in for the night.”

the rest of your children settle beside nima for the night, yawning as they close their eyes. you and neteyam kiss each of their foreheads goodnight, before tying the flap to your marui closed.

smirking, you pull your mate close, trailing your fingers down his chest.

“do you think we could make a small stop before returning this?” you purr, tail swishing eagerly behind you.

[pansyfemme]

Everybody knows pee is stored in the balls. For some, that's a chest. For others, well... Assc heek. Sometimes testecal

pee is stored in the heart actually. love is stored in the balls. common misconception

[chloesolace]

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 - 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 [𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 2]

summary: The day of your arranged wedding has come, and a new alliance is forged. Despite what you know about your new husband, his presence alone is enough to make your heeks flush and your hands shake. But would it be so bad to give in to these things you are feeling? Aemond, for one, seems to have made his mind up about you. Though the royal succession is a strong wind to withstand, and the future is never clear.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: making out, strangers trying to take the reader’s clothes off as part of a wedding tradition, no smut; fade to black

a/n: I can’t wait to see adult Aemond in a few weeks!

Part 1

Taglist:

@amethystwonders11 @khaleesihavilliard @nura300 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aestmilky​ @rainazinha​ @cullenswife​ 

If you wish to be added to or removed from the character taglist, please comment underneath this post​.

Masterlist - Discord Server - Request Info - Taylor Swift Series

All eyes were on you as you stepped into the throne room. On the right side, you spotted your mother and siblings surrounded by guards, as your stepfather Daemon Targaryen took his spot next to you in your late father’s stead. Your siblings looked worried, but when you met your mother’s eyes, she offered you a reassuring smile. She knew you were making a huge sacrifice, and she was proud of you for that. 

Music started playing as you put one foot forward and took hold of your stepfather’s arm, your gaze glued to the stone floor beneath you. The beautiful, cream colored dress you wore squeezed your waist so that you feared you would faint then and there, since the chest piece consisted of a corset partially made out of metal. The sleeves were of the same material, resting upon your shoulders and shaped like relaxed dragon wings, hidden underneath your maiden’s cloak which bore the colors of House Targaryen and House Velaryon. 

You raised your gaze only for it to land on the iron throne behind the altar, partially hidden by ornaments and decorations. The throne was not at the center of today’s festivity, and yet, it was the reason that the civil war broke out in the first place, and the reason why you had to marry a man you barely knew. When you were little, before your mother brought you to Dragonstone, you played with Queen Alicent’s children, but the memories of it had faded long ago, leaving only blurred images and memories of feelings.

“Your mother would want me to say that you are doing the right thing,” whispered Daemon when you looked to the left, where the groom's mother and her other children stood. It pained you to see Helaena, since you had spent a lot of time together when you were younger. They all had grown so much, you would have never recognized them on the street. 

“And what do you want to say?” You asked, your voice sounding the most emotionless it had been in years. You heard people whisper as you slowly passed them, and the name ‘Strong’ rang in your ear, but you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on walking. 

“That you should run if you want to.” His voice was even quieter now, and for a moment it seemed like you actually contemplated the idea, but then you looked at Daemon and offered him a weak smile. 

“I will be okay,” you said, which ended the conversation. 

The wedding altar had been placed before the iron throne was made of dark stone, and you almost felt a hint of remorse for those who had been tasked with bringing it here. Usually, weddings took place in a sept, but since this was very likely to be the most important wedding of the century, Aegon had allowed to use the throne room for it. 

The septon who would officiate the wedding smiled at you as you took your place next to Aemond, who was wearing an own version of the wedding cloak, only his was kept solely in the colors of House Targaryen. Underneath, you saw a black vest and parts of the Targaryen sigil. You looked up at your fiance, taking in the eye patch and scar that appeared from underneath it, while the septon gestured for you both to take each other's hands.

Aemond’s skin felt warm on yours, and you only noticed that your hands shook when he gently squeezed them, making you raise your gaze to meet his eyes once more. The entire throne room was looking at you both, while the septon spoke about a holy union, but looking into Aemond’s eye, the moment felt surprisingly private and intimate. He offered you a faint smile, most likely in an effort to reassure you further, and you smiled back, which made him visibly relax.

You were so caught up in your silent communication that you tensed when Daemon placed his hands on your shoulders, ready to take off your maiden’s cloak. You nodded at your stepfather when he joined your mother and siblings, your cloak in his hands. It was an old tradition for the father to take the bride’s cloak when the time came, and even though you always got along well with Daemon, a part of you wished it was your real father standing next to your mother now. 

For the first time, the gathered could marvel at your dress and the beautiful handiwork. You even saw Aemond admire the way the material hugged your body, and the dragon wing shaped sleeves that made you look like you were the embodiment of dragon flame. 

“Princess.” You turned your head towards the septon when he addressed you, and you quickly realized it was your sign to proceed with the ceremony, so you let go of Aemond’s hands and turned your back towards him. Without his hands or eyes to anchor you, a brief wave of panic overcame you and you cursed yourself for how pathetic that sounded. You told yourself that you would be brave. It was the responsibility you carried as heir. 

You felt Aemond’s presence behind you when he stepped forward to place his cloak on your shoulders, the soft fabric warming your naked arms. His hands lingered on your shoulders, and gently brushed down your arms when he lowered them again, something that caused some of the spectators to whisper. You drew in a breath, reminded of the time you spent together on Zaelix, when he’d held your waist and you’d felt free for the first time in years.

You turned to face him again, taking your hands in his, and waited for the septon to allow you both to speak before proceeding. 

“With this kiss,” Aemond and you began in unison, “I pledge my love, and take you for my-”

“-lady and wife.”

“-lord and husband.”

Your eyes dropped to Aemond’s lips as the words left yours, and you caught yourself wondering if they were as soft as they looked. He was so close that you could smell him; an earthy note with a hint of leather. 

“With the power given to me, I declare you man and wife. From today on, you are one flesh, one heart, and one soul. Now, and forever. You may kiss.” The septon lowered his head in respect, taking a small step back to offer you two some space. 

Your lips parted as Aemond placed his hand on the back of your head, gently guiding you to meet his lips. Applause erupted from all around you, and all the tension you had felt in your body before eased when Aemond placed his other hand on your cheek and pulled away slowly. 

The tingling in your stomach made you open your eyes, realizing that you wanted to kiss him again, but it would not be appropriate and you had enough self-control to behave like the princess you were raised to be. Still, you were reminded yet again of when Aemond took you to your dragon and went against his brother, the king he swore to serve, by letting you go for a ride. 

The feast that followed was mostly uneventful, except for the numbers of men who got drunk on the finest wine House Targaryen could afford. Loud chatter swallowed any attempt at conversation that you tried to make with Aemond, especially when the food was served and the clinking of forks on plates increased the volume even more.

Your new mother-in-law gave you disapproving looks all evening, but you noticed Aegon trying to ease her repeatedly, until he must have given her the order to behave, because at some point she stopped even looking at you. It helped that she was seated on the other side of the banquet table, out of your sight. But it did not help with the loss of appetite you experienced as you pushed a piece of meat around with a fork. 

Then, Aegon stood, his goblet raised towards the ceiling and silenced the room with a single word. All eyes were on him, despite some people being barely able to stand. The part you had dreaded the entire night came, you knew it the moment Aegon’s eyes fell onto you and your new husband. “It is time for the bedding,” he declared, clearly having had his fair share of liquor himself. 

You clenched your teeth, hating how every man in the room turned to look at you with hunger in their eyes. Some women were eyeing Aemond in a similar way, but you could only drop your gaze to the half-eaten plate before you and try to ignore the burning in your cheeks. 

Next to you, your mother put her hand on yours and leaned in to say something, but loud singing interrupted her before she could even speak.

Two men you had never seen before walked around the table, as they threw their drinks on the ground as if the throne room was a simple tavern smallfolk would visit. But your disgust turned to horror when they grabbed your arms and dragged you from your seat, tearing at the fabric of your dress. The tradition was old and respected by most, but nothing could have prepared you for the feeling of being undressed by strange men. 

Your mother  told them to stop, but the men were too drunk to think straight, so they continued singing their sea shanty instead, about the daughter of a captain and the untamable waves of the sea. It made you sick. 

Just as a woman reached for Aemond, he stood from his seat and wrapped an arm around your waist gently. “Traditions are all good and well,” he said, loud enough for the gathered to hear. “But you’ve all clearly had too much to drink.” The booing almost made you roll your eyes and even move a bit closer towards Aemond, which he must have registered without looking at you, since he tightened his arm around your waist. 

“The bedding will take place!” Exclaimed Aegon before falling back into his chair laughing. 

“That is quite enough,” intervened your mother as she gestured for you and Aemond to leave, just as Queen Alicent made a snarky remark you were too exhausted to pay attention to.

You felt relieved when Aemond started guiding you out of the throne room, followed only by a handful of servants who had probably been assigned to show you to the quarters. You noticed that you were clinging to Aemond’s robes when you entered a corridor, letting the door fall shut behind you. The sudden silence was deafening as you let go of Aemond’s clothes to rub the palms of your hands together nervously. 

You could not look up at him, too big was the unease about what was going to happen. Would he force you to do things you did not want to do? Would he claim you as property, despite it being against the agreement between Queen Alicent and your mother? He could do what he wanted behind closed doors, after all.

Suddenly, the servants stopped in front of a door and lowered their heads. You looked around, trying to figure out which wing you were in, since you had been too busy thinking about the possible outcomes of the night. It was easy to get lost in thought when Aemond helped you navigate the castle, but as you both came to a halt, he removed his arm from your waist. 

“Thank you,” he said to the maids, and they bowed their heads again, before leaving you both alone. 

Aemond did not seem keen on letting the silence between you become uncomfortable, since he immediately moved to open the door and let you inside. The room was large, with a king sized bed on the right side and a red velvet carped on the stone floor. You heard the door close behind you, but you did not turn as you looked around, taking in the paintings that hung on the walls and the chandelier above your head, until your gaze landed on the bed. 

You swallowed, before finally turning to face Aemond. He looked at you softly, his black clothes seemingly blending in with his surroundings. A sudden shiver came over you, and you missed the cloak he had put around your shoulders during the ceremony. 

“I will not force you to do anything tonight, Lady (y/n),” he said genuinely, but you took your time to answer. There were no chairs in the room, so you were forced to sit on the bed to relieve your aching feet, watching as he leaned against the bed frame first, but you moved over a little to make space and gestured for him to take a seat. You’d have to sleep in the same bed tonight anyway, refusing to sit next to him would have been ridiculous.

“I appreciate it,” you replied and Aemond nodded at you as he sat down, eye wandering around the room in thought. You looked at him silently. It was the first time you two were so alone in such an intimate environment. Yes, the dragon ride had been more physical, but now you could properly look at him for the first time. At his scars, and the way they disappeared underneath his eye patch. You raised a hand to touch his face but stopped when he tensed. 

“I remember when that happened.” Your voice was quiet, your hand still lingering in the air. “I don’t remember much from when we were younger, but… I do remember that. There was blood everywhere when my brother took your eye.” 

Aemond pressed his lips together, and you saw him reaching for the eye patch, but his hand dropped before he could do it, so you decided to touch the leather, watching as Aemond closed his eye in response. “Why do you wear that?” You whispered, tracing the leather band wrapped around his head. 

“I do not wish to scare the ladies at court.” Your heart ached when his words reached your ears, and you could see on his face that it must have bothered him a lot.

You cupped his cheek, continuing to stroke the leather with your thumb. His lips parted, gaze jumping between your eyes and mouth. 

“Do you think you scare me?” You asked, but he didn’t answer. “I am not a mere lady at court. I have been born into war and bloodshed, my earliest memory is of it. I have seen bodies rot and men die. So, no. You do not scare me, Aemond. And you do not have to hide in front of me.” A pause followed, as you searched for the right words to say.

“We are wed now. And, as you said, we should make the most of it. Neither of us should feel caged or unseen.”

You pulled at the string a little to see whether he would resist, but he only closed his eye and allowed you to gently pull off the eye patch, revealing the scarring underneath. You traced the soft skin with your finger, and brushed over his lid softly, before he opened his eyes again, revealing a sapphire crystal which the scarring framed, just big enough to substitute his actual eye. 

It was glistening softly when he tilted his head to look at you better, and you let your hand drop, caressing his bottom lip with your thumb. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed, gaze flickering between his eyes. You noticed how the blue of the sapphire made his iris seem brighter in color, as well. 

“Do you really think so?” He asked, doubt in his voice but you nodded, and shifted a little closer towards him. 

“I’m sorry my brother did this to you,” you said genuinely, “but scars are proof that we survived something. I have my fair share of them, too. At first I hated them, especially the ones caused by my own folly. Then I realized that they are a constant reminder of how fragile we are, and that makes life worth living. Knowing that there will be an end one day, that it could be tomorrow, lets you cherish and live it to the fullest, and gives you courage to do the things you want to do.”

His gaze dropped to your lips again, where it lingered even as he replied, “And what do you want to do, Princess?”

You closed some more of the distance between you slowly, giving him time to retreat if he wanted to, but he placed a hand on your back and pulled you even closer towards him. The sudden movement made you gasp, as you placed your hands on either of his shoulders. Your bodies were so close now that your torsos touched each time you inhaled. 

“Do you remember when we were younger, we used to play together sometimes. Before your mother brought you to Dragonstone.” You felt his breath on your skin as he spoke, and his muscles underneath your hands tense. But all you could do in response was shake your head, since you did not remember much from your childhood, one some core memories. “You wanted to train with the swords like us boys, but Ser Criston Cole did not allow it.” That, you did remember. A smile appeared on your lips as you thought about how let one of Helaena’s bugs crawl into his armor when he hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Each night,” Aemond continued, “you’d sneak out of your quarters to secretly train.” 

“How do you know that?” You asked curiously, since you had been sure no one had noticed back then. 

“Because I did the same. Only I did not train, but used the peace of the night to spend it in solitude. Back then, you thought no one saw you. But I did. I saw you how you wielded that sword, getting better each time you picked it up. And when I look at you now, I still see that fierce warrior you trained yourself to be.”

You could only look at him, mouth agape. He clenched his teeth, and you saw that he started regretting saying anything, but you placed your hand on his. “I truly thought no one had even noticed. But… why did you not say that you not mention our past when we saw each other first in that dungeon?”

“I did not know how much you remembered.” 

You smiled, as the tingling sensation returned, and you twirled a strand of his long, white hair between your fingers, nose brushing his. “Earlier, you asked me what I wanted to do,” you whispered, before pressing your lips to his softly. “This,” you added when you pulled away. “I want to do this.”

Aemond searched your eyes for a moment, seeming surprised and uncertain. The muscles of his arms flexed, but whatever internal battle he was fighting, it seemed to be over the moment he placed his arm on your back, hooking the other under your knees. His mouth ghosted over yours, before uniting again. You remained in this position while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and melted into the kiss. It was more passionate and fierce than the previous one, a fire that the kiss which sealed your marriage had ignited and could now finally burn. 

Aemond bit down on your bottom lip softly, and you moaned just as he finally lifted you up a little, only to lay you on your back, letting you sink into the soft mattress. He climbed on top of you, his long hair tingling your cheeks, which made you giggle against your will. 

You weren’t sure about your feelings yet, and this marriage had just begun after all, but something about the way his hand felt on your skin, and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention made you believe this might not have been the worst thing to happen to you. 

In fact, you were sure that the entire castle could hear the euphoria he made you feel that night, and you did not mind even the slightest bit.

---

Eight Years Later

You were gently swaying the crib from side to side when Aemond entered the candle lit room, your six year old son, Aerydor, behind him. He giggled happily when he spotted you, and you wrapped your arms around him the moment he ran up to you. 

“How is the council?” You asked Aemond as you ruffled your son’s white hair. 

“Unbearable in your absence, my love,” he replied with an exhausted sigh, but a smile soon followed. 

He came to a halt next to you, placing his hands on your shoulders, which he slowly started to massage. You exhaled deeply when he kneaded your tense muscles, looking down at the peacefully sleeping baby in the crib. “As it is when you are looking after her,” you replied, turning to offer your husband a tired smile. 

“At least she grows up with her parents taking care of her, not maids.” Aemond dropped his hands from your shoulders and walked to the side of the crib, to pull the baby’s blanket higher a little. 

Six years ago, Aegon and his children had died, leaving you and Aemond to inherit the throne. Since then, you had both attended council meetings and reigned as equals. Though your luck couldn’t be greater, you had a feeling that your family had had something to do with Aegon’s death, but you chose not to investigate further. None of the plotting and family wars of the past concerned you anymore, since you had found your luck and happiness.

“She seems to get bigger with each day that passes,” Aemond said, smiling brightly. You hadn’t seen him this happy since your son was born, and it warmed your heart. 

“Mommy, I’m tired.” 

Aemond and you both looked down at the little prince, who was now rubbing his eyes and looking very grumpy. You laughed and lifted him up to sit him on the bed behind you. “How lucky that you are already wearing your sleeping clothes, then.” You kissed his forehead and watched as he crawled underneath the blanket, hearing the sound of Aemond extinguishing the candles one by one. 

You both changed into your nightgowns and soon joined your son in the bed, where he was already sound asleep between you two. Although he had his own room, he was scared of the dark so you and Aemond let him sleep in your bed from time to time. Though Aerydor had most likely already decided that this bed, which was four times the size of the one standing in his room, actually belonged to him. 

“When Elaena grows up,” you whispered to Aemond, whom you were facing on the bed, “I want her to train just like Aerydor does.” 

“So she wouldn’t have to sneak out at night and do it herself?” Aemond teased, but you only rolled your eyes with a smile. 

“Yes, precisely.”

“Do not worry.” He reached over Aerydor to caress your cheek with his fingers, eye flickering between yours, as his sapphire glistened faintly. “I will see to it personally that Elaena will be as skilled with a sword as she will be at court.” 

You smiled, eyes jumping between Aerydor and Aemond, as you marveled at your small family. Briefly, you wished your mother could have been here to see how well your life had turned out and that you had ascended the Iron Throne at last. Not as consort, but as Queen. It was the first time in history that Westeros had two reigning monarchs, and it was a change you were keen on keeping. 

Aemond closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he wrapped his arm around you and Aerydor, and soon you drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a princess and a dragon, who brought even the strongest of knights to their knees.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

odd duck just being able to hang out with bruce? enjoy eachothers company, maybe he shows her the wayne library

"Bruce?"

When you open the door and look up at him, he notices your pupils dilate just slightly as your lips part in surprise. And it made his heart flutter. "I heard you were in town," he explained, "So I thought I'd come say hello. See if maybe you might like to have dinner with me?"

"I-" you break off and glance hesitantly towards your suitcase, half un packed on the bed. A chaos of your coziest cardigans, a few blouses. And your favorite hoodie. Oversized and warm. Ready and waiting for you to dive into it and snuggle in with a comfort book and maybe some time playing a game. "I didn't really bring going out clothes," you tell him, smiling apologetically.

He smiled a little and reached up, gently rubbing some chalk off your heek bone with his thumb- he can see more on your sleeve and the absentmindedness of you not noticing it made your flustered little noise all the more charming. "Nothing fancy," he promised. "I thought I'd show you my library."

And he knows when you look up at him, interest and curiosity spark in your eyes, that fancy definitely wasn't the way to go with you. And he wanted more than anything to see you scampering around, following little rabbits down their holes, "Do you mind if I change?" you ask, stepping back to allow him to come inside to wait.

"You can wear whatever you like," Bruce said earnestly, watching you pick up a cardigan and a clean blouse, debating for a second on a different pair of jeans before adding them to the stack and picking up a clip to put your hair back up.

"If I go out like this Lois will never let me hear the end of it," you snort, stepping into the bathroom and locking the door.

Bruce smiled a little and pulled out his phone, ready to call Alfred and tell him there was a small change of plans. He'd coaxed you out with the promise of showing you his library. And with Dick at a sleep over, this was the best chance to maybe, possibly, convince you your feelings weren't really one sided- he just didn't know how to do it.

[elacular-kink]

Regarding "We've both got the hiccups" as a phrase I frequently obsess over, a mental image I really like is the person with the fetish being nearly paralyzed with embarrassment and practically hiding behind the person without, who's very embarrassed themself, but still having to (and willing to) do all the talking for their partner.

"*HIC-CULP!* Ah! E-ex–*hmk* excuse me! You'll re–*HEEK*–mmf! R-really have to exc---excuse both of us, *hup* we've both caught a nast–*eep* nasty ca–*uck* case of the hiccups. *hmp* B here's doing their be–*uck* best to keep quiet. *HIUK* NNhf! U-unlike myself it *hk* seems. *hmk* Excuse me."

...hm. Usually I don't like the word "nasty" as a descriptor, but it felt right there. Weird.

[saucyjothoughts]

One more lingerie Kris for all the naughty Boos out there. I like him in charge.

- ghosty👻

"Kneel for me," he purrs. You do so eagerly. He's gorgeous above you, long legs and fine hair and sharp cheekbones. The garter belt attached to his stocking perfectly shows off his waist, the straps curving over his ass, making the plump, round mounds of flesh even more delectable.

There's nothing containing his hard, large cock. No panties to speak of. His perfect balls hang free between his legs and he gives himself a few pumps just to keep himself hard for you.

You know your place, know what you're meant to do, how you should worship him. You kiss his feet first, contained in black high heels, working your way up stocking clad legs until you find your nose against his crotch, breathing in his masculine scent even as he's dressed in feminine pinks and lacy trim. A contradiction in creamy skin and strong arms.

You gaze up at the sheer bralette he wears, his nipples on show through it, the pink buds perky and hard, begging to be adored by your mouth. Instead he takes his long fingers and fists them in your hair, pulling you to his cock.

You open your mouth and the weight of his dick soon rests on your tongue as he pushes inside. Slowly, oh so slowly he fills your mouth with velvety soft skin and a rich deep smell. You take it all, down to the base, his fine pubes tickling your nose.

He moans and rocks gently on his heeks, surprisingly stable despite the hight. Maybe he should wear them on stage.

You focused on pleasuring him. You run your hands up his legs, feeling his smooth skin below the nylon, you squeeze his perfect round ass, full and gorgeous and oh so pretty when the others spank it red.

He pushes and pulls in time with your mouth, letting out small pants and moans as he fucks your face, his sheer lingerie only heightening the experience. He touches himself, one hand over his chest, then pulling his hair, then touching his ass while the other always holds you down. There's no question here who is in charge.

His cum eventually covers your face or squirts down your throat, wherever he wants to put it. He might be dressed like a perfect doll but you are his toy.

I am going insane over all the wonderful interpretations of this simple concept! I am drooling over this, thank you so much, 👻boo!

[circleswithincycles]

ONCE BEWILDERED SALVATION can i kiss you on the c heek

[itsallsternutation]

A Beautiful Blossom (1/?) (Original Work) (F/Enby)

Hello everyone, this is what I've been working on in the span before and the span after I made this blog, but didn't post anything. This is the first time I'm going public with this outside of a few other sneeple I met in other places, so please... 1. let me know what you think. I have a whole bunch more stuff like this already cooked up that I'm gonna post over the next few weeks 2. If you're on SFF, please go there at https://www.sneezefetishforum.com/topic/84545-bernis-burny-nose/ and let me know what you think there too : )

At some point in the next few days, I'm probably also going to post some picrews and character bios for my characters, so definitely be on the look out for those

Okay, I'm done now. Time to start.

-itsallsternutation

Part 1: A Beautiful Blossom

Ah, fall. 

Even before, fall had always had a soft spot in Sam’s heart, but now they could safely say it was their favorite.   All the hits were there. It was the season of their birthday, (September 29th) their favorite colors (red, orange, and yellow), and their favorite clothing (hoodies, sweaters, and cozy flannels). But now, it was also the month Sam met their favorite person in the world. They had known the sounds of fall for as long as they could remember: the crinkling of the leaves, the trees rustling in the wind, the peaceful quiet that all the other seasons just didn’t seem to have. However, now that Sam had met the love of their life, these had been joined by a few new sounds:

"eh…Eh…EH…EEESHIEW!"

Even before they knew it had come from her, Sam knew that sound. They knew it from the first day of their Freshman Latin class in college. The class wasn’t one of their cores (they were a skilled writer) and they knew it wasn’t one of hers either (she was a programming prodigy), but nonetheless, the stars and arbitrary graduation requirements aligned to put them together in that moment. They both had arrived early, albeit for completely different reasons. That was where Sam had first heard those beautiful sounds. Sounds like: 

*sniff* *sniff* “heh…"

And…

“hh-hh...hih-HEH…”

And the famous one of course…

“Heek-SHIEW!”

They hadn’t thought much about it, until they turned to their left and realized they inadvertently found themself next to the source. It was a girl. A pale one in a pink hoodie, with round glasses, and with dark hair tucked into a cute little beanie. The glasses were tucked onto a nose that was just as pink as the hoodie and just as little and cute as the beanie.  It was clear to Sam that she was having a bad time. There was a long string of watery snot dripping down her nose and she seemed deeply distressed about it. However, at the moment, she appeared to be too busy frantically searching her bag to be able to attend to it.

Startled with sudden realization, Sam reached into their pocket. Sam had never had any allergies, but everything else that seemed to make people sneezy or snotty seemed to affect them enough. Because of that, they had accumulated a collection of handkerchiefs and always made sure to keep one with them. The one they pulled out was big, plain, white. Sam wordlessly offered it to the girl along with a comforting smile. She visibly hesitated at first, but as she did, her look changed: her eyes narrowed, her head turned upward, her breath became a kind of congested, shuddering stuttering: “hh..huhg..gh..hgk…” As if by desperate instinct, she grabbed the hanky and held it to her face, but it appeared her nose was not yet ready to resume its newest verse: “hgk..geh…”

Until of course it was: “heh-EhSHEW! HISHOO! Ah-ASHOO! heh-Heh-HEH! EESHOOO!” Her nose then followed with a gurgling blow as a chorus, which in turn was followed by a semistifled “Hap-tshh”, and a soggy reprise.  When she had finally recovered enough to bring the hanky down from her nose, she looked towards Sam and began stuttering out an apology: “Oh shit! I-I-I’m…sorry. I didn…I didn’t mean to-”.

“Bless you. Don’t worry. Last time I checked, that’s what those were supposed to be used for.”

“I promise I’m not sick. I’ve just got…huh…HuhEshh! Ikshh! Sorry.” she tried to explain before being interrupted by two snotty sneezes in quick succession. 

“Allergies?”

“Yeah…” she responded with a nervous chuckle “Sorry…”.

She then tried to offer the hanky back, but Sam declined. “You look like you might need it more than me.

In response, she opened her bag, and began searching it again. This time she was quick to find the object of her search: a smaller handkerchief of her own with an absolutely adorable blue line pattern on it. “You can have mine if you need it. I haven’t used it yet,” she said with a snuffle. 

“Thanks,” Sam replied with a smile, “I’m not used to seeing that many other people use handkerchiefs.” 

“Me neither. My family is from Japan and apparently everyone there has one, but I grew up around here and I’ve never known anyone else who uses them.”

“You’re a local?”

“I’m in-state, but from here specifically. I was born and grew up about an hour from here. My parents are both doctors in the college clinic system,” she explained. “I’m Berni, by the way. Um…you should probably pick a different seat before class starts. I don’t want all my sneezing and sniffling to interrupt you. I’m just taking this class because I need the foreign language credit.”

“Nice to meet you Berni, I’m Sam. And don’t worry I think everyone is here for the language credit. Besides, ani mdbr abrit.”

“Huh?” 

“I already have a foreign language.” Sam explained.

“Oh, me too. Kafunshō ga kirai desu.” Berni replied.

“I know that was probably Japanese, but what did you say?”

“I hate hay fever.” she said with a groan as she began wiping her nose with Sam’s handkerchief.

“I had a feeling, but what did you say?”

“That is what I-”

But before she could finish, the professor began to speak. Despite Berni’s insistence, it was too late for Sam to move. Dr. Senex had already begun his first of many completely uneventful lectures.

Both Sam’s parents were alumni of the college and had many stories. Sam’s father in particular had more than a few stories about Dr. Senex in particular. According to him, Senex was a relic even thirty years ago. Since then, the professor had lost most of his vitality, hearing, and sight, but still kept his droning voice. Apparently during his “prime”, an English teacher who was 30 Dr. Senex’s senior described him as “the very same puny, inexhaustible voice our dear friend William spoke about when he received the nobel prize in literature.” The reason why his classes were so popular after all this time was that they were the perfect places for people like Sam and Berni who didn’t wish to invest too much of their time into language classes. 

Sam almost dozed off several times, but each time he was roused by another soft snuffle, another wet sneeze, another gentle “sorry”, or another gentle nose blow. Finally, just as he was about to drift off again, he was roused by a different sound, a whisper:  “If you already know a foreign language, why are you here taking Latin?” Berni asked.

“I don’t really wanna talk about that,” Sam whispered back. “If you already know Japanese, why are you here taking Latin?”

“I don’t really wanna talk about that eih…eh…Eih-EEIKTSHOO!” she began to respond before being interrupted by an extra loud, extra forceful, and extra messy sneeze. “Fuck…” she muttered almost fearfully.

A few of the nearby students turned to stare. However, it was mostly out of boredom or curiosity and not out of disgust. No one seemed like they particularly cared that much about the professor, who himself gave no indication that he had even heard the sneeze. One girl however, a tall redhead sitting nearby, responded to Berni’s sneeze with a hateful glare. When Berni realized this, her face turned red with shame and Sam watched as she quickly rushed out of the lecture hall, letting out fits of desperate sneezes as she did so. After she left, Sam realized that she had left most of her stuff, including her bag, a laptop, and, most worryingly, the handkerchief they had given her. With no real plan in mind, Sam carefully picked up the hanky and followed her outside.

Berni was not particularly hard to find outside the lecture hall, but Sam probably could’ve found her from the sound of her sniffling alone. She was sitting alone on a bench, wiping her itchy, teary eyes and her itchy, runny nose with the sleeves of her hoodie. She seemed too preoccupied to notice Sam, so they wordlessly sat down next to her and offered the same white handkerchief (albeit now a little soiled) and the same comforting smile (albeit now a little sad) as before. 

When Berni looked up to notice them, she let out a sound that sounded like an intersection between a groan, a moan, a sigh, and a sob before taking the handkerchief, pressing it to her nose, and blowing hard. The blow she gave was far more forceful than those she had done before. It began of course as a wet, congested gurgle, before transforming into a loud honk. With its great force, the blow was over in a few seconds. When it ended, Berni lowered the handkerchief to reveal a pair of itchy, teary eyes and a nose that was rubbed raw with irritation. 

There was a long silence between the two before it was broken. However, unexpectedly, it was the far quieter one who broke it first: “I’m so..thank you…thank you so much.” 

“Bless you.” Sam said with concern in their voice.

“I’m so gross.” she said with a sniff. 

“Rough day?”

“Yeah,” Berni answered as she wiped her teary eyes.

There was a pause before Sam checked their watch and realized what they needed to do next: “How about this? I think there’s only a few minutes left of the lecture, so how about we go in, finish it up, and when it’s done, I’ll take you to lunch somewhere quiet.

“I c..I cuh…Hhh-eISHuh!” she began before being interrupted by a sneeze she muffled into Sam’s damp hanky, “I can’t…”

“Why not?” Sam asked with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

“You’ll…heh..yeugh…you’ll hate me for…hehh-HeehHH-Heeiighh-SHhEIW!” she exclaimed, “You’ll hate me for sneezing and snorting so much.”

“I don’t really mind,” Sam said reassuringly, “And I don’t think anyone there is gonna mind either. No one really cares about that class anyway and everyone knows all the pollen around here is killer.”

“Lottie minds. She hates me already,” Berni sobbed. 

“Lottie?”

“My roommate. She gets mad at me. Says I’m gross and that my hay fever messes up her beauty sleep.”

“I think…I think I might have met her,” Sam said, perplexed.

“You did?” Berni asked with a sniff.

“I think she was in my history of journalism class. About yea high, red curly hair and freckles?”

“Yep,” Berni confirmed.

“But she…she just seemed so nice. How could she say something like that to you?”

“Because she’s right. I’m disgusting,” Berni lamented before blowing her nose wetly into Sam’s hanky.

“Right? Of course not. You have allergies. If you didn’t sneeze or blow your nose every once in a while, you’d probably drown!”

This humorous remark did a lot to cheer Berni up, and she let out a cute giggle that sounded much happier than before. “You don’t mind that I’m such a sneezy, sniffly, snotty...heh-HESHIEW!...very sneezy mess?” Berni asked with a cute snort as she wiped her dripping nose. 

“Of course not,” Sam reassured. “Don’t I’ve had plenty of friends with allergies, so I know what I’m getting into. Heck, I’ve been known to be a bit sneezy myself. Why do you think I had that handkerchief with me?”

“Do you have hay fever too?” Berni asked sympathetically.

“No. I’ve got rhinitis, but it's more of the nonallergic kind.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means that a bunch of things that aren’t allergy related makes me sneeze. Smoke, dust, strong smells, spicy food. Pretty much anything under the sun ironically including the...ah..choo! Ashiew! Hep-Chiew! Including the sun!” they said with a laugh “speak of the devil.”

“Aww,” Berni cooed as she grabbed the handkerchief she had given Sam and used it to wipe the snot on their nose, “that’s gotta suck. I have to say though, I think your sneezes are a lot cuter than mine.”

“Eh, I could take it or leave it. It doesn’t really bother me that much.” Sam explained with a chuckle. “I have to say though, I actually think I like your sneezing better.”

“What?” Berni asked surprised, “Why?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later. Tell you what, if you come back and help keep me awake through that snore fest of a lecture, then I’ll tell you over some lunch. My treat.”

“Okay,” Berni said with a smile, “It’s nice meeting you Sammy. Thank you for…thank you for helping me.”

“No problem Bern” Sam said with a laugh.

As Sam and Berni quietly snuck back into the lecture hall, neither knew this beautiful –and very sneezy– fall day would blossom into a wonderful, blooming bond. Berni would give Sam a new reason to love their favorite season, but little did Berni know, Sam would give her something even better.