#THIS IS BALM TO MY WOUNDED HEART

[gammaraydeath]

man so you know i grew up with halo and all so i am not super familiar with the mcc (i still have all the original game discs from my childhood) but i still have gone through most of the games in mcc at least once. anyway. why is this my first time seeing this thing

[sammysamstuff]

This is beautiful 😍

[thekinslayed]

The Heavenly Ivory Touch of Your Hand

summary | The news of your husband's infidelity had driven you into Aegon's arms, your growing companionship tethering on the edge of decency.

pairing | aegon ii targaryen x aemond's wife!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, infidelity, slight angst, injury, post rook’s rest aegon

wordcount | 3.3k

song rec | Heavenly - Grant Lee Phillips (title is a lyric from the song)

note | been in an aegon mode after ep1 of the new season 🫦 idk why i had to include aemond somehow, that man has my brain in a chokehold unfortunately

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @zaldritzosrose)

What soft hands you had. Your touch was gentle, caring…  loving. They were a welcome sensation on Aegon’s skin, a sweet reprieve from the aches that only ever grew by the day. He could feel himself sink deeper into the feathered mattress, your touch massaging the knots he bore from the agitated tension his shoulders carried. It was not right to have you like this, but the lines between propriety have long been blurred by chaos.

“It is not your place as my brother’s wife to tend to my wounds,” Aegon mumbled, though he wasn’t one to complain, not when the salve on your fingertips brought salvation to his marred flesh. You hummed, continuing to apply the healing balm diligently.

“Yes, but you had driven away half your staff, the other half you won’t let even a hair’s breadth within your space. Who else is there to do it for you, brother?”

Your words rang true. The pain brought about by the memory of Rook’s Rest left Aegon irritable, brash, growing quick to anger at anyone and anything that displeased him. His staff were frightened to treat their king when he was so, grabbing the first opportunity to leave him be when he demanded. The treachery he had faced at the hands of his own people left him wary of any and all that walked through his home, the pain of losing his heir haunting his every thought. He couldn’t afford another travesty when he had lost so much. His wife had grown hysterical from grief, driven even farther away from his grasp than she already was. His mother was never really here, her heart still chained in his half-sister’s grasp, seeking a false sense of power by riding Cole whenever she could before he marched off. Perhaps Aegon was like her in a way, desperate to make a window in their own prison.

You were just as lonely as he, where he was alone in the numbing pain of his wounds, you were in a different prison— the isolating humiliation of the failure they all called a marriage. The news of Aemond’s infidelity left you broken and riddled with heartache. Where you waited and waited for the beastly sight of Vhagar flying over King’s Landing to signal his return, your husband had taken another to bed. The memory of reading the letter dropped by a raven from Harrenhal was a gray fog, the utter appalment that had overtaken your proper thinking caused you to block its actuality from your mind. The letter had come unsigned, maybe it was a servant who sent it, or Cole, perhaps it was the bastard witch herself, though it mattered little. The truth of the matter could not be denied when Aemond had been gone for nearly three moons now, and the whispers and looks of pity thrown your way could no longer be ignored.

Aegon wasn’t quite sure how you ended up in his midst when it happened. He figured you would lock yourself in your chambers in isolation, just like Helaena did, or wept at the Seven’s feet for guidance, just like his mother did. Instead, you had come to him, with the intention of tending his wounds at first, then came a natural companionship with each other. You had gotten along well, much better than even before the war.

When his joints felt better on brighter days, you would help him out of bed to walk; his cane in one hand, the other holding onto you for dear life. Not anywhere far, just in the halls of the royal apartments, away from curious eyes. You had even helped him bathe a few times, rubbing him clean without so much a look of disgust at the sight of his burnt half. Aemond would have definitely strangled the elder to death if he were ever to know, but the twat was hardly the face of honor and decency at the moment, and the king could care less what he thought. If Aegon was still the man he once was, he would have taken advantage of such mercy for something carnal, but his wounded spirit had never known such kindness. You tended to him in a way so foreign, so selfless, expecting naught in return.

Tonight, something was different. You hadn’t greeted him with that sweet smile of yours, one that Aegon always looked forward to every time you stepped into his chambers. You took your place on the edge of his bed quietly, grabbing the jar of salve and unscrewing its top without so much a word. The king was in a better condition tonight, no poppy milk to mar his mind blurred. There was a crease between your brows, and Aegon had to stop himself from brushing the tension away with his thumb. You were displeased.

“You are troubled,” he spoke up. Your eyes flickered to him under your lashes, before returning to your work on applying the balm on his side. Aegon hissed when you pressed on the wound a bit too harshly, which made you stop and utter an apology. “Sister,” he tried again, grabbing your wrist to stop you. You weren’t looking at him, your gaze trained to his grip on your flesh. He squeezed your wrist underneath his larger palm before asking, “What is it?”

Your eyes stung almost immediately, causing you to look away. You grabbed a cloth from Aegon’s bedside to wipe your hand clean, tugging on your flesh in a matter so harsh that it made your king look at you in concern. You took deep breaths, trying your hardest to swallow the piercing lump in your throat.

“She is with child,” you finally said, eyelashes flattering when your tears threatened to fall. The king scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head in disappointment. You didn’t have to utter who; your good brother-by-law already knew. Aemond used to be beyond such depravity, or so Aegon thought. His heart ached at the pitiful sight of you, with the way you avoided his eyes, scratching the inside of your wrist in an anxious habit. Your nails dug painfully into your flesh, rendering the skin a dark red to distract you from the agonizing swell of your heart. For the second time, Aegon grabbed your wrist to keep you from harming yourself, taking your smaller palm into his.

“I am sorry, sister,” he whispered in sincerity. “A fool he is. He may have lost one eye, but he is equally blind in both to see what he has lost. You are not deserving of such a man.”

You nodded at his words aimlessly, sniffling. Your eyes looked at anywhere but him, furiously blinking away your tears. In the days you had spent together, Aegon had learned you were one to detach yourself from your troubles, adamant to live in ignorance to save yourself the suffering. He used to be the same, but he had learned in the harshest way possible that pain would still find its way to you.

“He told me he loved me,” you chuckled darkly, through the corners of your lips quivered. You bit your lip, tilting your head back in a feeble attempt to push your tears back, before sighing. “He used to say I was the light of his life, that he could never wish to part from me, and he would return. Such flowery words from a liar.”

“My brother could have been a poet if he wasn’t a warrior, though he would be just as cruel with a pen as with a sword.”

You looked to your king with a pained smile, one which he returned, but a sob soon broke out from deep within your chest. Your beautiful face crumpled into sadness, your traitorous tears finally escaping. They left their mark on your cheeks, causing Aegon to wipe them in haste. His heart broke to see you like this, to see you suffering from a pain you did not deserve. You were the kindest being that had ever graced his days. Aegon may not be a devout man, but he liked to believe you were molded by the Mother’s hands, formed from her own essence. You were good, you were pure, everything the Targaryens were not. You never should have fallen into Aemond’s darkness, into their fiery madness.

“Come,” he bided, urging you to lay on the vast space beside him. You settled on the space by his good side, letting him take you into his bare chest. Avoiding his wounded side, you buried your head into the crook of his neck. Hot, salty tears left his skin damp, but Aegon couldn't care less, nor for the implications of the fact that anyone could come in and witness the king holding his brother’s wife in his arms. You were his priority.

“My daughter… she searches for him,” you sobbed, nuzzling closer into Aegon’s chest as he pulled you in tighter. “I don’t know what to tell her. How can I let her hold out hope when I am void of it myself? How do I gain the will to face him if he ever returns?”

Aegon sighed, his lips planting a kiss on your hair before he could stop himself. You smelled of fresh lavender, a scent so enticing and sweet. He couldn’t help peppering another kiss to your head, then another, before leaning his cheek against you.

“You do not have to, princess,” he said, his hand lowering to rub your back comfortingly. The king imagined the pair of you must look like lovers laid up like so, like man and wife. He cursed himself for thinking such thoughts while you wept for another, but his heart could never be silenced. “If you have no wish to be by his side, you will have it so. Your own apartments, your own space away from him. He would be turned away from your door if you command it. I shall see it done.”

“What will everyone else think? My name and reputation have been tainted by this disgrace,” you seethed, pushing yourself to lean on your elbow to look at Aegon. He could feel your breath on his face, could see you in perfect detail like this. Your pretty lashes had clumped from your tears, and a subtle flush had settled across your cheeks.

By the Seven, you were beautiful.

“I shall cut off any tongue that dares to speak against you, I promise this to you,” the king vowed, sealing his oath with a kiss to the inside of your wrist. You merely stared at him, searching for any signs of insincerity. You couldn’t bear another lie, and with Aegon you found none.

“Thank you, my king, thank you,” you expressed, pressing a reverent kiss on his scarred hand. Aegon felt blessed to have been bestowed such a touch on his ugliness, and he could only wish to be granted more.

“You need not thank me, sister,” he responded. With a rush of boldness, he cupped your jaw, a fiery hope stoking in his veins when you leaned into his touch. “I would do anything for you… anything.”

His words made you look at him, eyes clouded in thought. Aegon could practically feel the gears of your mind working, and for a moment, he worried. He must have overstepped his bounds, had put your friendship into jeopardy when he let too much of his affection show. The elder Targaryen opened his lips to speak, to deflect, but you had stunned him when you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away in an instant to gauge his reaction, tracing the tingling remnants of his plump lips on yours with your fingertips. A look of shock you both mirrored, but before you could apologize, Aegon grabbed your arm, tugging you closer.

“Do it again,” he urged, to which you obliged obediently. He kept his hand on your occiput to keep you close, his tongue splitting your lips to deepen the kiss. Aegon had found bliss, with the way your tongue danced against his, your moan reverberating against his lips when he sucked on your plush, bottom lip. Your leg had slithered halfway across his waist, your calf rubbing his hardening length through his undergarments. The king groaned, squeezing your plump rear through your robe.

The comfort you found in the time you spent together had you only clad in your robe and nightgown during your late-night visits, seeing no harm in being in a state of undress with the silver-haired man. Aegon, however, had to hide the evidence of how much you affected him under his blankets. It was worse when the nights were chilly, and your nipples pebbled under the thin fabrics of your garments. The self-control he willed himself to bear was almost too much, but now his efforts were coming to fruition.

You pulled away to untie your robe, shrugging it off in haste before returning yourself to Aegon’s arm. Under the dim light of his chambers, the king could see the darker rims of your nubs, the teasing sight so enticing, he almost started salivating. He attached his lips to your clothed nipple, a dampness growing on the cotton from his spit. You sighed in delight, a whine following when his fingertips pinched your other breast.

“Aegon,” you mewled, the sound so sweet to the king’s ears. Your hand traveled down his unscarred chest, and down to his bulge. You squeezed him through his trousers, rubbing his clothed tip with your thumb. Aegon shamelessly moaned against your chest, hips subtly bucking into your touch. A dampness on his front started to mirror the ones on your nightgown, an ache in his tip making him bite the supple underside of your bosom. His larger palm settled on your waist, urging you to straddle his lap. You hesitated, refusing to move in fear of putting him in pain.

“I will hurt you,” you said, to which the king only replied with a fervent shake of his head.

“You won’t, I promise. P-please…” he insisted. You lifted your other leg, caging him between your thighs. Lifting the hem of your nightgown, you pulled the sheer cotton off, baring yourself to your king.

The air in Aegon’s lungs was taken away from the sight of you. He was stunned, his eyes trailing down your tantalizing form as he committed the sight to memory. If he were to perish on the morrow, he would do it happily if it meant seeing this image of you before he took his last breath.

“You are perfect,” he breathed out, a smile rising on his cheeks when you blushed.

He knew why you were doing this. It was your act of rebellion, your bitter revenge on your husband. Perhaps he should feel hurt, refuse to be used like a pawn, but if he got to have you like this, he could hardly complain.

With bated breath, he let you untie his undergarments, pull out his cock, and stroke it in your palm. It had twitched when you bent to drop a dribble of spit to lubricate his length, and Aegon couldn’t help but imagine all of the times in the past you must have done the same to his brother. Though he figured it mattered little when you were with him in the present, and he vowed to treat you well, better than Aemond ever could, so he may have you again in the future.

His length was hot and heavy against your palm, his scent heady with musk. You had barely spared it a glance when you would urge Aegon to let you apply the soothing balm to the scars on his lower body, but now, it stood tall, commanding your attention. You bit back a moan when you ran his tip against your slit, though your king made no effort to hide his delight. You were growing deliciously wet, painting his tip with your arousal. He would have to taste you next time; perhaps make you ride his face. What a wonderful treat that would be.

Deeming yourself ready, you looked to Aegon. He held your cheek, urging you close for another kiss. It was deep, all-consuming, a silent vow from him to you.

I am yours.

Take me as you wish.

Pulling away, you grabbed his length once more, aligning his tip to your entrance. You both moaned in delight when you began to sink onto his cock, burying him to the hilt. It was a delicious stretch, bringing about a deep satisfaction in your chest after having gone untouched for so long. Aegon gripped your waist tight when you began to bounce up and down at a steady pace, seemingly eager to chase your release without needing the time to adjust.

You mounted him like a horse, your loyal steed. Expert hips moved with grace, your hand planting on Aegon’s stomach to steady yourself. You rode him with an air of desperation like you had a point to prove. You wanted to feel that you were still desirable as a woman, and you needed him to prove it true.

Aegon’s mind was in the heavens. Your walls swallowed him so deliciously, it rendered him witless. He moaned unabashedly, echoing your name into the night. In all his depravity and frivolities, nothing tasted better than fucking your brother’s wife. You were a sight to behold, with your glistening, bouncing breasts and head tilted back in delight. Your brows furrowed while your jaw fell slack, the sweet, sweet music of your pleasure filling his senses. Tears had started to streak down your cheeks; from pleasure or guilt, he knew naught.

Before him was no princess, no, you were a goddess divine.

The wounded king had started to buck his hips against yours, but his weakened body made it difficult to help you chase your release. Pain bloomed on his side, making him grit his teeth. You had slowed your movements from the momentary look of discomfort on his face, making you cup his face in return.

“My king–"

“No, no, keep going, please! Don’t stop,” he babbled, gripping your waist tight to make you continue your ministrations. You could hardly express your worry when his strong grip made you lean over with a yelp, holding onto the headboard above his head. From this position, your breasts dangled over Aegon’s face at a perfect angle. He took your teat into his mouth, suckling the plump mound. The air was starting to grow thick with the smell of sex. Sweat dribbled down your back, as it did on Aegon’s temples.

“I’m so close, gods!” Your thighs were starting to tremble under Aegon’s palms, and he could only hold onto your plump rear to guide you to your release. With a thumb drawing tight circles on your pearl, it took little time for your walls to start squeezing his cock, signaling the start of your release. You came with a cry of his name, your king following suit with a muffled grunt into your chest. His warm seed painted your walls, and he could only hope you would let it find its home in your womb.

Perhaps he could make you round with child, yes, that would surely cement his victory over his brother.

You had returned to his side, breathlessly plopping down onto the mattress. Burrowing yourself into his chest, you let out a delighted hum as your lover planted a kiss on your forehead. Tilting your head to look at him, you found his lips once more. In the dead of night, no other words had been exchanged, just your sighs of contentment.

It was then you heard the thunderous flap of a dragon’s wings over the city. Aegon was startled into defensive alertness, assuming it was their enemy, but the look of utter dread on your face when the dragon’s monstrous size blanketed the Keep in its shadow signified it was no foe.

Aemond had returned.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona please I beg of you, I need more men grovelling and regretting their actions; please give us more of the angsty version of the dukedom au it’s so good, it’s so cathartic please. What happens when the boys realize they fucked up? Who wants to fight Konig upon realizing reader is definitely getting her back blown out by him? Imagine if reader ended up having his baby, or placing divorce papers on Price’s desk, god the ANGST of it all

Here’s my dog as a banana as payment

Original post

THE DOG PICCC TELL YOUR DOG I SAID THEY ARE GOODEST BOY/GIRL EVERRRR ID DIE FOR THEMMM

also thank you to everyone for all the suggestions! I couldn’t add all of them so I’m super sorry for that 😭 and also a thank you to @darkangel4121 for your replies!!

The shift in the household’s demeanor comes slowly, as if the wind has changed direction. At first, it’s little things- a hesitant glance from John, a lingering pause before he leaves a room. Kyle- as you've come to finally learn his first name despite not asking- places your breakfast tray before you with newfound care and no disdainful silence, and Johnny’s meals are cooked to perfection, also a new name you've just so recently been told of. Even Duke Riley himself begins to nod in your direction when he visits, acknowledging your presence in ways he never did before.

But it all feels hollow.

These gestures, once craved, now barely touch you. You are polite, civil, offering faint smiles that do not reach your eyes, acknowledging the changes without truly engaging. Your heart no longer waits at the threshold of their approval; it has found its sanctuary elsewhere, firmly cradled in the hands of a man who has always seen you. Your knight. Your shadow. König.

You walk through the estate, thinking of John’s efforts with a detached air. He invites you to dinners now rather than leave you alone for entire days and nights, his voice gentler, eyes searching for cracks in the walls he helped build. He asks about your day, and you respond with the measured politeness your parents taught you. The warmth he offers now is too late, a sun long set. The flicker of hope in his eyes fades each time you excuse yourself early, your presence like a ghost haunting rooms that no longer feel like home.

König waits for you just beyond the hallways, his presence like a balm to a wound. He falls in step beside you without a word, the weight of his loyalty comforting in a way no amount of decorum could be. He is everything you need- unwavering, fiercely protective, and yours.

In the gardens, beneath a gnarled oak tree, you find moments of peace with him that you could never find within the walls of the estate. You sit together in companionable silence, your shawl and his cape wrapped tightly around you against the evening chill. When you lean against him, pressing your forehead to the cool metal of his armor, you feel his breath hitch. His hand comes to rest at your back, gentle despite the strength he wields.

“I missed you today,” you whisper, your fingers tracing idle patterns over the fabric of his sleeve. It is an admission you would have once swallowed down, but with König, you have no need to hide.

His grip tightens briefly. “I am always here, mylady,” he replies, his voice soft only for you. “You need only call for me.”

“I know.” You close your eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. It beats for you, and that knowledge fills the spaces that loneliness once carved. “You are all I need.”

He shifts then, kneeling before you as he often does, his hands enveloping yours. His gaze is intense, pale eyes searching your face for signs of hesitation, but there are none. “I would give you the world if I could, mylady,” he says, voice low. “But all I have is myself.”

“You are enough,” you say simply, and you mean it. “More than enough. All I could ever want.”

König bows his head, a soft exhale escaping him. “Then I will stay by your side, always.”

The men of the estate still try, fumbling in their newfound efforts to mend what they broke.

John brings you flowers, freshly cut and arranged with care, so you can decorate your drawing room where you occasionally play the harp. You accept them with a polite nod, but they are forgotten in moments, and you go back to asking Konig his opinion on the melody you are playing. Kyle offers to escort you on walks, but you refuse, choosing instead the quiet solace of the garden paths shared with König. Simon’s attempts at conversation are met with cool civility, and Johnny's food largely goes untouched. You allow none of them closer than courtesy demands.

And the gifts received from John and Duke Simon are left untouched. They aren’t much of your style anyways.

But with König, you are different. Soft. Open. You share your thoughts, your fears, the dreams you had long given up on. He listens, always.

One evening, in the safe privacy of your rooms, he rests his head in your lap, a rare moment of vulnerability. You cradle his masked face, tracing the edges of the fabric. You are unafraid of being interrupted; your new maids were quiet and nervous, likely not wanting to be dismissed after the last batch were. You still have no idea how Konig managed to do it, but he spoke to John personally and had them all removed; despite that, you don’t care for their dubious help.

You had made sure to show Konig your appreciation quite thoroughly. Even days later, you swore you could feel how big his hands on your thighs were, keeping you nice and open for his tongue. He'd kept you in that position even when a knock had sounded and someone had entered, but the knowledge of what was going on only sent a sharp thrill of excitement through you.

Still, pettily, you hoped it'd been John who had seen you in the throes of pleasure.

Not right now, Duchess. Not right now.

“Are you tired, my love?” you ask gently, the term of endearment slipping out so naturally it catches even you by surprise, earlier thoughts pushed aside. Still, you have no desire to take it back.

He stills, breath caught. “Say it again. Please.”

“My love.” You smile, leaning closer to press your forehead against his. “You are my love.”

His hands tighten around yours, trembling. “I have always been yours.”

And you believe him. In the warmth of his embrace, you find what the others could now never give- a place where you are cherished, where you are enough. The rest of the estate watches you drift further away, their regret too heavy to shift the chasm that now lies between you. You are beyond their reach, ensconced in a love that was never born out of duty but out of genuine care.

In one of those quiet moments beneath the moonlit sky, after a tiring day of going between appointments and lawyers, you ask him, “Will you take me far from here one day, König? Somewhere far away, where I am free?”

“When you are ready, Liebling,” he promises without hesitation, pale eyes earnest. “I will take you wherever you wish to go.”

The world around you may continue its attempts to pull you back in, but it is too late. Your heart belongs only to the man who has always been your refuge, your shadow, your light. And with him, you finally feel free. König, König, König- and no one else.

dukedom au masterlist

[candy69gurl]

MISSING MOM? NAH

PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x fem!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x fem!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x fem!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x fem!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x fem!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x fem!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x fem!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x fem!reader [seperate]

SYNOPSIS You've been missing your mum on Mother's Day, but stepdad is here to help you feel better. So he offers you his titties to suck on some consolation

WARNING stepcest, pre-established relationship, comfort, m!nipple sucking biting pinching, m!cumming in pants tits & hands, f!nipple playing and sucking, dry humping, handjob, reader asking for milk (Heian Sukuna lol), m!masturbation, m!overstimulation

NOTE this one's requested by my dear @imhellakawai.. We're just girls (with daddy issues) ... I laughed a lot while writing this.. Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me or report my post; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh).

◈ SATORU GOJO

Gojo enters the house. He's just returned from a mission. A mission on Mother's Day, of all days, had been a particularly cruel twist of fate. But it's not the praise or adrenaline that he's met with. Instead, the sound of sobbing fills the room as you pounce on him, your cries tearing at his heart..

"Hey, hey, baby," he says softly, kneeling in front of you. He gathers you into his arms, hugging you close. "It's okay, I'm here now."

You cling to him, the sadness and longing for your mother clear in your voice. "I miss mommmmmmmmm, pls daddy .. I need mommy," you wail, your body shaking with sobs.

He picks you up, cradling you in his arms as he blindly stumbles through the house, murmuring comforting words. "I know, I know, baby. It's tough without her. But I'm here for you, okay? I'll always be here for you."

Once he reaches your room, he closes the door behind him, enveloping you both in privacy and quiet. He lays you gently down onto your bed, following after you to sit beside you.

His hand reaches out, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, wiping away the tears that continue to slip down. "You don't have to be sad," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "You have me. I'll be here for you, every step of the way."

Knowing that he can't replace your mother, Gojo draws strength from the idea that he can be there for you in his own way. He can't change the past, but he can make the present and future as comforting as possible.

Gojo scoots over next to you on the bed, gently laying you down. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his body, feeling your warmth and softness against him.

His heart aches for you, knowing how much you miss your mother. He kisses the top of your head, whispering softly, "I'll take you to your favorite restaurant tomorrow, promise baby. I'll spend the whole day with you. We'll go to the park, maybe take a walk through the city, and have as much fun as we can."

His voice is soothing, his promise of tomorrow's happiness a balm for your wounded heart. You start to relax in his arms, the weight of your sorrow lightening as he whispers sweet things in your ear.

"Sleep now, baby," he says, his hand gently stroking your hair. "I'll be right here."

Gojo drifts off to sleep, exhausted from his mission and the emotional weight of the day. He's still wearing his uniform, which now seems to serve as a barrier between him and the comfort of sleep.

In the middle of the night, your eyes flutter open, your sleep disturbed by the sight of Gojo, still and serene, his features soft in slumber. A pang of love and tenderness fills you, making you want to make sure he's as comfortable as possible.

Quietly, you reach out, your fingers working at the buttons of his uniform, unfastening it bit by bit. You're careful not to disturb him, your movements gentle and calculated. Once you've freed him from the confines of the uniform, leaving him in just his shirt and trousers.

You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in deep, the scent of him enveloping you. Your hands slip under the hem of his shirt, resting on his skin. They travel up his neck, then down to his chest, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles.

The sensation of his skin under your touch ignites something within you, a desire to explore, to connect. You unbutton his shirt, revealing his firm chest. You glance up at him, gauging his sleep. He's still deeply unconscious.

With a newfound bravery, you lean forward, your tongue darting out to trace the curve of one of his nipples. The sensation is electric, a shiver running down your spine. You close your lips around it, sucking gently, your tongue teasing it.

His hand comes up, wrapping around the back of your head, pulling you closer. His fingers thread through your hair, a soft moan escaping his lips. His other hand slides down your back, gripping your hip firmly.

Gojo's reaction spurs you on, your mouth traveling between his nipples, your tongue playing with them. You're lost in the sensations, the taste of him, the warmth of his skin. You're learning, but more than that, you're basking in the intimacy of the moment.

Gojo suddenly bursts into laughter, the sound filling the room. "Baby, what are you trying to do?" he says, the amusement in his voice apparent.

You pull back, flustered, your cheeks turning red with embarrassment. You realize he's awake now, and you hadn't even noticed. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." Your voice trails off, unsure how to explain your actions.

Gojo's expression softens, his hand cupping the back of your head. "Baby, you've been missing mommy so bad that sucking on daddy's nipples is making you feel better?" He doesn't scold you for what you've done, for taking matters into your own hands. Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, his tone gentler now.

"Go on," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I'm liking it." He presses your face against his chest, encouraging you to continue. The approval in his voice, the warmth of his body, it calms the storm within you, reassuring you that you're not in trouble, that he's happy to share this intimate moment with you.

You resume your actions, your lips and tongue worshiping Gojo's nipples. Your eyes remain locked on his face, watching in the dim light as his cheeks flush with color, his pink petite nipples hardening beneath your touch. Your gaze drops, noticing his bulge against his pants, the outline of his erection straining against the fabric.

As your mouth works on his nipples, his hands reach down, rubbing at himself through his pants. You notice the way he's whimpering, twitching under your ministrations. You seize the moment, pushing him onto his back before climbing on top of him. Your hips grind against his hardening member, your mouth still busy on his nipple.

Gojo whimpers, trying to tell you to slow down, but you take it as encouragement, sucking even harder. Your tongue flicks over his nipple, and you gently nibble at it. You switch to the other nipple, repeating the motions, teasing him.

He tries to pry you off with his hands, gripping your hair gently, but you're determined, not letting him stop you. You pinch both nipples, twisting them between your fingers. Gojo arches his back, cumming through his pants, the evidence dampening the fabric.

Gojo gasps, his eyes wide, "Oh my, what a bad girl you are." Despite the teasing tone, there's an underlying sense of pride, of admiration, in his voice.

You purr, satisfied with the reaction you've elicited. You scoot closer to him, pressing kisses to his cheeks before snuggling into his arms. The warmth of his body envelops you, the rhythm of his breaths lulling you into a peaceful slumber. This time, you sleep soundly in his embrace, the ache in your heart starting to fade away.

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

The day stretches on, your sadness a tangible weight. Mother's Day is a cruel reminder of the loss that haunts you, the constant ache palpable as you sit on the couch, your phone providing a window to the world of mother-daughter relationships.

Toji notices your distress, the wetness on your cheeks and the tremble in your shoulders, but he remains silent, giving you space while he goes about his own business. It isn't until you let out a soft whimper that he can't bear your pain any longer.

"Come on ya, don't be a cry-baby now," he says gently, his voice a gentle reprimand. "You're much older." His tone is laced with affection, the concern evident in his eyes.

You cover your face with your arms, the humiliation of being seen in such a vulnerable state bubbling up inside you. "I'm sorry," you mumble, trying to hide your shame.

Toji approaches, his large frame casting a shadow over you as he sits down next to you. He slides an arm under your neck, pulling you onto his thighs, your head resting on his lap. His hand starts to work its way through your hair, a comforting and gentle gesture.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his thumb stroking your temple. "It's normal to miss her. I miss her too." His words are a balm, his touch soothing as you allow yourself to be consoled, the weight of the day slowly lifting.

Toji gently removes your hands from your face, taking the opportunity to wipe away the tears that cling to your eyes. His gaze is filled with compassion, the understanding in his eyes a testament to his own grief.

Without warning, you pull his head towards you, your lips capturing his in a tender kiss. Toji is caught off guard at first, but he returns the gesture, the comfort of human connection a balm for your sorrow.

You move from kissing his lips to the scar near his lips, your lips lingering on the familiar mark. When your sobbing subsides, you pull away from him, the desire for retribution sparking within you.

"You called me a cry-baby!" you retort, your voice tinged with indignation. In a sudden burst of energy, you pounce on Toji, straddling him on the couch. Your hands reach for his sides, your fingers dancing in a feeble attempt to tickle him.

Toji smirks, his hands wrapped around your waist, thwarting your efforts to tickle him. "It's true, you are a baby," he teases, the mocking light in his eyes intensifying.

Determined to make him pay for his mockery, you shift your focus to his chest, your teeth finding purchase on his nipple through his black tshirt. The action is bold, the bite hard enough to leave a mark.

Surprisingly, instead of the expected yelp, Toji lets out a low moan, the sound hanging in the air between you. The unexpected reaction leaves both of you momentarily stunned, the implications of your actions heavy in the room.

Toji releases his grip on you, clearing his throat awkwardly. You look at him, confusion clouding your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

With a swift motion, you raise his tshirt, exposing his chest, and immediately set about sucking on his nipples. His eyes widen, his composure slipping a little at the sudden, intense attention you're lavishing on him.

Despite his attempts at restraint, Toji's arousal is evident, his erection straining against the confines of his pants. The way you tease him, alternating between sucking and licking his nipples, is tantalizing, making it increasingly difficult for him to ignore your advances.

Then, without warning, you take it a step further. Your teeth bite down on his nipple, following it up with a painful pinch. The resulting sound that escapes Toji's lips is a mixture of pain and pleasure.

The line between what's acceptable and inappropriate has been crossed, and Toji can no longer hold back. His hands grab you, forcefully pulling you off his chest and forcing you onto your back. Without hesitation, he lifts your shirt, exposing your sensitive breasts.

"Quit, brat. Now it's time for payback," he growls, his voice laced with a mix of dominance and desire. His mouth descends on your nipple, his tongue flicking against the hardened nub while his hand reaches for his pants, freeing his erection.

He strokes himself leisurely, his gaze never leaving your flushed face as he continues to suck on your nipples.

You moan softly, the sensations coursing through you leaving you breathless. You attempt to pull him away, but Toji remains resolute, his mouth firmly latched onto your nipple.

As his hand works his cock in tandem with his mouth on your chest, the tension between you builds. Your moans grow more desperate, the pleasure-pain of his actions leaving you both bewildered and intoxicated.

Finally, the dam breaks. Toji lets out a shuddered groan, his seed spilling onto your chest. The warmth coats your skin, the result of your actions etched on your body.

He releases hsi grip on your body, his breathing heavy, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of satisfaction and awe. The intimacy of the act is undeniable, the world beyond the confines of the room fading into insignificance.

You stare at the mess he's left on your tits, the implications of your actions sinking in. The dynamic between the two of you has shifted, the boundaries you've pushed a testament to the newfound uncharted territory you now occupy.

You sigh heavily, the weight of your grief bearing down on you once more. "Ghhh, I miss mom," you say again, your voice tinged with bitterness.

Toji lets out a frustrated sound, his hand coming up to slap his forehead. "For the love of God, shut up," he groans, his tone laced with exasperation.

◈ NANAMI KENTO

You tiptoe into Nanami's room, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He looks up from his book, concern etched on his face, as he notices your state. He sets the book aside, rushing to your side. Nanami kneels before you, placing a hand on your knee, "Honey, sweetheart, why are you crying?"

Your voice shaky, you tell him. "Today's Mother's Day, and I miss mom." Tears stream down your cheeks once more, the pain of missing your mother overwhelming you.

Nanami's eyes soften, and he feels a pang of sadness for your loss. "Come here, sweetheart. Tonight, you're sleeping with me. We can cuddle the pain away." He helps you up, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You cling to him, grateful for the comfort he offers. Nanami leads you to the bed, gently laying you down. He adjusts the covers, tucking you in before climbing in beside you. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against his chest. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling safe and comforted by his presence.

Nanami begins to hum a soft tune, caressing your hair gently. The rhythmic motion lulls you into a sense of calm, your sobs subsiding. You nuzzle closer, enjoying the warmth and security his embrace provides. As the night wears on, his reassuring touch and the sound of his heartbeat slowly lull you to sleep, your heart heavy, but not quite as broken.

Feeling safe and snuggled against Nanami, you begin to drift off to sleep. Your eyes flutter closed, but something catches your attention. As you lay against Nanami's chest, you notice that his shirt buttons are ajar, and his nipples are exposed.

A shiver runs down your spine as your mind wanders what if I- and without a moment's hesitation, you lunge forward, getting on top of him. You wrap your lips around one of his nipples, sucking gently. Your tongue flicks against it, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

Nanami's grip on you tightens, momentarily stunned by your sudden, bold action. His brow furrows, but he allows you to continue for a few moments before whispering, "Do you miss mommy this bad?"

You pause, unsure of how to respond, but the wanton desire you feel doesn't abate. You nuzzle against him, smiling into his chest before continuing your play with his nipple.

Nanami's hands travel to your hair, gripping it tightly as he lets out an involuntary moan. "Gosh… stop now, tis' too much," he commands, his voice thick with desire.

You ignore his plea, unbuttoning more of his shirt to expose the other nipple. You switch to that one, sucking it hungrily as Nanami's moans grow louder. His breathing quickens, and you can feel the need building in him.

"Sweetheart, I c-can't anymore," he begs, the desperation in his voice unmistakable. You look up at his face, smiling devilishly as you see the strain in his pants. You realize he's on the verge of losing control, and he frees his cock, stroking it gently as you continue to suck his nipple.

Nanami's moans grow louder, and his breathing becomes more erratic. You can feel the tension in his body, and he finally cums, moaning as he strokes himself. You continue sucking even after his orgasm subsides, enjoying the reactions you've elicited.

Nanami pries you off this time, his hands firmly but gently removing your mouth from his nipple. "What the hell were you doing?" he asks, a mixture of amusement, surprise, and arousal in his voice. You look up at him, your eyes full of childish innocence, before planting a kiss on his nose.

You giggle, snuggling close to him once more, your arms wrapping around him. You drift off to sleep, nestled against his body, content in the afterglow of invasion of his nipples.

◈ GETO SUGURU

The day's significance weighs heavy on your heart, a constant reminder of the void left by your mother's absence. You resist the urge to break down in tears, not wanting to burden Suguru with your sorrows.

Yet, as the day progresses, the weight of your emotions becomes too much to bear. Suguru notices the change in your demeanor, his keen senses picking up on your distress.

Confronting you, he demands an explanation for your unsettled state, refusing to be brushed off. You hesitate, unsure of how he'll react. But in the end, the yearning to share your feelings with someone overwhelms your fear.

Your voice wavers as you confess your longing for your mother. The confession hangs heavily between you, the vulnerability on display a stark contrast to the usual power dynamic.

To your surprise, Suguru doesn't scoff or mock you. Instead, his laughter is tinged with sympathy, a rare display of emotion from him.

"It's alright, Y/N," he says, gently guiding you into his embrace. "I know what it's like to miss someone. Even sorcerers lose their loved ones."

His arms wrap around you, comforting you in a way that is both unexpected and welcome. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart meld with the rhythm of your own, creating a temporary haven from the world.

The tears you've been holding back finally spill over, the weight of your sorrows lightening with each drop. In this moment, your monkey status ceases to matter, and you're simply the non-sorcerer girl he loves the most.

As tears stream down your face, your fingers tighten around his gojogesa. When you finally glance up, you're met with Geto's unexpectedly kind gaze. "You know.. I'm a bit like your mother too, don't you think?" he gently suggests. You shake your head, unable to comprehend. He then adopts a playful pout, asking, "Why do you need your mother when you have me?"

You wipe your tears, your fingers leaving damp trails across your face. Caught off guard by the kindness in Suguru's eyes, you hesitate before responding.

Your thoughts whirl, searching for an answer to his question. "I don't know," you admit, your voice small and unsure. "It's just..." Your words trail off, unable to articulate the feelings that bind you to your mother.

Suguru pouts, a childish expression that softens the severity of his features. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for you to continue.

Your gaze lingers on his chest, drawn to the unseen nipples beneath the fabric. You swallow, a faint blush creeping up your neck. Your eyes focusing on the area you've found out, your curiosity piqued by the hardened nubs nestled beneath his clothing. Swallowing hard, you gather your courage and ask, "Can I touch these?"

He chuckles, the sound pleasant in your ears. Suguru unties the sash of his gojogesa, letting it fall open to reveal his bare chest. "Go ahead," he encourages, his voice low and commanding.

At first, you hesitate, the proximity to his skin making you feel self-conscious. Slowly, you reach out, your fingers trembling as they brush against his nipples. The sensitivity of the flesh causes his body to shudder.

Encouraged by his reaction, you apply gentle pressure, watching as his nipples react to your touch. They harden further, a stark contrast against his smooth skin.

Suguru's eyes close, the pleasure evident in the soft moan that escapes his lips. His chest rises and falls with every breath, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming.

Your curiosity leads you to act without thinking, your lips capturing one of his nipples. The sudden warmth and wetness surprise Suguru, his hand instinctively moving to caress your hair.

He holds back a surprised laugh, allowing you to continue. As you suck gently, his breathing deepens, his body reacting to the unanticipated stimuli. The sensation of your mouth against his nipple proves to be more sensitive than he'd imagined, and he can feel the stirrings of arousal in his loins.

His cock starts to swell, the fabric of his clothes straining to contain it. The hardening flesh presses against your thigh, a testament to your newfound skill.

Suguru's hold on your hair tightens, the pleasure coursing through his body making it difficult to form coherent thoughts.

The sensation of his erection sends a thrill up your spine, causing you to giggle sheepishly. Suguru returns your laughter with a smirk, his eyes heavy with desire. With quick movements, he pulls your top off, revealing your own breasts.

His large hands cup your breasts, fingers tracing circles around your nipples. You squirm under his touch, attempting to dislodge his hands. But his grip is firm, refusing to let go.

"Why did you stop?" he asks, his voice low and commanding, tinged with a hint of playfulness. "Don't you want to feel what I am feeling?"

The question piques your curiosity, and you press your mouth back onto his nipple. As you suckle, Suguru mirrors your actions, dragging his fingers across the other nipple. They continue to toy with your hardening nubs, the sensations building with each stroke.

The rhythmic and insistent play continues, both of you immersed in the dance of pleasure. The intensity escalates, culminating in a sharp intake of breath from Suguru as he reaches his climax.

His fingers tighten around your nipples pulling and pinching them, his seed spilling onto his clothes. The sudden combination of pleasure and pain from his grip makes you nibble on his nipple, the dual sensations intoxicating.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, both of you pull back, panting from the intensity of the encounter.

Bashful, you hide your face in his chest, the intimacy of the situation leaving you flushed and breathless. Suguru's fingers trail along your spine, a gentle caress that soothes your nerves.

In the moment of quiet, he asks, "Do you still miss your mom?"

Your voice is soft, tinged with a hint of sincerity as you respond, "N-no... not that much. Not when you're around."

A gentle chuckle emanates from his chest, and you can't help but join in. The shared laughter is a moment of vulnerability, healing the longing you have for your mother.

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

Today is Mother's Day, and the emptiness of missing your mother looms over you like a dark cloud. You feel lost, and the void inside your heart seems to stretch and grow, making you lash out in frustration. Uraume tries to comfort you, but it's no use. You're consumed by your sadness, and you begin to yell and scream, throwing a tantrum.

"WHERE IS DAD!" you cry out, your voice raw with emotion. Uraume, sensing your distress, tries to follow you, their small hands reaching out to you as if to calm you down. But you're too lost in your grief, and you keep running, your feet carrying you further and further away from the comfort of the temple.

You don't notice where you're going, your emotions driving you forward. Suddenly, you collide with a solid surface, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of you. As you regain your breath, you look up to find Sukuna squinting down at you, his expression unreadable.

"What did I tell you about screaming?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. His four arms fold across his chest, and his eyes bore into yours, waiting for an explanation.

You frown, tears streaming down your face, "D-dad," you start slowly, your voice cracking. "I want my mom too, Uraume can't be my mom, I need my real mom. I'm so, so lonely." Your words come out in a rush, the weight of your emotions too heavy to bear alone.

Uraume sighs heavily as they approach Sukuna, their small hands fidgeting with their robes. "Lord Sukuna, she has been throwing her tantrums the whole day. I am tired now... you have to take care of her now," Uraume complains, their voice heavy with exhaustion.

Sukuna nods, his eyes never leaving you. He reaches down, his four arms wrapping around you, easily lifting you from your feet. You continue to throw your tantrums, hitting his back as hard as you can with your fists, but he remains stoic, unperturbed by your outburst.

As he carries you to his room, your sobs slowly die down, replaced by heavy, shaky breaths. Once inside, he gently sets you down on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

"Listen, brat," he begins, his voice stern but laced with a hint of concern. "You don't get to throw tantrums just because you're my child."

But before he can finish, your emotions get the better of you again, and hot tears spill over your cheeks, tracking down your face. You bury your face against his chest, your body shaking with each sob.

Sukuna's eyes soften, and he kneels down beside the bed, allowing you to hide against his hard, muscular form. "Now now, don't cry, brat. I'm not scolding you. I'm just trying to-"

But his words are cut off as you suddenly latch onto one of his nipples, your lips wrapping around it, sucking it into your mouth. You cling to him, your grip tenacious.

Sukuna watches you for a moment, a mixture of surprise and amusement flashing across his features. His hand reaches up to gently stroke your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you continue to suckle on his nipple.

"Ah, that feels nice, brat," he says, his voice a low rumble. He pulls back slightly, giving you better access to his chest. "Do you want to suckle like this, little one?"

You nod, cheeks drying as you continue to suck on his nipple, your mouth warm and wet against his skin. Sukuna relaxes, settling onto the bed, and you nestle against him, your body finally still as you find comfort in this primitive act. In the dimly lit room, you hold on to Sukuna, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your cheek. As you nurse on his nipple, the sadness that had gripped you earlier begins to lift, replaced by a sense of warmth and security.

As you cling to him, your body still, you finally muster up the courage to ask, your voice small and muffled against his chest. "Daddy, can you... can you milk?"

Sukuna can't help but let out a booming laugh at your request, the sound echoing through the room. "You're missing your mother so much, huh?" he chuckles, the sound soft and amused. "I'm not her, so I cannot milk.."

He leans down to kiss the top of your head, his lips warm against your skin. "Go back to sleep now. You'll feel better tomorrow. And I promise, I'm not leaving you."

He nestles you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you, and you snuggle into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body, the beat of his heart, and the safety of his presence. His voice is a soothing lullaby, and soon, your eyes grow heavy, your body drifting off to sleep.

Sukuna's other arms wrap around you, his fingers gently massaging your back. "There, there," he coos, his deep voice soothing you further. "You're safe with me, little one."

The night stretches on, and you continue to suckle, slowly drifting off to sleep, your body lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the comfort of his touch. For now, the emptiness of missing your mother fades into the background, replaced by the love and protection of Sukuna.

◈ SHIU KONG

The day drags on, your spirits dampened by the weight of your sadness. Today, of all days, feels like a cruel reminder of your loss. The celebration of motherhood is a painful sting, a wound that's reopened by the simple act of remembering.

Shiu senses the shift in your demeanour, his eyes sympathetic as he joins you on the couch, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray. You're lost in your thoughts, staring blankly at the TV screen, when he speaks, breaking the silence. "It's a tough day, isn't it?" His voice is gentle, a stark contrast to the usual tone of authority.

You nod, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as you clutch a pillow close to your chest. "I miss her," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. The pain of losing your mother is a constant companion, one that fades with time but never truly disappears.

Shiu's response is immediate, his arms wrapping around you once more, pulling you onto his lap. His hand strokes your hair, an attempt to soothe the ruffled feathers of your heart. His kisses dot your forehead, a tender display of affection.

"I love you," he says, his voice soft and sincere. The words carry a depth of emotion, a promise that despite the circumstances, you are not alone. "Baby, I can do your mom and dad both, okay? Come on, what will make you feel better?"

Your gaze falls on his chest, his nipples pressing against his shirt, the sight momentarily distracting you from your sorrow.

Your hand hesitates, hovering over his chest for a moment before rising, your fingers tentatively brushing against his nipples. Shiu's eyes follow your movement, a hint of confusion coloring his expression.

The words tumble out, pleading and vulnerable, "Can I… will you let… me suck on them, please?" The request is unexpected, a confession of a secret desire, born from a place of grief and yearning.

Shiu's eyes widen, a perplexed expression crossing his features. However, he recovers quickly, nodding as he sits up, pulling his shirt over his head. His chest is revealed, smooth and toned, his nipples a darker hue against the pale skin. "Alright, go ahead. If that will make you miss your mom less."

His words linger in the air, the consent given, the door now open to your desire.

Your heart races as you lean forward, your lips parting as they close over one of the hard nubs. Your tongue flicks out, teasing the sensitive tip, the sensation of skin against your mouth unlike anything you've experienced before.

The taste of him, faint and slightly salty, is a shock to your senses, your mind hazy with the exploration of new territory. As you focus on the task, the ache of missing your mother begins to fade, replaced by a newfound sensation of comfort and intimacy.

The act is strange and all-consuming, your fingers tangled in the fabric of Shiu's pants, the sensation of your lips and tongue on his nipple sending shivers down his spine. His breath hitches, the unexpected turn of events stirring something within him.

His hand rests on your head, gently guiding you as you explore, the touch a mixture of reassuring and possessive. Shiu's body tenses, the involuntary reaction to the sensation you're providing.

The room seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you, connected by the intimate act, the chasm of your loss temporarily bridged by the strange comfort found in the act.

His voice comes out gruff, a mixture of embarrassment and awe in his tone. The admission is unexpected, revealing a side to him you've never seen.

You watch him, unblinking, sensing the shift in his demeanor. The layers of authority and strictness seem to falter for a moment, replaced by vulnerability.

"It's okay," he reassures you, his hand caressing your head gently once more. "It's just, you're awakening feelings I haven't felt in a long time." The confession is startling, the admission opening a door to a world previously unexplored.

The implications of his words swirl in your mind, the weight of the admission leaving you feeling a little shaky. The intimacy between the two of you deepens, the shared secret a bond unlike any other.

You continue your exploration, the newfound knowledge fueling your curiosity, the two of you falling further into the abyss of your connection.

As you continue your sensual ministrations, you become aware of Shiu's attempts to thrust his hips against you, a silent plea for more. Your curiosity piqued, you release his nipple from your mouth, your hands deftly navigating the path to his growing erection.

The feel of his hardness in your hand is electrifying, your fingers curling around the base, your thumb stroking the sensitive head. Your lips return to his nipple as your hand works in tandem, the dual stimulation driving him wild.

His breath hitches, his body arching into your touch, the restraint he's been exerting slipping. Shiu's whimpers fill the room, his need for release palpable. His fingers bury themselves in your hair, clinging to you as you drive him closer to the edge.

Finally, it happens. His body shudders, his hips bucking into your hand as he comes, the warmth of his seed coating your skin. A wave of relief washes over him, his grip loosening as he slumps back into the couch.

You release his nipple, your lips wet from your actions, your hand cradling his spent length. The intimacy of the act hangs heavy in the air, the boundaries you've crossed looming in the aftermath.

The scene is one of vulnerability, a shared secret now binding the two of you in a way that was previously unimaginable. The intensity of the moment is palpable, a new world opened by your exploration, your actions irrevocably changing the dynamic between you and Shiu.

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

You're sitting in your room, the dim light of dusk seeping through the curtains, painting shadows on the walls. Today, Mother's Day, should be brimming with warmth and love, but instead, it feels hollow and icy.

To compound matters, Hiromi, your stepfather, who should be offering solace, is absent too, absorbed in his work as usual. You know he's out there, tackling cases, serving justice to others, but in doing so, he's left you here, isolated, submerged in sadness. While a part of you comprehends his dedication to his job, right now, all you can feel is fury and bitterness.

You want to unleash your frustration on him, to question why he's not by your side, why he's prioritizing work over family on such an important day. But instead, you find yourself curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, the pain in your heart escalating with each passing second.

Hiromi returns home, greeted by an eerie silence. Something about it unsettles him, and he makes his way to your room, curiosity piqued. The moment he opens the door, he hears your quiet sobs, and his steps falter.

"Y/N?" he calls softly, his heart beginning to race.

You're curled up on your bed, tears streaming down your face, your posture tense with anger and sadness. Hiromi hurriedly rushes over and wraps his arms around you, lifting you gently from the bed in a warm embrace.

Your tiny hands attempt to push him away, your voice trembling with emotion.. "Put me downn! Leave me alone!"

Hiromi sets you back on your feet, but he doesn't move away. He waits, giving you space to compose yourself. "Why, baby?" he asks gently. "Why are you crying?"

You glare at him, wiping your nose roughly with the back of your hand. "Tis' mother's day, and you were not here for me." The words come out harshly, your tone betraying the vulnerability beneath. "It's not fair. No one ever thinks about me."

Hiromi's heart aches as he listens to your accusations. He reaches for you, gently pulling you close once more. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, his voice a soft murmur against your hair. "I should have been here with you."

You tense up at his touch, unsure whether to lean into him or resist. He waits patiently, giving you time to process your emotions. "I know today is a difficult day," Hiromi continues, his arms still wrapped around you. "But I'm here now. Let me make it up to you."

Hiromi takes off his suit and crawls into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you lay on your side. "I'm really sorry for not being here for you today. I promise to make it up to you from now on."

He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple. His lips trail down your neck, and he inhales deeply, taking in your scent. His words are a soothing whisper against your skin.

"I love you, and I'm always here for you, even when I'm not. You're my little girl, and I want to protect and care for you, always."

As he continues to shower you in affection, your anger starts to dissipate, replaced by a warmth in your chest. An idea forms in your mind, one that surprises even you. "Can I suck them, Daddy?" You point to Hiromi's nipples, catching him off guard.

His eyes widen, but there's a flicker of curiosity and desire in them. "I should take a shower before," he says, attempting to brush off your request.

Without giving him time to change his mind, you're already leaning forward, unbottoning his shirt, your tongue already tracing circles around one of his nipples. He's caught off guard by your boldness, but it's clear he's enjoying the sensation.

Hiromi's hand threads through your hair, fingers sifting through the soft strands as you lavish attention on his nipple. "Mmm, Y/N..," he breathes out, his voice thick with pleasure. "S-shit" His other hand slides down your back, his fingers kneading your flesh and pressing you closer to him. You smile against his skin, feeling in control for once.

As you continue to lavish attention on his nipple, you can't help but feel a jolt of satisfaction from the way he arches into your touch. His chest rises and falls with heavier breaths, signs of arousal that spur you on.

Hiromi's hand tightens in your hair, his grip firm yet gentle. "Is this my punishment?," he whispers, his tone laced with playful admonishment. "But I can't deny I enjoy this."

Determined to make him suffer your playful punishment, you suck harder on Hiromi's nipple, nibbling on it gently. His moan fills the room, and you can't help but smirk against his skin.

"Fine, fine," he gasps, his voice thick with desire. "You win. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll take a day off just to spend it with you."

A triumphant smile spreads across your face as you pull away from his chest. Hiromi's admission of defeat is all the reward you need. "I'll be back after taking a shower," he tells you, his voice a sultry rumble.

Pouting, you lay back down on the bed, your mind already racing with ideas for the day he's promised you. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of spending an entire day with your stepdad.

As Hiromi heads to the shower, his thoughts aren't as chaste as they should be. The way you'd worshipped his nipple, sucking and nibbling, has left him aroused. He tries to quell his erection, his hand wrapping tightly around his cock.

His other hand moves to his nipples, lightly pinching them as he strokes himself. The shower's warm spray hits him, and Hiromi lets out a ragged sigh, giving into the pleasure as he continues to stroke himself, each motion a reenactment of the sensations you'd provided. He moans, his hips bucking slightly as he paints the shower tiles with his release.

Once he's cleaned up, Hiromi steps out of the shower, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He finds you sleeping peacefully in bed, a sight that fills him with affection.

Carefully, he dresses, then crawls into bed. Wrapping his arms around you, Hiromi rests his chin on top of your head, breathing in your scent. His body is lulled into a deep slumber by the soft rise and fall of your chest against his.

The thought of leaving you again is no longer an option. The memory of your playful punishment lingers, a reminder of how much it meant to you to have his undivided attention. Hiromi vows to make the most of the day he's promised you, never daring to leave you alone again on such a precious day.

◈ CHOSO KAMO

Choso was in the middle of his usual routine when he heard your soft sobs. He drops everything and rushes to you, finding you in tears. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you.

You tell him that it's Mother's Day today and that you miss your mother. He feels your pain, and his heart aches for you. "You miss your mom, huh?"

He cradles you close, cooing softly as you cry into his chest. "It's okay to miss her. I do too, you know. She was a great woman." Choso strokes your hair, trying to calm your sobs. "She'd want us to be happy and continue living our lives." Even his eyes well up with tears, but he holds them back.

When you finally stop crying, Choso leads you to your room, a comforting smile on his face. "Alright, sleep baby. It's night time, and you need to rest."

He turns to leave, but you stop him with your request, "P-please stay with me tonight".

Choso's eyes soften as he understands your need for comfort. "Of course. I'll stay with you tonight, little one."

He lies down beside you, making sure you're tucked in and comfortable. He wraps an arm around your waist, his hand resting on your hip, giving you the feeling of security. "Go to sleep. Daddy's right here," he whispers, closing his eyes to keep vigil over you while you drift off to dreamless slumber. He's never felt so protective and nurturing towards another person, but he's always willing to do it for your sake.

Afte a while, you turn to face Choso, seeing him awake as well. He notices your distress and gently caresses your head. "Not sleeping yet?" His voice is soft and comforting, trying to reassure you.

You shake your head, admitting that you can't fall asleep. Choso cups your face, looking you straight in the eye. "Come on, baby. You don't need anybody else when I'm here. You're safe, and I'll always protect you." He tries to sing softly, but it's more of a hum. Your laughter at his attempt to serenade you makes Choso blush, and you kiss him on the cheek, your hands roaming his chest.

The thin fabric of his shirt reveals hardened nipples, and you can't help but notice. "They're hardening," you whisper, your fingers brushing over them. Choso's eyes widen, unsure of what you're referring to. "What?"

You grin at his confusion, leaning in closer. "Your nipples." With that, you take one into your mouth, sucking gently through his thin shirt. Choso gasps, the unexpected sensation sending shivers down his spine. "Y/N..." he murmurs, unsure of how to react. He's never experienced anything like this before, and your intrusive thoughts have led to a new discovery between the two of you. Choso's body is reacting in ways he doesn't fully understand, but his protectiveness and care for you haven't wavered.

Choso's cock twitches as he lets out a soft moan, whimpering like a baby at the sensation. You're enticed by his reaction, pushing his top away to suck his nipple directly. He arches his back, a string of curses escaping his lips. "G-goddammit, fuck! Hngh!" His body tenses as he accidentally cums in his pants, panting heavily.

Surprised by his reaction, you straddle him and continue sucking his nipples, your hands stroking his slicky shaft, now free from his pants. Choso gasps, feeling a heightened sensitivity. "Baby, no more. I get it. You miss your mom. Now stop," he whimpers, his hands attempting to pull you off. His efforts are in vain.

You continue to play with his cum-covered cock and lick his neck, moving back to his nipples. Sucking them as if you're a milk pump, you enjoy the reaction you're getting from Choso. His body writhes underneath you, a mix of pleasure and discomfort.

He's never experienced anything like this, and the intense emotions he's feeling are growing. Despite his attempts to stop you, he's also enjoying your attention, the line between pain and pleasure blurred.

Choso's hips thrust against your hand as his fingers wraps around your head, urging you to suck his nipples harder. Your other hand pinches his other nipple, tease his earlobes. The sensory overload is too much, causing him to cum again, this time all over your hand.

You pull your mouth away, both of you breathing heavily. You giggle, feeling a sense of satisfaction from your actions. Choso looks at you, panting, as if you're a devilish baby. He can't help but laugh along with you, the tension breaking.

You both collapse into each other, exhausted and satisfied. The night air envelops you as you fall into a deep sleep, the events of the night unfolding a new connection between Choso and you. His protectiveness has blossomed into something deeper, subtly changing the dynamic between the two of you.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

[singmyaubade]

the greatest heist

james potter x female!reader

summary: when james's girlfriend decides to fuck with you, your only other choice is to fuck with her.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, wearing, jealousy

a/n: my bad for taking so long.. enjoy & as always, i apologize if you hate this!

part 1 | part 2

SITTING in the Hospital Wing for the rest of your glamorous night was certainly not on your bucket list for the year.

You couldn't believe that while your friends were most likely on their next shot of Firewhiskey, there you were, sitting with an ice pack on your ankle and a yellow, now turning purple, bruise resting below it.

The scowl on your face couldn’t be more defined before a gentle squeeze on your forearm snapped you out of your angered thoughts.

A sweet, warm James sat beside you, his comforting smile as kind as ever. You gave him a shy smile in return, reluctant to admit that his presence made you feel just a little bit better.

"You know, you don’t have to stay here," You said, voice soft but sincere. "You don’t have to stay out of pity for me while the rest of our friends are probably on their fourth round of Truth or Dare." You snorted, trying to make light of it.

James lightly laughed, the sound warm and comforting. "I wanna be here," He replied sweetly, making your heart swell despite yourself. "I mean, I am partly to blame for your injury."

You snickered, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, your vicious twirling of me is definitely what did it."

He yawned dramatically. "Yeah, I’m so strong," He flexed one arm with exaggerated pride, earning a laugh from you as you playfully swatted at him.

"Well, dearie!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, appearing suddenly from the patient beside you. "It seems it’s just a deep bruise—nothing a bit of Bruisewart Balm won’t fix," She stated, handing you the small jar of balm. "I’d recommend taking it easy on your feet for a day or two, but nothing too strenuous."

"Thank you, Madame Pomfrey," You smiled as she nodded and moved on to her next patient.

"And to prevent more bruising," Pomfrey added with a sly smile, "I’d recommend staying away from Mr. Potter over here."

James frowned. "Oh Pops, how you wound me!" He said dramatically, making Pomfrey roll her eyes and walk away.

The tension in the room lifted, but as James turned back to you, the air between you two shifted. You met his gaze, and for the first time, you noticed the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, how the dim light of the Hospital Wing made them look even more intense. You felt your heart race in your chest as he cleared his throat.

"Well, it seems like you won’t need to stay overnight," James said, a little too casually, his voice softer than usual. "May I help you hop back to your dorm m'lady?" His hand extended out for you.

You blinked at him, a little surprised at his suggestion. "What a gentleman," You mocked, though your voice was lighthearted as he helped you carefully get to your feet, his hand steady at your waist and the small of your back.

You both started down the hallway, his support a comforting presence as you tried to regain your balance on your injured ankle.

"You know Emma’s going to kill me, right?" You said with a dry chuckle.

James huffed in response, his arm still around you. "She’s really not as deadly as you all make her out to be," he said lightly.

You scoffed, shaking your head. "I think there’s a reason all the girls in sixth year have stayed away from you, and it isn’t because of your looks or personality."

James laughed, but there was a tinge of embarrassment in his eyes. "Well, she’s just really protective, you know?" He helped you adjust your step as you hopped slightly, trying to stay balanced. "She cares about me."

You raised an eyebrow. 'Protective doesn’t mean bat-shit crazy,' You thought to yourself.

"But I am sorry for how she’s been treating you," James continued, his voice turning a little more serious. "We broke up over it, you know?"

You didn’t know how to respond. You’d heard they’d had a fight, but you hadn’t realized it had escalated to that point.

"Over me?" you asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah," He nodded, his voice almost sheepish. "I know we haven’t talked much in the last couple of years, but you’ve always meant a lot to me, you know? So, when she gave me that choice—you or her—I thought it was a load of bollocks, but in the end, I think it was what we both needed. To take a step back, I mean."

You felt your stomach twist at his words. You knew their relationship had always been complicated, but hearing it from him like this was not what you had expected.

"And how did she take that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

James’s face softened, but there was a faint trace of sadness in his expression. "She yelled. Cursed me out for a bit, slammed the door, and I haven’t seen her since."

You nodded, processing his words. You hoped to feel happy and to be excited, but you only felt sadness for James. Despite your dislike for Emma, he had seemed to actually enjoy her presence.

And all you ever wanted for James was for him to be happy even if it meant the literal Anti-christ being his girlfriend.

"Well," You said quietly, "I'm sorry to hear that."

James looked over at you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Thanks."

The silence stretched between you two as you hobbled along the corridor. You could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, and something about it made your heart beat a little faster.

"Can I ask you something?" You ventured, glancing up at him.

"Anything," James replied, his voice sincere.

"Why didn’t you ever... you know, talk to me about this before? You’ve been kind of distant, and—" You cut yourself off, not wanting to sound too accusatory.

James gave a small, rueful chuckle. "Guess I was just stupid, huh?" He looked over at you, his expression thoughtful. "I always figured things would work themselves out, and we would get closer in the future. But maybe I was wrong or just scared of Emma." He lightly laughed.

You didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so you stayed quiet for a moment, your mind racing. The conversation felt like it was drifting toward a place you weren’t sure you were ready for, but at the same time, a part of you felt like you needed the conversation.

As you approached the Gryffindor Tower entrance, you could see the Fat Lady’s portrait in the distance, and the familiar weight of the evening was starting to settle back into place.

"This is me," You said, trying to keep your tone light as you stopped in front of the portrait.

"Yeah," James replied softly, a bit quieter now like he didn’t want the moment to end. "But, you know, if you ever need anything—"

"I know where to find you," You said, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

James looked at you for a long moment, and for just a beat, it felt like everything between you two shifted again. His eyes were intense, but there was something more in them now, something that made your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "You do."

You turned toward the Fat Lady, trying to mask the sudden rush of emotions coursing through you. You gave her the password, and as the portrait swung open, you took a last glance at James.

"Night, James," You said, your voice soft.

"Goodnight," he replied, his gaze lingering on you as you stepped inside.

And for a brief moment, you couldn’t help but wonder, maybe there was more to your friendship than you’d ever realized.

--

"He said what?!" Dorcas yelled excitedly, her voice carrying across the otherwise quiet Great Hall. You quickly shushed her, eyes darting around the room to make sure no one was watching. It was way too early for this kind of drama.

You had both decided to wake up an hour earlier than all the other girls for two very important reasons: 1) You didn’t trust Emma, and 2) You really didn’t trust Emma.

A few third-years glanced up from their breakfast, clearly curious about the outburst. You snorted, trying to hide your smile as you took another bite of toast.

"And what did you say?" Dorcas asked, her eyes practically sparkling with curiosity.

"Nothing," You muttered, refusing to meet her gaze as you stared off into the distance.

"What do you mean you said nothing?!" She questioned loudly, banging her hand against the table with enough force to rattle your plate.

You grabbed her hands quickly, trying to calm her down. "Stop doing that!" You whispered, sending apologetic glances to the third-years who were now staring openly at you.

"I just mean you had a perfect opportunity to get back at Emma, get Potter on your side, and you said nothing?!" Dorcas exclaimed, her voice rising with the excitement of her accusation.

You sighed, guilt twisting in your stomach. "I can’t do that to him, Dorc," You said quietly.

She stared at you for a long moment, clearly processing your words. There was a flash of realization in her eyes before she grinned, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You like him!"

You felt your face heat up as you rolled your eyes. "I do not."

"You do," She sang, drawing out the words like she was taunting a child.

"I do not," You said firmly, refusing to let her win.

"But you do—"

"I do not!" You interrupted, suddenly shouting, not even bothering to care about the third years who were now openly staring at you.

Dorcas smirked in victory. "Yeah, sure you don’t."

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. "This can’t be happening to me. It’s been one day since the plan was made!" You whined, half-exasperated, half-amused.

Dorcas gently pried your hands away from your face, her fingers rubbing soothing circles into your knuckles. "You can’t just hold your feelings in. If you like Potter, then so what?" She said gently, trying to comfort you. "Better than that evil witch."

You snorted at that. "I can't, Dorcas. I refuse to like someone who has the craziest ex-girlfriend in all of girlfriend history."

She sighed dramatically, looking at you as if you were the most difficult person in the world. "So what’s your master plan now, huh? Avoid him forever?"

You put on a fake, thoughtful face. "Avoid him," You pondered with a smile. "It’s the only option. Great idea, Dorc!"

Dorcas huffed, shaking her head as she took her hands away from yours. "Yeah, maybe just avoid him," She muttered, clearly not sold on your brilliant plan.

You laughed and stabbed a fork into your eggs. "Exactly."

Before Dorcas could reply, a voice slid in beside her, smooth and familiar. "Isn’t it the prettiest ladies I’ve had the honor of seeing as I awake?" Sirius Black drawled, grinning widely. Dorcas immediately shot him a disgusted look, scooting a few inches away from him.

"What do you want, Black?" You asked, already annoyed before he could even open his mouth again.

"Why do you treat me so horribly when I just want your love?" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, clutching his chest as if you had wounded him deeply.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his antics.

"Are all of the Marauders this dramatic?" Dorcas asked, still eyeing Sirius in distaste.

"Believe it or not, yes," You confirmed, just as someone slid into the seat beside you.

"Good morning," James Potter greeted, flashing you that same sweet smile you had trouble getting out of your head.

You immediately felt a flutter in your chest. Your throat seemed to dry up as you turned to look at him. He looked radiant this morning—like the sun itself had decided to take residence in his smile.

You gulped, your brain scrambling for words. You quickly glanced at Dorcas, who gave you a subtle shake of her head, silently telling you not to do anything rash.

"Morning!" you rushed out, way too eager. You quickly gathered your things, mentally panicking. "I actually have to go study in the library for a while, so I’m just gonna go ahead." You stood quickly, trying to make your escape.

James stood up with you, looking at you with those shining eyes. "I can come with," He offered cheerfully, clearly not reading the room at all.

You shook your head rapidly, desperate to escape the conversation. "No, no! I’ll be fine!" you said a little too quickly, almost tripping over your own feet as you backed away. "I’ll just see you later."

James and Sirius exchanged a curious glance as you rushed off. You breathed a sigh of relief the moment you stepped out of the Great Hall and into the corridor.

Finally, peace and quiet.

But then you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and saw James Potter jogging to catch up.

"Hey!" He called out, clearly not bothered by your earlier panic. "I decided to come with you since I’ve got nothing to do. Figured we could walk to class together after studying." He said it so cheerfully as if you hadn’t just escaped from his company a few moments ago.

You blinked, speechless. You hadn’t expected him to follow you. You didn’t think it would be this hard to get James Potter off your back.

He matched your pace, the two of you walking side by side in the silence that felt anything but comfortable.

And you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a moment, if your life had just become infinitely more complicated than you had planned.

"So, what did you need to study?" James asked, his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he looked at you with that easygoing grin of his.

You quickly scrambled for an answer, the pressure of his gaze making your mind race. "Astronomy!" You replied a bit too quickly, the excitement in your voice betraying your nerves.

"But you've always been good at Astronomy," James raised an eyebrow, his gaze skeptical as he studied you closely.

You tried to shrug it off, but your voice betrayed you. "I'm afraid the subject's been slowly slipping from me," You said, forcing a smile.

His face softened, the skepticism fading into a more understanding look. "Yeah, Professor Sinistra does tend to move quickly," He said, nodding in agreement. "I even tried to cast a time-slowing spell on her once just to get down all my notes."

You laughed, the image of James trying (and likely failing) to slow down the Professor amusing. "And what did you get in return?" you asked, a teasing grin playing on your lips.

"Two weeks of detention," He said, smirking as if the whole thing was just a funny memory. "Totally worth it though."

You giggled, the sound feeling lighter in your chest. "Of course it was."

You both walked in silence next to each other, making your way towards the library. You were glad that the silence was comfortable but a part of you still thought avoiding James was the best plan.

You went to sit at a table before James rushed over to you, pulling your chair out for you as you rolled your eyes, "Do you just want me to keep calling you a gentleman?"

"A bit," He shrugged as he sat down across from you.

You opened your textbook for Astronomy, actually deciding to do work since you were there anyways.

You noticed James making paper planes and attempting to get them to fly over your head. By the fourth one, it hit you square in the forehead, and you let out a dramatic sigh.

"Do you need me to give you a task?" You asked, eyeing him with a look that could only be described as 'toddler supervision.'

James rested his head on his palm, his gaze staring off into space. "I just think there are more exciting things we could be doing right now," He replied with a bored sigh.

"Like what?" You asked, raising an eyebrow and offering him a light smile.

He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up with mischief. "I could teach you how to play Quidditch!"

You almost felt sick just hearing the words. You shook your head furiously. "I don't know about that," You said, looking back down at your textbook as if you could will the conversation away.

James grabbed your hand in an exaggerated plea. "Come on, it'll be fun!" He cheered, his enthusiasm making you laugh, but before you could say anything else, the librarian shushed him with a fierce look.

You giggled quietly, "Sorry, James, no," You said firmly, scribbling some notes in your textbook.

James pouted dramatically, laying his head down on the desk in defeat. You studied him for a few moments as he huffed, like a child who hadn't gotten his way.

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist the pull of his antics. "I'm not falling for this."

He continued to pout, his face scrunched in exaggerated misery. He pretended to sniffle dramatically, looking up at you with his big hazel eyes.

"No, James, I mean it," You said, trying to keep your tone firm, but the warmth in your voice betrayed you.

--

And next thing you knew, you were on the Quidditch field.

You yelped loudly as you clung to James’s waist, the wind rushing in your face as he zoomed higher into the sky. "We haven't even made it into the air yet!" James laughed excitedly, clearly having the time of his life as you panicked.

"This is still really high!" You cried out, your grip tightening around him. You dared a glance down and saw the ground growing smaller and more distant by the second.

"Close your eyes, I’ve got you!" James shouted reassuringly, though it still sounded somehow delicate, soothing you.

With a deep breath, you squeezed your eyes shut and gripped him even tighter. The wind whipped around you, but James’s steady hold kept you grounded—physically, at least. When you opened your eyes, the sensation of rising fast into the air filled you with a mix of excitement and dread.

James cheered as you both soared, flipping through the air and spiraling in wide, dizzying motions. You screamed, the wind filling your lungs with cold, sharp air.

But then, as if sensing your panic, James calmed things down, steering the broom to glide slowly over the Black Lake.

You exhaled a long breath, your heart rate slowing as you took in the view. From this height, the lake looked more beautiful than you'd ever seen it before, its surface sparkling in the early morning light.

You rested your cheek against his back, staring down at the glistening water below. "This is really pretty," You murmured, surprised at how peaceful it felt up here.

James chuckled lightly. "It's one of my favorite things to look at when I ride." He smiled, but you could feel his warmth, even through the rush of wind. When you lifted your head to look at him, he glanced back with a grin that seemed to make your heart skip a beat.

"Is this where you disappear to during Quidditch games when you're supposed to be looking for the snitch?" You joked, a teasing lilt in your voice.

James's eyes widened dramatically. "You've figured me out!" he yelled, a laugh bursting from him before he abruptly swerved the broom again, causing you both to spiral upward with another whoosh of wind.

You screamed as you were whipped through the air, but James’s laughter was all you could hear. He cheered as the wind carried you higher, and you couldn’t help but laugh, even as you felt the thrill and panic collide inside you.

Seeing James so excited, gliding through the air, eased most of your fear. His laughter, the way he moved so effortlessly���it was impossible not to feel lighter in his presence.

You hadn’t realized until now how much you wanted to see someone smile like that, so carefree and alive. His joy was infectious, and it made you feel like maybe you were starting to enjoy this too.

James’s grin widened when he saw the way you were watching him. “See? Told you it’s fun up here,” he said, his voice full of that same infectious enthusiasm. He spun the broom gently, making you feel the rush of wind again, and for the first time, you didn’t mind it.

You met his gaze, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s amazing up here,” You admitted.

James’s smile softened as he gently lowered both of you to the ground. You carefully dismounted the broom, your legs still a little shaky from the ride.

As James went to put the broom back in its rightful place, you glanced at your watch—(yes, you had actually bought one)—and your heart dropped. "Shit! James, we’re going to be late!" You yelled, rushing toward him.

He immediately sprinted over as you tossed his bag at him with a hurried "Sorry!" You grabbed yours, slinging it over your shoulder before running up the stairs.

After what felt like an eternity of climbing, you stopped at the first landing to catch your breath.

James huffed, leaning on the railing. "Maybe we should just skip," He suggested, looking at you with a mischievous glint.

You shot him a death glare as the stairs shifted back into place, urging him to hurry. "Not an option, Potter!"

You both barely made it to class, arriving two minutes late. Professor Adair gave you both a disappointed look and gestured to the empty seats in the front. The entire class seemed to turn toward you, exchanging curious glances.

James leaned over and whispered, "Hey, you did great today."

You flushed, feeling a little flustered. "Thanks," You mumbled, half of you still recovering from the flying.

"Think I can have a spot on the team?" You asked, grinning at him.

James grinned back. "Oh, for sure. Your flying skills are impeccable," He said, his tone light and teasing.

"Be careful, Potter. I might take your spot as Seeker." You nudged him, half-joking, but his hand squeezed your thigh lightly in response.

You were about to respond when you saw your friends walking toward you, with Emma trailing behind them. The glare she shot you could've melted stone, and you couldn't help but feel a bit of unease.

"And why were you two late?" Lily asked, her voice mock-stern.

"Well, Mom, we were out flying," James said with a dramatic pout, making you laugh.

Lily looked at you, wide-eyed. "You went flying?"

"How did you make her do that?" Remus asked, half-sitting on his chair in front of you as Sirius snored, head resting on his shoulder.

"I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Y/N jump ," Marlene chimed in, snickering.

You shot her a look, but the corner of your lips twitched. "It was a one-time thing."

"Oh, yeah?" James smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. "I think there’s still more flying to do," He teased, and you giggled.

Your friends exchanged suspicious glances, but Emma’s sour expression cut through the moment. She stepped forward, eyes fixed on James, her voice syrupy sweet. "Well, we’re thinking about going to Hogsmeade tonight," she said, ignoring you completely.

"Sounds fun," You said casually, but Emma’s smile faltered slightly.

Sirius yawned, not looking up from where he was practically asleep on Remus’s shoulder. "So, are you two in?"

James looked at you with a grin. "If M’lady is."

"Sure, why not?" You responded lightly.

Emma looked like she was about to cast the Killing Curse right there, but she held it together, forcing a fake smile. "Great, it’s a date," She said, her eyes burning into you.

You had a feeling that tonight was going to be very interesting.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Sunshine in His Shadows

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: When Bucky withdraws into himself one night, you’re determined to remind him that his past doesn't define him and he doesn’t have to carry his burdens alone.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, mentions of his trauma and anxiety

Author’s Note: You can never go wrong with fluff and a bit of angst. And, I already have an idea for a lighthearted part 2 

Part 2: Teddy Bear Bucky

Also, I added a taglist form!

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics 

The compound was quiet at night, except for the occasional creak of floorboards as you wandered the halls. You found Bucky sitting alone in the kitchen. His was tense; you could tell by how his metal hand clenched into a fist as if he were holding something invisible but heavy. 

You hesitated at the doorway, unsure whether to intrude. But you didn’t want him to feel alone, not when you could at least offer warmth.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You didn’t go out either, huh?”

Bucky glanced at you briefly, his blue eyes shadowed by something deeper than being tired. He didn’t respond; he just gave a quiet nod before turning his gaze back to the window. When he didn’t tell you to get lost, you took that as permission to sit beside him.

For a while, there was silence. Comfortable but heavy. 

You wanted to break it but didn’t want to push too hard before Bucky closed up again. Finally, after gathering your courage, you spoke, your voice as gentle as the night breeze.

“Bucky, um, you never talk about your past.”

Bucky tensed further, his jaw clenching tightly. You noticed how his breathing changed, becoming shallower as if the very mention of his past dragged him underwater.

“I just, I want to understand you better,” you added carefully, your voice barely a whisper. “Not what I hear from others. I want to know you.”

There was a sharp flicker of something in his eyes, maybe pain or even fear. He stood up with his back to you, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t,” he muttered, his voice low. “It’s not something someone like you should hear. You’re too good for that darkness.”

Your heart ached. 

He was trying to protect you from himself. 

You stood, stepping toward him, your hand reaching out. Your fingers brushed against his metal arm, and he stiffened, though he didn’t pull away.

“Bucky,” you whispered, barely above a breath. “But you’re not that person anymore. You’re our Bucky. You’re my Bucky.”

That was all it took. 

His head lowered, his eyes closing as if to shut out the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. He tried to say something but stopped, his throat tight.

“I don’t…” His voice broke, and he took a step back, needing space. He literally had to walk away before he started crying because you, his sunshine, had said it with such genuineness, with such unwavering faith in him, that it shattered the walls he’d spent years building.

You didn’t follow him. You knew Bucky well enough by now to understand that he needed time. But it didn’t stop you from calling after him, your voice like a balm to his wounds. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

An hour later, he found you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket around your shoulders. You were lost in thought, and when you noticed him standing there, you offered a small, sweet smile.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said softly. “I just care about you.”

Bucky sat down beside you. His expression was guarded, but the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt. It didn’t make sense how someone like you, all warmth and light, could look at someone like him and see something worth loving.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I don’t want to lose this. You. I don’t deserve this.”

You reached out, your hand slipping into his, fingers threading through his calloused ones. “You’re not going to lose me, Bucky. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’ll be a pest till the day I die.”

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. For the first time in what felt like forever, he believed it might be true, that maybe he wasn’t beyond saving. 

In that quiet moment, with your hand in his and the weight of his past still heavy but not so suffocating, Bucky felt something stir inside him.

Hope.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at your hand in his as if trying to memorize the way your smaller fingers fit perfectly between his. You gave his hand a little squeeze, encouraging him, grounding him. 

Slowly, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shifted closer to you until your shoulders brushed.

Then, without warning, he pulled you into a bear hug. His arms wrapped around you tightly, lifting you off the couch with ease. 

You let out a surprised squeal, then burst into laughter, your warm giggles filling the room like music. “Bucky!” you laughed, squirming in his grip, but not making any real effort to escape. “Put me down, you big grump!”

“Nope,” he muttered, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You earned this, sunshine. Gotta make sure you don’t float away with all that sweetness.”

You laughed harder at his dorky joke, and Bucky felt something loosen inside him. Holding you like this, hearing your laughter, made him feel lighter in a way he didn’t fully understand yet.

Eventually, he sat back down with you still in his arms, refusing to let go. You shifted until you were comfortably nestled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, a calming rhythm that made you smile.

“You know,” you murmured, “for someone who pretends to be all grumpy and scary, you’re actually a giant teddy bear.”

Bucky snorted. “Don’t spread that around. I’ve got a reputation to maintain, sunshine.”

You grinned up at him, mischief dancing in your eyes. “Oh, you mean the reputation where you glare at everyone and grunt like a caveman?”

“Exactly,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched. “I’ve worked hard on that, kid.”

You poked him in the chest. “I’m not a kid! I’m 22! An adult, thank you very much.”

“Sure, kid,” he said, smirking now. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You pouted, which only made his smirk widen. He loved teasing you, loved the way you’d get all huffy and indignant, but never really mad. One of his favorite things about you was your ability to turn his grumpiness into something lighthearted.

“You’re a meanie,” you muttered, crossing your arms but leaning further into his warmth. He noticed and gently squeezed you, his metal fingers brushing against your side with surprising tenderness.

“Yeah, well,” he said quietly, his tone shifting to something softer, more sincere. “You’re not so bad yourself. Annoying, sure. But good.”

The words caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, but the pink creeping up his neck told you everything. Bucky Barnes, the former Winter Soldier, your grumpy protector, was embarrassed.

A soft smile spread across your face. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grumbled, still refusing to look at you. “Seriously. Don’t.”

There was a peaceful silence between you both before he asked about your day.

"Steve and Sam tried to teach me how to throw a shield today," you said, laughing at the memory. "I think I’m better off with a frisbee than that thing. I nearly took out a window when I threw it, and you should’ve seen their faces. I thought for sure they were going to cry." You chuckled again, shaking your head as you continued. "Then, Tony called me kiddo for the tenth time today. Like, does he even know my name anymore?"

Bucky couldn't help but smile at that, even if he didn't say anything. He was content to listen, his usual grumpy exterior slipping away with each little story you shared.

"Oh, and Clint swears he didn’t hide my favorite mug, but I know he did. I’ll bet anything he’s got it stashed somewhere just to mess with me." You sighed dramatically, leaning back against him, and Bucky could feel the warmth of your body settle into his.

He didn’t respond, not really needing to. There was something soothing about the sound of your voice, something soothing about you.

You made it so easy just to exist in the moment with no expectations or judgments. And for Bucky, that was everything.

Your voice continued, but the words blurred together as you rambled on. He wasn’t listening anymore; he was too focused on how your presence steadied him. A quiet, almost fond smirk tugged at his lips as he listened to your endless chatter. He didn’t mind it. If anything, he found himself savoring it. This was normal. This was simple. You were simple in the best way possible.

As you spoke, your words slowed, drifting into quieter murmurs, and your breath steadied as sleep took over. One moment, you were telling him about a joke you shared with Wanda earlier that day, and the next, you were asleep, your body sinking into him completely. Your head had slipped against the crook of his neck. You looked so peaceful, and he didn’t have the heart to wake you.

Bucky froze for a moment, unsure what to do. You were so relaxed, so completely at ease in his arms. He could feel your breath against his skin and hesitated for the first time in a long while. 

He muttered, his voice soft with a trace of disbelief. "Great. Now what, sunshine?" But there was no real annoyance there. Just a quiet acknowledgment that you’d stolen his peace in the best way possible.

Most nights, he would sleep on the floor, his back against something hard or leaning against the wall to keep his thoughts from overwhelming him. Touch was a foreign thing for him. But here you were, curled up against him like he was some sort of human teddy bear, and somehow, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt okay—more than okay.

He carefully adjusted his position. He let out a quiet sigh, his head resting against the couch. Every instinct told him he should move, that he wouldn’t be able to sleep like this, but when he glanced down and saw the soft smile on your face even in sleep, something inside him softened.

He stayed perfectly still, letting the warmth of your body and the steady rhythm of your breathing lull him into something he rarely felt: calm. His eyes drifted shut, and for once, the memories didn’t come. There were no flashes of his past or haunting images of who he used to be. Just you, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night, jolting up in a cold sweat or reaching for a weapon. 

He simply slept, wrapped in warmth, feeling something close to peace.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

If you'd like to be added to my taglist

Much love x

- Maeve

[sofiatarot]

💌: A letter from Aphrodite

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1//2

3//4

Take a deep breath and allow yourself to choose the painting that resonates with you the most. When you do, you’ll find yourself receiving a heartfelt letter from Aphrodite💖

Group 1:

My dearest,

You stand at the crossroads of dreams and reality, lost between illusions and the truths your heart longs to embrace. I see the weight of hesitation in your soul, the doubts that whisper sweet temptations yet leave you restless. Do not fear the unknown, for love is a path walked by the bold, not the uncertain. You guard your heart as though it were a fortress, yet love does not seek to conquer, only to be let in.

Let go of the past, for it holds no promise of the future. What was once golden now dims in the light of what may come. Open your heart, not just to the idea of love but to its raw, unpredictable nature. Someone moves toward you, offering tenderness, but even the sweetest promise can turn sour if you remain chained to memories that no longer serve you.

Love is a force of nature, an unrelenting tide that washes away fear if you allow it. Have courage, my dear, for life is fleeting, and love—true, unguarded love—is the most beautiful experience of all. Trust in yourself, and in the rhythm of your own heart. Do not be afraid to dream, but more importantly, do not be afraid to act on those dreams. The universe conspires in favor of those who dare to believe in love.

You've been navigating a challenging path, caught in moments of hesitation, and I can sense the depth of your longing for something genuine. It's okay to acknowledge those feelings; there's absolutely no shame in being vulnerable or hoping for a deeper connection. Embrace what speaks to your heart, for love is patient and waits for those who are ready to take a step forward. You're not alone in this journey, and it's perfectly alright to reach for what you truly desire.

With all my grace,

Aphrodite.

Group 2:

My beloved,

Your soul is weary, burdened by trials that seem endless. Love, too, has felt like an uphill battle, a weight upon your shoulders rather than a balm for your heart. But even in darkness, the sun waits to rise. The storms of yesterday do not dictate the joys of tomorrow. The pain you have known does not mean you are unworthy of something pure, something bright.

You have been strong for so long, guarding your heart with sharp edges and cold reason. But love does not flourish in the realm of control—it dances in freedom, in passion, in surrender. Allow yourself to hope again, to believe that joy is not an illusion. A choice is before you: to remain in the familiar suffering or to step toward the light of possibility. Choose love, my dear. It has always chosen you.

I see the burdens you carry, the doubts that creep into your mind when you dare to wish for something more. But listen to me now—love is not always easy, nor is it without risk. Yet, it is always worth it. Let the fire of your soul burn away hesitation and welcome the warmth of love, of connection, of something greater than solitude. You are not meant to walk alone.

Let your heart soften, let your mind clear, and embrace the love that seeks you. You are more than your hardships, more than your past wounds. The light within you is strong enough to guide you through the darkest night.

With warmth eternal,

Aphrodite.

Group 3:

My cherished one,

You are a fire that flickers between restraint and wild abandon, caught between revelry and responsibility. Your heart longs for adventure, for passion, for something that makes you feel alive. And yet, a part of you clings to what is safe, what is known. But love, true love, does not thrive in the confines of hesitation.

Do not fear the unknown, for within it lies the freedom you seek. Be wary, though, of chasing fleeting pleasures at the cost of something deeper, something lasting. You are meant for more than momentary sparks—you are meant for an inferno that burns through the ages. There is a choice before you: to grasp at illusions or to claim something real. Choose wisely, for love does not wait for the uncertain.

I know the world tempts you with distractions, with indulgences that seem fulfilling in the moment but leave you yearning for something greater. What you seek is not just passion—it is meaning. Do not settle for surface emotions when your heart is capable of depths unknown. Be brave enough to dive deep, to explore what love can truly be when it is given the chance to flourish.

You have danced at the edge of true connection, always retreating before the moment takes hold. But love is not meant to be feared. It is a force that will carry you if you allow it. Embrace it, and let it transform you.

With all the passion of the gods,

Aphrodite.

Group 4:

My wounded star,

You have known disappointment, the sting of betrayal, and the emptiness of unfulfilled desires. Your heart, once open and radiant, now hides behind walls built from sorrow. You search for meaning, for love that does not falter, yet fear has woven itself into the fabric of your soul. But love, my dear, is not meant to be feared—it is meant to be lived, felt, embraced in all its chaos and wonder.

Do not let past wounds define your future. The path ahead may seem barren, but it is not. There is warmth waiting to embrace you and passion that longs to reignite your spirit. However, you must take the first step. Do not dwell on the past, for it holds only memories of what once was. Look forward to the love that is meant for you. You are more than your scars; you are divine.

I see the loneliness you do not speak of, the wishes left unspoken, the dreams you have convinced yourself are too far out of reach. They are not. Love is not reserved for those untouched by pain. It belongs to the wounded, the dreamers, the ones who dare to hope despite the darkness they have faced. Let yourself believe again, even if it is just a whisper at first.

There is a love that is meant for you, one that will not waver in the face of hardship. But you must believe in it, reach for it, and let it find you. You are not forgotten. You are not lost. You are loved.

With endless devotion,

Aphrodite.

-xoxo💌✨️

[everrinsly]

a momager and her silly olympic team vibes.

fake injuries with the bois. fluff. fem!reader. | not proofread.

more olympic team shenanigans here! | part 1

more reads!

~~~~~

It didn’t take long for the boys to get annoyed—

"That bastard actually got coddled...like a fuckin' baby!"

"And he was smug as fuck about it too. Like did you see his face?!"

"So he thinks he could flirt after Brazil, huh?"

"Nah, the question is how'd he learn to flirt in Brazil?"

"Wait, Suna, didn't you post a video to Insta?"

"Yeah, it got like 3.8 million views, still going. The shrimp's famous."

"No, wait, how—I thought you captured the most unflattering angle of him?!"

"I did. Fans said he looked hot."

"BRO—"

‌—because one hit to the face and Hinata was getting iced, lap-cuddled, and spoon-fed frozen chocolate ice-cream not by just any manager, but you. You. YOU. The one who have known them since Nationals back in high school. All sweet and soft and so kind—like how could they not want to be doted on by you. With your gentle hands brushing back his hair back and your 'you can have three popsicles instead of two' energy, the rest of the team suddenly became very aware of their own "injuries" (cough cough).

And Hinata? The one you called 'your sunshine'? Yeah, he was totally taking advantage of you, and you didn't even know it. Because you adored him in all his Hinata ways.

All you noticed was Hinata glowing, cheek iced and feet propped on a towel roll like a prince on the bench.

"You look better today, Sunshine," you murmured, brushing a few stands of his hair back.

"I am, thanks to you," he said softly, grabbing your free palm and nuzzling his cheek against it.

Your heart fluttered. His eyes were hooded, looking at you like you were the sun. Like his sunshine. A small smirk playing on his lips (smug as fuck, Bokuto was right).

Your hand freed itself from carding through his hair to press against his forehead. "Mm...did the doctor give you drugs? You seem...different."

He suddenly leaned forward, as best he can, and wrapped his arms around you. His nose in your hair. Your face pressed against his biceps. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

"I'm trying to flirt with you, sweets."

Oh. OH—

(Brazil treated him well).

You unconsciously buried your face in his chest, all flustered and shy. Squeezed his biceps one last time before pulling away to let out a soft giggle.

"How about...less flirting...and more of...letting me apply your soothing balm?"

He pouted, but it was quickly replaced by a knowing grin. "Okay, as long as it's always gonna be you who applies them."

"Always."

So there you were, mid-way through applying the balm on Hinata's bruise—

“Ow.”

You looked up.

Suna was limping across the court like a wounded soldier.

“I think I twisted my ankle,” he said, voice completely flat but somehow convincing. “Definitely need medical attention. And...emotional support.”

You gave him a suspicious look. “Weren't you standing there for the last ten minutes?"

“Exactly. Deadly position. Bad for circulation.”

Before you could respond—

THUMP.

Bokuto dramatically fell backwards onto a mat. “I LANDED WRONG.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even look up from taping a new roll on his fingers. “You tripped on your own shoelace.”

“It was a bad fall, Iwa!” Bokuto whined. “I’m probably emotionally concussed.”

Atsumu swaggered over, holding his arm like it was broken. “I can’t set like this. Might need you to, y’know, gently wrap it. Maybe kiss it better?”

You threw a cold pack at him. “You’re not getting a popsicle, Atsumu.”

“But HINATA got—”

“I was HIT IN THE FACE—” Hinata yelled from the bench besides you, popsicle stick in hand, like a prize.

You cut him off. "Sho—when did you grab another popsicle? I said only three."

He grinned. "When I was hugging you...ice box was behind you."

"HINATA SHOYOU—"

"I know. I'm sorry—I'm sorry, baby."

"BABY—don't fuckin' call her baby!" Atsumu yelled, glaring at Hinata.

You sighed, wanting to laugh at the chaos. Reminds you of high school.

But then, not to be outdone, Kageyama walked up with a deadly serious expression.

“I have a…neck cramp.”

And you blinked. “A neck cramp?”

He nodded solemnly. “It needs…rubbing.”

Iwaizumi, now fuming, snapped, “You want me to bring a massage table for your fake cramp, Kageyama?!”

Komori giggled from the side, taping his fingers like this was the best show on earth. “Ten bucks says Ushijima goes next.”

Right on cue, Ushijima raised his hand. “I have a sore muscle.”

You sighed, exasperated. “Where?”

“…In my soul.”

You paused.

“…That doesn’t even—y’know what? No. No more injured babies. Line up, I’ll evaluate all of you.”

Eight fully grown, elite Olympic athletes formed a line like kids at a daycare.

Sakusa stayed behind, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. “You’re all pathetic.”

You turned to him, a small smile on your lips. “Not gonna fake anything to get pampered too, Kiyoomi?”

He met your gaze. Calm. Cool.

“…I don’t need to fake anything.”

Then he held up his hand. A tiny red mark on his knuckle.

“Paper cut.”

Komori fell off the bench laughing.

Iwaizumi groaned into his hands.

And you stared at the entire team, your bag of ice packs dangling from one hand like a mom holding a flip-flop. “You guys are the most dramatic group of grown men I’ve ever met.”

“Your fault for being too nice,” Suna murmured, settling into the bench beside you with a victorious little smirk. He leaned his head against yours.

Atsumu peeked over your shoulder. “So…hypothetically…if I got hit in the face now, do I also get three popsicles?”

You tossed a towel over his head.

[redcherrykook]

✰ 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦.

✰ 1 / 02 / 03 / series m list.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

tags: bestfriendsboyfriend!jungkook, boxer!jungkook, cheater!jungkook (not on oc) , making out, grinding, mini tit play, oc is a piece of shit, sneaking around

note from cherry: shameless one is here!! debuting a morally grey (fucked up) lil three shot. yay!! Lmk what u think >_<

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The grey, cloudy storm outside knocks on your window rather gently, brushes against the glass with it´s windy strokes as if asking to be let in rather than commanding you to. But you knew Jungkook wasn´t really asking.

"Hey doll" the sleezy smile spreads across his features quickly, his scratched up, tattooed hand wraps around the window seal while he kicks his legs over, invites the rain in briefly. The sliding window shuts closed behind him- shakes off the wetness from his leather jacket, runs a hand through his damp mullet.

"You look beat up, what happend?" he hums briefly, letting your exposed arms sneak around his neck while he find the familiar spot on your waist- he shouldn´t know that that´s where you like to be held. Does nonetheless, rubs his rough palms under the flimsy material of your cami.

"Street fight, coach said i shouldn´t but the bastard was asking for it" he lowly murmurs against your lips, unable to resist their proximity anytime he crosses boundaries again. Instinctively leaning down to meet you, splatter ink on to your skin that you would have to spend hours scrubbing off of every patch on your body he´d touch- everywhere, only to still linger around with his cologne.

He brushes his busted lip against your own plump, soft ones- vanilla, your usual lip balm that´s kept on at all times. Even on mundane days where the thrill of his presence lies low.

"Want me to patch you up?" your words fan against his small wound, breathe the hot air, thus the life, back into him like you always do. Like you´ve grown to do in the reflection of broken vows and in corners you should not be lurking in.

"Hmm, missed you" Jungkook grins, feeling your own smile creep up into your lips, invading that slight scowl you worse tentatively. Outside becomes louder, drags the trees against your window now, but you can´t hear it, not against your heart pounding in your eardrums, not when you try to ignore the guilt that bubbles up every time his lips hungrily meet yours. Clash, collide, collapse.

You moan at the wet sensation of his mouth trailing down your neck, he blindly finds your sweet spot and you let out his favorite sigh, tangle your fingertips into his midnight hair and tug on it near his roots. He matches the sound, groans and embeds himself deeper into your delicate skin.

You smell like his favorite too, cotton, a hint of lavender. He had always despised strong floral scents, especially artificial ones. They make his head hurt and his nose burn, he´d say.

Your breeze of lavender kisses his senses as much as it devours him whole. He indulges in it, drinks every drop, tongue darting along your skin to feel it rise, feel how you shiver through his open mouthed, hot kisses.

"Come on, let me clean you up baby" you speak through breathy moans, gliding your finger along his jaw, he whines; then chuckles "Fine"

"This is so unnecessary doll" his teeth chew down on his pillowed bottom lip, oozing out more red liquid - you wipe it again, scoffing "Well stop getting into street fights. Turn left" you nudge his chin, inspecting the dirty scratch on his cheek- shake your head as you bring the disinfectant to the cut up skin. Jungkook tries his best not to wince at the sting, but you see right through him, his eyes scrunch up briefly "Such a baby"

"You just need an excuse to sit on my lap don´t you?" the flat tip of his nose nudges yours, pokes little holes into your annoyed facade, he throws your other thigh over his hip aswell- planting you to straddle his larger frame. You proudly nod, shimmy his leather jacket off his shoulders and let him find his rightful place around your waist again. He massages the flesh carefully, taking his silver lip ring between his teeth while you apply the last little bandaid just above his eyebrow piercing.

The storm roars now, banging against your windows, breaking through to be acknowledged. But you´re oblivious. Focused on the routine like feel of Jungkook´s hands sliding up your cami to cup your breasts, he gropes the soft swells, brings his head forward to tug down the lace with his mouth, "So cute" he mumbles, runs his tongue flat over your hardened pebble. The neglected, bruised knuckles of his caress you with airy adoration that don´t seem to match their broken exterior, bled through, vulnerable. Contrary, they´re feather light, guarded. Almost, as if he´s still afraid to go too far. His cock strains at the memory of being nestled inside of your cunt.

"Kook.. she´ll be here soon you know" the sentence floods his mouth, invading your sweetness with bitter aftertastes- he´s aware that he can´t fully enjoy you without it stringing along, but he likes to pretend in these moments, that it´s just the taste of sweat, part of your giving body that he claims with vile breaths. Inhales, swallows.

Your airy noises of enjoyment deafen him, edge his tongue to swipe across the skin of your chest and make his palms itch to grind you against his clothed cock, run your throbbing, wet core over he bulge to create electricity throughout his system, strain his throat with gutteral groans only a equally hungry man would understand.

"Just a little, missed you all week" it echos through your made empty head, fills up your every cell with lust for something in your possession, inside of a grasp you dug your claws in, fitting in holes that aren´t yours- molds you never made, though you seem to fill them out better than their originator. You sneak your way down his body, work to zip open his heavy jeans while he´s long gone in pulling down your little sweatpants- sighs at the view of pink undies covering your pussy.

"Did you know i was coming?" he jokes, engulfs your hips into his hold and stutters out a curse at collision, "No, but I was hoping"

Every ragged, filthy drag of your panty clad core to his messily pulled out, thick cock feels like a hit of gratification, he glistens with the cover of your sins and swells at the fat tip every time you rub your needy clit against it, digs deeper into you.

His solid muscles flex under the touch of your eager hands, it burns on the surface of his skin and Jungkook wastes a thought on wishing it wouldn´t show when he faced the mirror later. Invisibly ruined by your fingerprints, committed to his pleasure once his hand wraps around his cock in solitude- even when he tries to wash off your remains, the chamber of his mind found it´s way back. In horror, his heart always pumped his blood in the route to where you tainted him.

"M´close" you whisper ravishing his jaw with your dainty kisses that don´t mirror an ounce of the true need coursing through you, you weren´t allowed to bruise his skin more than you had already done so in the secrecy of your affair, a single visible mark and it would be over. It can however, not be over, not yet, or so he thinks even when his milky cum splurts on his stomach, paints the sensitive flesh of your cunt as you lazily drag over it. Let out little whimpers that make his chest clench with ownership.

The fever dies out into a candle, he smiles, presses a kiss to your nose "We should be quick baby"

Fast enough to make it seem natural when he just undoes his no longer wet jacket at the front door while it rings expectedly,

"Hey- oh baby, you´re here already?" she chimes, turns the corners of her lips up in excitement

You watch as your best friend leans in, kisses his cheek on the side he´s been patched up on, "Yeah, came here just now, had to get fixed up first"

"What happend?" you hold back the answer that prudes the tip of your tongue, glance at his loose hold on her hips and briefly allow yourself to proudly smile, just before you recoil in shame.

"Street fight, all good"

The rain trickles down her wet hair, pools down at the floor but calms down significantly on the other side of your four walls, sings against the heavy curtains, asks you to forget.

"You smell so good" Jungkook tells her, letting the words intoxicate her innocent head with lovesickness, but his eyes dull with boredom even when she beams, he´s good at lying you´ve learned- even burries his nose into her hair.

"Thank you babe. Gucci flora, got it just the other day"

It takes a bit not to chuckle, stepping behind her back to carefully send him a knowing smile before you turn around- walk back up to your room and leave the lovers in their confined, rightful space.

[sebmindbreak]

Hiii! Second time that I am requesting something from you, but if I can… Could I request for;

Azuretime x reader smut?

I’d like it if it was related to soft smut, considering how, most of us readers, would probably have tears in our eyes from what is happening…

So soft smut with azuretime x reader…? 🙏

Of course if you can’t and won’t do two characters x reader, then you can choose one of them x reader soft smut! No pressure there! 🫶

Please do remember to drink and eat well! Take breaks whenever you want, and need them! We all love your writing! 🫶

— A certified hibernating bear. 🐻💤

HEHEHEHE

SO FIRST OF ALL

REQUESTS ARE DONE!

DATE OPENED ! : 27/05

DO NOT FORGET TO SEE MY PINNED POST FIRST!!

COME REQUESTS IF YOU CAN!! <33

ANYWAYS HEHEH SOFT SMUT MY BELOVED

TITLE : your touch after dark

Your body ached, every muscle screaming from the abuse it had taken today.

The wounds from your altercation with 1x1x1x1 throbbed in time with your racing heartbeat, a cruel reminder of the day's horrors.

But the pain paled in comparison to the emotional turmoil churning inside of you, the sheer exhaustion and despair that threatened to drown you.

You had stumbled into the hideout on autopilot, your mind numb and your limbs heavy with fatigue.

The last thing you remembered before collapsing onto the bed was the sight of Azure and Two Time tending to the nightshade plant the three of you had nurtured.

It seemed so trivial now, so insignificant in the face of the day's atrocities.

As you lay there, your chest heaving with sobs, Azure and Two Time were by your side in an instant.

Azure's cool hand on your burning cheek, Two Time's strong arm around your shaking shoulders their presence was a comforting balm to your battered soul.

"Shh, it's okay," Azure cooed softly, their voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "You're safe now. You're with us."

Two Time tightened their grip around you, their voice a low rumble against your ear. "Tell us what happened, love. Let it all out."

The words tumbled out of you in a flood, a jumbled mess of pain and anguish.

You told them of the brutal beating you had taken, of the coolkidd's throwned bricks, and the sheer misery that had consumed you.

You poured out your heart, your tears soaking the pillow beneath you.

Two Time listened intently, their brow furrowed in concern.

When you had finished, they pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, their voice low and soothing. "I think a massage would do you good right about now," they murmured. "Just relax and let us take care of it, alright?"

Azure's hands were already working at the fastenings of your clothes, their fingers deft and careful as they peeled away the layers of fabric.

Each brush of their skin against yours sent a shiver through you, a spark of pleasure amidst the all-encompassing pain.

You felt Two Time move away for a moment, the sound of a drawer opening and closing, a bottle being uncapped.

Then they were back, the smooth glide of lot ,their hands worked in tandem, Azure's lips trailing soft kisses along your neck and shoulders as Two Time's fingers sank into the tense muscles of your back.

The cool lotion they had applied began to warm your skin, the scent of lavender and chamomile filling the air as Two Time's hands kneaded and stroked.

You couldn't help but moan softly, your body melting under their tender ministrations.

Azure's kisses turned more insistent, their teeth grazing your collarbone before their mouth found yours in a deep, sensual kiss.

You kissed them back with equal fervor, pouring all of your pent-up emotions into the embrace.

As Two Time's hands slid lower, their fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your pants, you gasped into Azure's mouth.

Two Time's touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure racing through your veins as their fingertips brushed against your most intimate places.

Azure seemed to sense your growing arousal, their kisses turning more heated, more demanding.

They rolled their hips against yours, letting you feel their own excitement building , Two Time's hand cupped your ass, their fingers teasing along your crack, brushing maddeningly close to your hole.

You were lost in a haze of sensation, your body singing with pleasure for the first time all day. Azure's lips trailed down your chest, their tongue flicking out to circle a nipple before drawing it into their mouth.

All the while, Two Time's fingers crept lower, one digit circling your fluttering rim before slowly, teasingly pushing inside.

Your moans grew louder, more wanton, as Two Time began to massage your inner walls.

Azure's hand slid down your stomach, their fingers gently rubbing your stomach , the thrusts of Two Time's fingers. You were drowning in a sea of pleasure, your body trembling with need.

Azure captured your mouth again, swallowing your cries of ecstasy as Two Time added a second finger, then a third.

They pumped in and out of you, curling and scissoring, stroking that special spot inside that made your vision go white.

You could feel your release building, your balls drawing up tight as the pleasure mounted.

Azure and Two Time seemed to sense your impending climax, their touches turning more urgent, more insistent , Azure's lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss asYour body tensed, every muscle pulling taut as your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave.

You cried out, your voice raw and ragged as you came undone in Azure's and Two Time's arms.

Azure and Two Time held you close, their arms wrapped around you like a safe haven as you shuddered and gasped through the aftershocks.

Soft kisses rained down upon your face, your neck, your shoulders gentle touches that soothed your raw, over-sensitive skin.

As the last waves of your release faded, you collapsed back against the bed, tired as hell.

Azure and Two Time cuddled around you, their bodies molding to yours in a perfect, comforting fit ,you could feel their heartbeats, slow and steady, a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a sense of calm.

The three of you lay entwined, your limbs tangled together as you caught your breath. Soft, breathless giggles escaped your lips, a stark contrast to the anguished sobs from before.

Azure and Two Time joined in, their laughter warm and melodic, filling the room with a sense of joy and contentment.

In that moment, cocooned in the love and affection of your two partners, you felt a sense of peace wash over you.

The horrors of the day receded, replaced by the warmth of Azure's body pressed against your back and Two Time's chest against your front. You were safe, you were loved, and for now, that was enough.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of deep peace settling over you. You knew you would have to face the realities of tomorrow eventually, but for tonight, you had Azure and Two Time.

Tonight, you could let go, could rest and heal in the comfort of their embrace.

[hadesoftheladies]

do you think men that loved us would tolerate a world like this? could bear keeping silent? wouldn't weep and scream at the suffering of his sisters, daughter, mother, lover? we have always lived among cowards and whispered apologies will not balm our mutilated hearts. they see us coming in from battle and don't know how to clean or bind the gaping wound--they won't even offer us a place to sit, just say "that looked like it hurt" if they say anything at all. i have no use for men less intimidating than scarecrows and twice as still. i have no use for a love without teeth nor will i commit my life to digging for it in a man whose heart is mundane--untouched by higher virtues or real human pathos. the point of a family unit is to help the animal survive. i have little family among men because men fight for nothing but themselves and stand for nothing but their dicks.

[sadnymi]

「 ✦ Euphoria. ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle x Inexperienced!reader]

Request: can you perhaps do an inexperienced reader x mattheo with like thigh riding and dry humping .

Words: 2.400

Warning: thighs riding, dry humping, f(orgasm), fluff ,smut .

Sat alone at the top of the Astronomy Tower, hidden away from prying eyes, consumed by the weight of my emotions. Tears streamed down my cheeks uncontrollably, my sobs echoing off the stone walls as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me.

Suddenly, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, I looked up to see Mattheo, his concerned eyes searching mine. He pushed the strands of hair away from my face, brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

"What's wrong, my love?" he whispered, his voice soft and soothing. "Why are you crying like this Y/N?"

I hiccupped through my tears, unable to form words as the pain threatened to overwhelm me. But Mattheo pulled me into his arms, holding me close as he whispered sweet words of comfort and reassurance.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my wounded soul. "You can tell me anything, darling. I promise I'll fix it for you. I hate to see tears in those beautiful eyes."

His words melted away the walls around my heart, and I buried my face in his chest, letting myself be enveloped by his love and warmth. In that moment, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, as long as I had Mattheo by my side, everything would be okay.

“He called me a prude," I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion. "He said I ruined our date because I wouldn't let him touch me. He said so many hurtful things...".

Mattheo's expression softened with understanding as he listened attentively, his arms wrapped protectively around me. "I'm so sorry, my love," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

"You did nothing wrong. You have every right to set boundaries and expect respect and he’s going to pay for each tear that falls from your eyes."

His words washed over me like a soothing balm, calming the storm of doubts and insecurities raging within me. "I just wanted to feel wanted," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "To go on a date like the other girls..."

"You are wanted, more than you could ever know," he insisted, his gaze burning with intensity. "Not by just anyone, but by someone who sees your worth, your beauty, your intelligence, and your kindness. Someone who loves you for exactly who you are."

His words struck a chord deep within me, touching a part of my soul that I had thought long buried beneath layers of self-doubt. "But I'm a prude," I protested weakly, the label still echoing in my mind.

Mattheo's expression softened, his eyes filled with an emotion that sent a shiver down my spine. "You're not,"

"Baby, it's not like that," he reassured me, his voice gentle but firm. "You're not a prude. Those boys don't even deserve one tear from those beautiful eyes."

I gazed at him, my heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief at his heartfelt words. His unwavering belief in me, his unwavering love, it was overwhelming. And as I looked into his eyes, filled with an intensity that took my breath away.

"But I'm inexperienced," I admitted quietly, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

His response was immediate, his tone filled with unwavering confidence. "You're just waiting for the right person," he assured me, his gaze steady.

I met his eyes, searching for the courage to express the feelings that swirled within me. I longed to tell him in that moment that he was the only boy who mattered to me, that my heart beat for him alone. But the fear of rejection held me back. He was Mattheo, and I was just me. How could I dare to dream of being more than his best friend?

"But what if the right person never sees me? What if they never develop feelings for me?" I questioned, my voice betraying my uncertainty.

His response was gentle yet firm, his touch tender as he held my face in his hands. "Then you need to look more closely," he replied, his eyes flickering briefly to my lips before meeting mine once more.

As his breath caressed my face, his proximity sending a wave of anticipation coursing through me, I closed my eyes, unable to resist the magnetic pull drawing us together. I felt the gentle brush of his finger against my lower lip, a tender gesture that sent a shiver of excitement down my spine.

"Why are you wasting your time with those stupid boys, baby?" his voice was a soft murmur, laden with sincerity and affection. I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lost in the intensity of his gaze. He was so close, his presence enveloping me in warmth and reassurance.

And then, without hesitation, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that stole my breath away. His lips were soft, so achingly soft against mine, yet the kiss held a passion and longing that left me utterly breathless.

In that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. His lips moved against mine with a gentle urgency, as if he was pouring all his unspoken feelings into the kiss. It was my first kiss, but it felt like so much more – it felt like the culmination of every unspoken desire and every hidden longing we had ever shared.

I melted into his embrace, my hands finding their way to his shoulders as I surrendered myself completely to the intoxicating sweetness of his kiss. The world around us ceased to exist as we lost ourselves in each other, our hearts beating as one in a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss.

And as our lips finally parted, leaving us both breathless and flushed with desire

" you kissed me," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I searched his eyes for answers.

He smiled, a softness in his gaze that made my heart flutter. "It took me so long to, but I did," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and longing.

"Why did you kiss me?" I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Because I felt like I would have died if I didn't," he confessed, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through me.

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I dared to ask the question that had been lingering on my mind. "Do you... do you like me too?"

His response was immediate, his voice filled with a raw intensity that took my breath away. "Fuck, baby," he moaned, his words a desperate plea. "I'm in love with you. So deeply in love with you."

As he kissed me again, I melted into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against mine. But then I felt something beneath me, and I pulled back, concern etching my features.

"See, that's what you do to me," he murmured, his voice strained with desire.

I gasped, realizing the effect I was having on him. "It feels good," I admitted, my cheeks flushing with heat.

He smirked, his eyes darkening with lust. "What feels good, baby?" he teased, his hands roaming over my body.

"this... Mattheo, oh i this so good I want more ," I confessed, feeling a surge of arousal coursing through me.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his grip tightening on my thighs as I moved against him again.

But then, I felt a pang of worry. "I'm so sorry, Mattheo. Did I do something wrong? I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," I babbled, my nerves getting the best of me.

He hushed me gently, his touch soothing my frayed nerves. "Shhh, my sweet girl, you did nothing wrong. It's just... if you continue to do that, it might....." he trailed off, his words leaving me hanging in suspense.

I swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment wash over me. "Did you ever experience the feeling of orgasm before? I mean, with yourself," he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding.

I shook my head, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "No," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper.

But instead of judgment, I found only warmth and reassurance in his gaze. He smiled gently and kissed me again, his lips tender against mine.

"So that makes you feel good?" he asked, his voice soft with concern. As I nodded, he continued, "I'm going to give you more, but let's take it step by step, okay?"

I nodded eagerly, desperate for more of the pleasure he could offer. And as he trailed kisses along my neck, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine, I knew that I was in good hands.

As his hands trailed up my thighs, pushing my dress higher until my wet panties were exposed, I felt a surge of anticipation coursing through me. His touch was electric, igniting a fire deep within me that I couldn't extinguish.

With a gentle yet firm hand, he guided me to straddle his thigh, positioning me so that I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me. I gasped at the sensation, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through my body.

"You're so fucking sexy," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I love seeing you like this, all wet and ready for me."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his thigh against my throbbing core driving me wild with need. And as he began to move me against him, guiding my hips with his hands, I felt a wave of pleasure building deep within me.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice laced with approval. "That's it, ride my thigh just like that."

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he continued to move me against him. With each thrust of my hips, I felt the tension building, the pleasure mounting with every stroke.

His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth as he urged me to let go of my inhibitions. "Don't be afraid, baby," he murmured against my lips. "Just feel it."

But with each movement, I could feel my pussy throbbing against his hard thigh, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. And then, as if by instinct, I shifted my hips, seeking more contact, more friction.

Mattheo groaned in response, his grip tightening on my hips as I ground against him with reckless abandon. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with desire. "You feel so good against me."

And then, as the pleasure reached its peak, I felt something new, something I had never experienced before. It was a tightness in my stomach, a fluttering sensation that seemed to radiate throughout my entire body.

"What... what is this feeling?" I gasped, my voice filled with uncertainty as I struggled to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through me.

He kissed and sucked my neck gently, his lips sending shivers of pleasure down my spine. "Don't be afraid, my sweet girl," he whispered. "That's pleasure, and you deserve every bit of it."

I moaned in response, the sensation of his lips against my skin driving me wild with desire. With every movement, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

I moved my hips against his thigh, craving more of the friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. His grip tightened on my hips, his touch electric as he guided me in my movements.

I felt a new hunger stirring deep within me. I wanted more, I needed more, and I knew that he was the only one who could give it to me.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely a whisper. "I want more."

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with lust as he moved me against him, his own arousal pressing against me now. "You want more, baby?" he growled, his hands gripping my hips possessively. "Then let me give it to you."

With a wicked grin, he shifted me slightly, guiding me so that I could feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against my soaked panties. As he moved me against him, the friction sent bolts of pleasure shooting through me, and I couldn't help but moan in response.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Feel how hard you make me. Feel what you do to me."

I whimpered as he continued to move me against him, the pleasure mounting with every stroke. His lips found mine in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with mine as he urged me on.

"Ride me, baby," he growled, his voice filled with hunger. "Show me how much you want it."

With a desperate cry, I began to move against him, my hips rocking back and forth as I sought out the delicious friction he offered. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over me, building with every stroke until I was teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more.

He watched me with hungry eyes, his hands gripping my hips as he guided me in my movements. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "You're doing so well."

Encouraged by his praise, I moved faster, my body craving more of the pleasure he was giving me. With each thrust, I felt myself drawing closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity.

And then, with a cry of pure ecstasy, I felt it happen. My body convulsed with uncontrollable spasms as waves of pleasure crashed over me, and I screamed his name as I tumbled over the edge into oblivion.

He held me close as I trembled with the force of my release, his arms wrapped around me protectively. And as I lay there, spent and sated in his arms, I knew that I had never experienced anything like this before.

He kissed my forehead softly, his lips tender against my skin as he whispered, "You're amazing, baby. Absolutely amazing."

I looked up at him, my body still tingling from the incredible pleasure he had just given me. "Matt, can you make me feel that feeling again? Can you teach me more " I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes darkened with desire as he gazed down at me, his fingers trailing lightly along my neck. "Fuck, baby," he muttered, his voice husky with need. "The things I want to do to you, the things I'm gonna do to you...".

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[azrielsrealmate]

who cares about you?

azriel x reader

summary: azriel comes home after a long mission, injured and in search for the comfort of his mate arms.

warnings: nudity(? injuries

word count: 2.5k

english isnt my fist language ladies🥶 soo forgive any possible mistake. To this point I don’t know if I should do maybe a masterlist? 👀

Your heart skips a beat in anticipation, the weariness of the night instantly forgotten as you cross the room to open the door. But the moment you do, that spark of enthusiasm is extinguished, replaced by a deep concern that stabs into you like a dagger, twisting and squeezing your heart.

Azriel stands there, his dark figure outlined against the dimness of the hallway, but it’s his condition that makes the air catch in your lungs. His shadows are agitated, swirling around him with a restlessness that reflects the turmoil within him—they don’t come to greet you as they usually do, they don’t disappear. The blood, mostly dried but still visible, runs from a wound on his brow, trailing down his face to his chin. The smell of iron, mixed with his own scent, is unmistakable. Anxiety has scarred, large hands, and it squeezes your stomach.

“Azriel...” you whisper, the anguish clear in your voice.

But the instant his honeyed eyes meet yours, his expression shifts. The sharp edges soften so as not to cut you, the intensity of his gaze mitigated by something far more tender. With a gentleness that contrasts with his appearance, he brings his hand to your cheek and cups it, his thumb tracing a soft path along your skin.

You lean into his touch, and your eyes flutter closed for just a fraction of a second, your own hand landing on his, as if you could keep that gentle touch there forever. The warmth of his hand is a balm, but not enough to quell the worry growing inside you.

Azriel steps forward, and you remain where you are, and you don’t know how you survived two weeks without seeing him, when the closeness you now share feels like oxygen, you’d suffocate if he stepped away.

You see the conflict in his gaze as you tilt your head back to look at him, the self-loathing he has for worrying you this way. Then, without warning, he dips his head and presses a kiss to your forehead as he opens his side of your bond, which had been closed for those two weeks. The touch of his lips is so soft that you barely feel it, but the intent is clear.

He was fine. He was here. And he doesn’t push you away, he doesn’t shut you out.

But you can’t bear to see him like this, broken, hurt. Ignoring the knot forming in your throat, you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a desperate hug. His reaction is immediate: a gasp of pain escapes his lips.

You pull away instantly, your brow furrowing into a grimace of anguish. “I’m sorry,” you say, your voice breaking, your hands trembling as you lower them to your sides. But he doesn’t let you pull away any more than necessary, his hand still on your cheek, his gaze fixed on yours with an intensity that makes you tremble.

He sinks onto the edge of the bed, his body clearly exhausted, and you, without wasting a second, hurry to fetch a bucket of hot water and a cloth. The urgency to care for him, to heal each of his wounds, drives you beyond your own fatigue.

When you return to his side, cloth in hand, you prepare to clean the blood from his face, but Azriel, with that dexterity and strength that never seems to leave him, surprises you. Before you can react, he pulls you onto his lap, your thighs pressed against his hips.

“Azriel,” you protest softly, but there’s no real force in your words. Not when his gaze is so close, when his hands keep you in the only place where both of you can breathe easily.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your lips. “Let me hold you... just for a moment.”

And even though you know you should be focused on tending to his wounds, on making sure he’s not more hurt than he appears, you surrender to the warmth of his body for a second.

The warmth of Azriel’s body, wrapped around yours, feels like you’re finally fitting a missing piece into a puzzle. His hands grip your hips as if he fears you might pull away from him at any moment, and the thought seems ridiculous in your mind, all you want is to let him hold you. But the wound on his brow, the dried blood staining his face, pulls you back to reality.

You’re torn between staying like this, lost in the safety of his embrace, and the urgency to tend to his wounds. The weight of the worry is so intense you can barely stand it. You slide a hand along his cheek, brushing aside a loose strand of his dark hair, and refocus on the task at hand.

“Let me clean this,” you whisper, lifting the warm, damp cloth to his face.

Azriel watches you, his dark eyes shining with a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. But he doesn’t resist; he simply stays still as you gently clean the blood from his brow, revealing the small but deep wound beneath. Each movement is slow, careful, as if you fear any additional pressure could cause him more pain. Though even if you did, he wouldn’t react.

He gently massages your hips, his hands appreciating the curve, and his eyes drop to your neck, lingering there, clean skin with no marks, the irrefutable proof that he’s been away for a while, because you always bore some hidden hickey or bite marks on your neck. Azriel was possessive, and he didn’t hide it. You could almost swear that he’s holding himself back from burying his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder.

It’s in that moment, as you slide the cloth along his skin with the utmost delicacy, that you feel a tug in your left shoulder. It’s barely noticeable at first, so you ignore it, but as you continue, the pain becomes sharper, a twinge that makes you catch your breath. You try to ignore it again, focusing on Azriel, but he notices. Of course, he notices.

His brow furrows, and the concern deepens in his features. His grip on your hips tightens, pulling you closer to his body. Just slightly. “What’s wrong with your arm?” His voice is low, but there’s no hiding the insistence in it.

“It’s nothing important,” you try to say, attempting to sound convincing as you avert your gaze, turning your attention back to his wound. But Azriel isn’t someone who accepts evasions, and before you can continue, his hand catches yours, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t hide the truth from him. “Training was a bit tougher today,” you confess, trying to sound nonchalant, but the worry in his face forces you to go on. “Gwyn threw a bad punch, and… well, my shoulder has been hurting since then.”

The shadow of a tense muscle appears in his jaw, and you can see him struggling to stay calm. His eyes darken with a mix of guilt and anger, not toward you, but toward the situation. His hand slides from your hip to your left shoulder, with a touch so gentle it almost breaks you completely. It had taken you a long time to accept his gentle touches without bursting into tears.

“You should have told me earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper as his fingers caress the sore area. “You could have hurt yourself more.”

You almost let out a sarcastic comment. When it’s him training you, you end up even more sore.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” you choose to respond, your voice just as low, but he shakes his head before you can finish.

“I worry more if you don’t tell me.”

You fall silent, letting his words sink in, feeling the truth in them. But as the weight of his concern and the warmth of his touch envelop you, a spark of resistance ignites within you, a reminder that you’re not someone who simply stands by, even when it comes to him.

“Azriel…” you begin, but he interrupts you, his voice low but determined.

“Let me handle this,” he says, his gaze fixed on yours, and you can see the exhaustion behind his firmness, the lines of fatigue etched into his face. Yet, something in his tone, in the way he asks you to lean on him, provokes an unexpected reaction in you. It’s not just concern; it’s the guilt that seems to consume him, the need to do something, anything, to feel less powerless. It frustrates you, it’s not his duty to take care of you, especially not when you’re the one trying to take care of him.

“What if I don’t want to?” You respond softly, the challenge subtle but clear in your voice. Azriel blinks, the only sign of surprise he allows to show, but he doesn’t release his grip on your hips.

“Why should you carry everything? Why is it always you who has to protect me, who has to take care of everyone?” you continue, your words soft but laden with a weight you know he understands. He doesn’t just take care of you, he takes care of his entire family. And not just by protecting his Court—he’s always there for anyone who needs him. A solid rock you can lean on. “You worry so much about me, about everyone, but who worries about you, Azriel? Who takes care of you?”

The silence that follows is dense, heavy with unspoken emotions. Azriel lowers his gaze for a moment, his shadows fluttering restlessly around the two of you, around him, appearing from where they had hidden, only to disappear again. And you know, after long hours of studying their patterns, that his shadows are around him when they feel the need to protect him; they hide when he’s completely and utterly safe. When he lifts his head again, there’s something different in his eyes, something vulnerable that he rarely lets others see.

“I don’t know how,” he admits, turning his gaze away, his voice so low you almost don’t hear it.

It hurts to hear him say that, but it also fills you with a new determination, a need to show him that he’s not alone. Gently, you place your hand over his, the one still resting on your hip, and squeeze it firmly.

“Then we’ll learn together,” you say, and there’s a promise in those words, a promise that you won’t let him face this burden alone. “You don’t have to do everything yourself, Azriel. You don’t have to be the shield and the sword all the time. Sometimes… sometimes it’s enough just to be you.”

The silence returns, but this time it’s different. It’s a silence filled with understanding, with a tacit agreement that both of you have reached. Azriel nods slightly, accepting the truth you’ve laid before him, though it’s still hard for him to let go of that control he values so much.

With a sigh, he leans forward, his forehead touching yours, and in that contact, you feel the tension in his body ease just a little. “I need you,” he murmurs, the confession a barely audible whisper between you, but it hits you with the force of a gale. “I need you more than I can bear sometimes.”

The knot in your chest tightens, but instead of speaking, you decide to show him that you understand. Sliding your hands up to his neck, you bring his lips to yours in a soft kiss, but one loaded with all the emotions you don’t need to verbalize. Azriel responds with restrained urgency, as if that kiss were an anchor in the middle of a storm threatening to sweep him away.

When you finally pull apart, you stay there, looking at him, seeing the internal battle playing out in his eyes. Without saying another word, you move, sliding off his lap and pulling his hand to get him to stand with you. Although his brow furrows in confusion, he doesn’t resist.

You lead him to the bathroom, to the tub where the water is still warm. Without releasing his hand, you start undressing him, your fingers deftly undoing his clothes while his eyes remain fixed on you, a mix of surprise and something more shining in them. It’s not a gesture of desire, not now, but an act of care. Of showing him that he can let go, that it’s okay to trust you to be the one to take care of him for once.

Azriel doesn’t say anything, but he lets you proceed, his breathing uneven as you guide him into the tub, helping him into the water. Only then do you join him, carefully getting into the tub, sitting behind him, and pulling him toward you, his back against your chest, being mindful of his wings.

For a moment, both of you remain silent, the water enveloping you in a warm embrace, your hands gently caressing his arms as you feel his body finally begin to relax against yours. And then, in the safe haven you’ve created for him without even realizing it, Azriel lets all his barriers fall, resting his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes as a deep, almost relieved sigh escapes his lips.

“I’ve got you,” you murmur softly. “I’ve got you.”

[hisfavegirl]

Closure - Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

summary : Aemond was consumed by his anger and hatred, leaving you alone and lonely once again. You made a risky decision and put your life in danger.

It had been days since you locked yourself away in your chambers. The weight of grief, guilt, and exhaustion pressed down on you like a crushing wave. The once lively space around you now felt suffocatingly silent, broken only by the occasional knock from Alicent or the maids bringing in food you barely touched.

Aemond had yet to return. Each day you glanced at the door, hoping he would walk in, his presence a balm to your frayed nerves. But he never did. You tried not to think about it too much, but the ache of his absence settled deep in your chest.

Then came the news. Whispers of it echoed through the halls, carried on the hurried voices of servants and the low murmurs of guards.

One of the men responsible for Jaehaerys’s death had been captured.

He called himself “Blood.” The name alone made your heart clench with dread. Rumors spread like wildfire — Blood had confessed under interrogation. He claimed he and his partner, “Cheese,” had been hired by none other than Daemon Targaryen. Their orders were clear and cruel: Kill a child of the Greens as payment for the death of Lucerys Velaryon.

The words struck you like a physical blow. Your breath hitched, and your hand flew to your stomach, the phantom ache of your lost child flaring to life. Blood for blood. Son for son. It was justice in the eyes of Daemon, but for you, it was nothing more than horror and senseless cruelty.

Your mind spiraled. Did my mother know? Did she agree to this? The thought sent a sharp pang through your chest. Memories of your childhood with Rhaenyra flashed in your mind, of how she used to hold you close, call you her little flower. But that image clashed with the Rhaenyra who had sent assassins after children.

It didn’t matter that it was Daemon who ordered it. Daemon and Rhaenyra were one.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of anger, sorrow, and betrayal. You pressed a hand against your mouth, stifling the sob that threatened to escape. You thought of Helaena, of how she cradled her children every night, whispering soft lullabies to them. You thought of Jaehaera’s hollow, haunted eyes after witnessing her brother’s murder. You thought of Maelor, too small to understand but forever scarred.

A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. This time, it was not a servant. It was Alicent. Her voice was gentle but firm.

“Please, my dear. Let me in,” she said softly, but there was urgency beneath her calm tone. “We need to speak.”

You hesitated for a moment before slowly walking to the door. You unlocked it and stepped back. Alicent entered, her eyes filled with concern, her face weary from sleepless nights. She approached you carefully, like one might approach a wounded animal.

“They caught him,” you said before she could speak, your voice hollow. “He confessed. He said it was Daemon.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Yes. He did.”

Silence fell between you, heavy and suffocating. The weight of loss, of betrayal, of helplessness hung in the air like a storm cloud.

“Do you hate me?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking. “For being her daughter?”

Alicent’s eyes shot up, wide with shock. She stepped forward and cupped your face in her hands, her touch gentle but unyielding. “No,” she said firmly, her eyes searching yours with fierce determination. “You are not her. You are not her. Do you hear me?” Her thumbs brushed away your tears. “I see you for who you are. A kind, loving girl who has suffered far too much. None of this is your fault.”

Her words broke something in you. You crumpled into her arms, and she held you tight, like she had done so many times before. But this time, it felt different. This time, it felt like she wasn’t just holding you up — she was anchoring you to the world.

You remained for a moment, lost in the embrace of Alicent’s comforting presence, the weight of her words settling in your chest. She was a lifeline, a thread of reassurance in the storm that was your life. But before long, she gently pulled away, her face now etched with determination.

“I must go to the council,” she said, her voice soft but resolute. “There are decisions to be made, and I cannot delay any longer.”

You nodded in silence as she made her way to the door, her footsteps heavy with purpose. As the door closed softly behind her, you remained seated, your thoughts racing. The raw pain of everything you had lost, the children, the life you thought you would have — it all felt like too much. But you couldn’t stay in this room forever.

Rising from your bed, you walked toward your wardrobe, your feet feeling heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. Reaching into the cabinet, you pulled out the dark, soft hooded cloak that you had set aside earlier. The familiar weight of it comforted you, grounding you in a way that the endless grief could not.

You paused for a moment, staring at the cloak in your hands. The fabric was rich, a deep shade of black, embroidered with small patterns of silver threads that glimmered faintly in the dim light of the room.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. A moment of clarity broke through the fog of sorrow. You needed to find a way to move forward. To find your place in this world of treachery and shifting allegiances.

Tying the cloak securely around your shoulders, you made your way toward the door, your mind still heavy with questions. What would this council meeting bring? What would the repercussions be for your mother’s involvement in the death of your nephew?

With each step, your resolve solidified. You would not allow yourself to be a passive observer in this game of power. Whatever was to come, you would face it — head held high.

You moved cautiously through the halls, your footsteps light and calculated. The heavy weight of your heart still lingered, but you focused on your goal, trying to push aside the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you. Your hands gripped the edges of your cloak, tightening the fabric around your face, concealing yourself as best as you could.

You hoped the deep hood would mask your identity, that the shadows would keep you hidden. The last thing you needed right now was to be noticed. The corridors were mostly empty, the soft echoes of your footsteps the only sound that filled the space as you moved with swift determination.

Every corner you turned felt like a risk, but there was no turning back now. You had to get to the gates, to find a way to leave the Red Keep without anyone knowing. The weight of your own emotions mixed with the dangerous path you were now walking.

Soon, you reached the grand doors of the Red Keep’s outer walls, and you hesitated, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had followed you. The quietness of the moment made your heart race as you stepped toward the gates. You hoped the night would cover your tracks, that no one would question your sudden disappearance.

As you approached the gate, your nerves were at their peak, but you kept your head down and continued forward, trusting the shadows to protect you for just a little longer.

You moved through the dimly lit streets of King’s Landing, each step taking you further from the safety of the Red Keep and deeper into the unknown. The weight of your decision pressed heavily on your chest, but your resolve to reach Dragonstone and find your mother. The cold night air bit at your skin, but you ignored it, focusing on the path ahead.

The sounds of the bustling city faded as you neared the harbor, the scent of saltwater and the creak of ships in the distance filling the air. Your heart beat faster, the familiar feeling of uncertainty creeping in, but you pushed it aside. This was something you had to do, for yourself and for the future.

You approached one of the docked ships, a small vessel with a weathered crew. The captain, an older man with a hardened face, eyed you warily as you walked up. You didn’t hesitate, offering him the coins in your hand. “Take me to Dragonstone,” you said firmly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you.

He regarded you for a moment before nodding, accepting the payment. “Aye, that can be arranged,” he muttered. “But it’s not a short journey, and there’ll be no turning back once we’re out on the water.”

You nodded in agreement, your resolve unwavering. This was your only chance. As you boarded the ship and the crew prepared to set sail, you glanced one last time at the distant lights of King’s Landing, unsure of what awaited you, but certain that this was the right choice.

The ship began to pull away from the docks, and you could feel the weight of the journey ahead, but also a strange sense of freedom, as if, for the first time in a long while, you were in control of your own fate.

You stood at the edge of the ship, gazing out at the vast, endless sea before you. The gentle crash of the waves and the salty breeze brushed against your face, carrying with it a sense of bittersweet calm. For a moment, you closed your eyes and let the wind surround you, as if it could blow away the ache that still lingered in your heart.

Your hand slowly drifted to your abdomen, fingers lightly tracing the place where life had once grown within you. The pain of that loss was still fresh, sharp as the sting of cold sea air, and for a moment, it felt unbearable. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Was this punishment? Was this fate? The questions swirled in your mind, unanswered and unrelenting.

Your thoughts shifted to Aemond and Alicent. You could still see Aemond’s face the night he found you bleeding, the way his eyes had filled with something beyond grief—regret, guilt, and something deeper. You could hear Alicent’s voice as she cradled you, whispering words of comfort like a mother soothing her child. They had stayed by your side, and now you had left them with no warning, no explanation. Guilt gnawed at your heart like a slow, unyielding burn.

But your resolve was firm. You had made your choice. You had to see your mother. Why did she send them? you thought, gripping the edge of the ship tighter. Why did she send Blood and Cheese to slaughter children in revenge? You needed to hear it from her own lips. You needed to understand why this bloodshed had been necessary, why your brother’s death had to be repaid with such horror.

The wind howled softly as the ship rocked gently beneath your feet. Your eyes remained locked on the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a line as sharp and endless as fate itself. You didn’t know what you would find at Dragonstone. You didn’t know if you would be welcomed or cast aside. But you knew you couldn’t turn back now.

For better or worse, you were no longer just a pawn in this war. You had made a choice, and soon, you would face whatever waited for you on that distant, stormy shore.

Aemond’s boots thudded heavily against the stone floors as he marched through the corridors of the Red Keep, his breathing sharp and uneven. His hair was still tousled from the ride, his face lined with exhaustion, but his pace never slowed. The only thing on his mind was you.

He reached your shared chambers, pushing the door open with more force than necessary. His eye scanned the room quickly, searching for the familiar sight of you — sitting by the fire, resting on the bed, or perhaps simply standing by the window. But none of that greeted him. The room was empty.

His brows drew together, and he stepped inside, his gaze darting to every corner. “Love?” he called, his voice firm but laced with unease. Silence answered him. No warmth of your presence, no reply from your voice.

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. He strode to the side chamber, then to the dressing room. Nothing. You weren’t there. His breathing grew heavier, his movements faster. He checked behind the bed curtains, even glanced toward the window as if expecting to see you outside, but still, there was no sign of you.

“My love!” he called louder, his voice carrying a sharp edge of frustration. He stepped back into the hallway, his gaze darting left and right. His mind churned with possibilities. Did she go to see Alicent? Did she go to visit Helaena? But doubt crept in. You would have told him if you planned to leave. You always told him.

Aemond’s heart pounded faster as he moved with renewed urgency, his steps now echoing with force. His frustration turned to unease, and unease began to fester into dread. Servants flinched out of his way as he stormed down the corridor.

“You,” he barked at a passing maid. The girl froze, eyes wide with fear. “Have you seen her? Have you seen my wife?”

The girl shook her head frantically. “N-No, my prince. I… I saw her last night, but not since then.”

Aemond’s lips pressed into a hard, thin line. His gaze flickered with cold calculation. He didn’t waste another word on her and spun on his heel, continuing his search. He checked Helaena’s chambers, the sept, the library — each room more frustrating than the last. She was nowhere to be found.

His patience snapped when he returned to the Great Hall. His hand slammed against the table with a loud bang, making the maids jump in fear. His eye was wild now, his mind spiraling with dark thoughts. Did someone take her? Did she run away? No. No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave me. She wouldn’t leave.

Just then, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed from behind him. Alicent entered, her eyes weary from the hours spent in council meetings. She tilted her head in confusion at the sight of her son, disheveled and tense like a lion ready to strike.

“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice was steady but curious. “What’s the matter? Why are you in such a state?”

Aemond’s head snapped toward her, his face a mask of barely controlled panic and fury. “She’s gone,” he muttered, his voice low but dangerous. “She’s not in our chambers. She’s not anywhere.”

The words hit Alicent like a slap. Her eyes widened, her calm demeanor fracturing. “What do you mean she’s gone?” she asked sharply, stepping forward. “Did you check the gardens? The library? Perhaps she’s with Helaena and the children—”

“She’s not there,” Aemond cut her off, his voice louder now. His breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling with each sharp inhale. “I searched everywhere. She’s gone, Mother.”

Alicent’s eyes darted around, her mind racing as she processed his words. Her breathing quickened, panic seeping into her voice. “Did anyone see her leave? Did anyone see her go to the harbor or the gates?”

“I don’t know,” Aemond hissed, his frustration boiling over. He raked a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands as he paced. “If she left, someone would have seen her. Someone had to have seen her.” His words were more for himself than for his mother. He turned to one of the guards stationed nearby. “Find the captain of the gates. Find every guard who was posted today. Now.”

The guards exchanged nervous glances before bowing and running off to follow his orders.

Alicent moved closer to Aemond, placing a gentle hand on his arm. Her eyes were filled with concern, not just for you but for him. “We will find her, Aemond. She could not have gone far.”

But her reassurance did nothing to calm him. His breathing was still harsh, his eye darting back and forth like a trapped animal searching for an escape. His fingers flexed at his sides, hands itching for something to grip — a sword, a throat, anything to release the pressure building in his chest.

“She wouldn’t leave me,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper now, his eye fixed on the floor. “She wouldn’t.”

Alicent frowned. “Of course not, my son. She loves you.”

But Aemond wasn’t listening anymore. His mind was already moving ahead, calculating every possible reason for your absence. If someone took her, they would pay. If she left, she would be found. If she ran from me… His nails bit into his palms as his fists curled tightly.

“Mother,” he said slowly, lifting his head to look Alicent in the eyes. The weight of his gaze was heavy, filled with something more dangerous than panic — certainty. “If she left… I will bring her back myself.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat at the intensity in his voice. She knew that look. It was the same look she’d seen in him the night of the incident at Storm’s End. It was the look of a man who had already decided what he would do, no matter the cost.

After a long and exhausting journey, the ship finally reached the rocky shores of Dragonstone. The salty sea air filled your lungs as you stepped off the ship, your boots crunching against the rough stones of the beach. The crash of waves echoed behind you, but it was the sight ahead that captured your attention.

The guards were everywhere. Their sharp gazes followed your every movement as you pulled down your hood, revealing your face. Their eyes widened slightly in recognition, but none of them moved to stop you.

“I wish to see my mother,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the cold air like a blade.

One of the guards nodded, gesturing for you to follow. The path leading up to the fortress was steep, each step heavier than the last. Your heart thudded in your chest, a storm of emotions brewing within you — grief, anger, and something colder, something sharper.

As you reached the main courtyard, you saw them.

Her.

Him.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood at the top of the stone steps, her silver hair glinting like molten silver in the dim light. Her eyes locked onto you, wide with surprise and then something softer, something closer to relief. But she was not alone.

Daemon.

He stood beside her, his presence as commanding as ever. His gaze was piercing, his face unreadable as he watched you approach. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister, and his stance was one of ease — as if he had not a single regret in the world.

But you were no longer a child seeking safety. Not anymore.

Your steps quickened, your breath coming faster as anger surged in your chest. Your heart felt as if it would burst from the weight of it all. Your eyes fixed on Daemon, and before either of them could speak, you let your voice ring out like thunder.

“How could you?!” Your words echoed across the courtyard, and the guards turned to look. Your voice was raw, sharp with fury and pain. “How could you be so cruel, Daemon?! To kill Helaena’s children? To kill my child?”

Silence.

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her face frozen in shock. Her lips parted as if she wanted to speak, but no words came out. Her gaze shifted slowly to Daemon.

Daemon’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. He stood there, unmoving, his violet eyes fixed on you like a predator watching prey.

“What nonsense is this?” Daemon’s voice was calm, too calm, like the eerie stillness before a storm. He tilted his head slightly, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. “You come here throwing accusations, but you’ve yet to say anything that makes sense.”

“Don’t play innocent with me, Daemon!” you snapped, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Blood and Cheese. Does that sound familiar? Because it should. They said they were sent by you!” Your chest heaved with every breath as tears welled in your eyes. “They said it was revenge for Luke. But it wasn’t just Jaehaerys they took. They took my child too.” Your voice broke on the last word, raw and filled with pain.

Rhaenyra’s gaze darted to you, her face contorted with shock and confusion. “What child?” she asked, stepping toward you, her voice rising with urgency. “What are you talking about?”

But you didn’t look at her. Your eyes stayed locked on Daemon. “I was pregnant,” you hissed, your nails digging into your palms. “I was going to tell Grandsire that night before he died. But I never got the chance. I lost the baby because of them. Because of you.” Your eyes narrowed into slits, your voice filled with venom. “I hope you’re proud.”

For the first time, something flickered in Daemon’s eyes. It was not guilt. Not sorrow. But something sharper. Realization.

“That child was mine to protect,” you continued, stepping forward until you were mere feet away from him. “It was mine and Aemond’s. And you took it from us.”

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched. Her gaze darted back to Daemon, her eyes narrowing, her mouth pressed into a hard, thin line. “Daemon,” she said slowly, her voice trembling with a mixture of confusion and growing suspicion. “Is this true? Did you—”

“Enough.” Daemon’s voice cut through the air like the crack of a whip. His eyes snapped to Rhaenyra, his jaw set in a hard line. “Don’t look at me like that, Rhaenyra.” His gaze returned to you, colder now, sharp as broken glass. “I did what had to be done. Blood for blood.” He stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, like a shadow growing larger. “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” he asked quietly, his eyes narrowing. “I see a girl blinded by love. Do you know what Aemond sees? A pawn. A piece on the board to be moved at his whim. He doesn’t love you. He loves control.”

His words struck like daggers, but you didn’t falter. Your feet stayed firmly planted, and your eyes met his with unwavering resolve.

“You think this was justice?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous. “You think slaughtering an innocent child is justice?”

“Luke was innocent,” Daemon snapped back, stepping closer until you could see the cold fury in his eyes. “Was he not? When Aemond took his life, did you cry for him too? Did you weep for your brother the way you weep for Helaena’s son? No.” His lips curled into a sneer. “You weep now because it suits you.”

Tears streamed down your face, but your eyes stayed sharp as steel. “Luke’s death was an accident, Daemon,” you hissed, your voice low and filled with venom. “Even Aemond didn’t want it to happen. But what you did—” Your voice broke. “You planned it. You watched it happen. You sent monsters to kill a boy and my unborn child. You had no mercy.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Daemon said quietly, his face deadly calm. “I had all the mercy in the world. If it were me in that room, I would have killed them all. Jaehaerys. Jaehaera. Maelor. All of them.” He stepped back, his gaze turning colder still. “Because that is how you win a war.”

“This isn’t war, Daemon!” Rhaenyra’s voice thundered across the courtyard, her eyes filled with fury as she stepped between the two of you. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “This is slaughter! You took my daughter’s unborn child. You butchered my sister children. This is not how we win. This is how we lose.”

For a moment, Daemon said nothing. He stared at Rhaenyra as if he were seeing her for the first time. “Everything I do, I do for us,” he said softly, his eyes locked with hers. “For you.”

“You did it for yourself,” Rhaenyra spat, her eyes filled with disgust. “Don’t hide behind me, Daemon. If you wanted blood, you could have spilt it yourself. But you didn’t. You hid in the shadows. You sent monsters to do the deed.” She stepped closer to him, her face inches from his. “You will answer for this.”

He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with danger. “You’d condemn me? Me? After all I’ve done for you?” His smile was slow, sharp, and dangerous. “No, my love. You will not.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, she looked every bit the dragon she was born to be. “Watch me.”

Daemon’s gaze shifted to you once more. His eyes were filled with something cold and ancient, like something far older than men. “Be careful, girl,” he said softly, his voice like a shadow brushing against your ear. “You’re playing a dangerous game. And in games like these, the innocent die first.”

He walked away, his footsteps echoing across the stone.

Your heart pounded as you watched him leave. Your breathing was shallow, your hands trembling at your sides. You felt Rhaenyra’s hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but gentle.

“I will not let him harm you again,” she said quietly, her voice firm with quiet resolve. “He will pay for what he has done.”

You didn’t respond. Your eyes stayed fixed on Daemon’s retreating form, watching him disappear into the darkness.

But one thing was certain.

You would never forget.

And you would never forgive.

You stared at your mother, her figure strong yet filled with a quiet sadness as she stood at the top of the stone steps. Her eyes pleaded with you, her voice soft but firm.

“Stay,” she said, her tone heavy with both authority and love. “Stay here with me. I will protect you. No harm will come to you under this roof.”

Her words hung in the cold air like a gentle lullaby, but they did not bring you peace. Your gaze dropped to the ground, your eyes filled with unshed tears. You shook your head slowly, each movement more certain than the last.

“No,” you whispered, lifting your head to meet her gaze. “No, Mother.” You took a step back, your breath shaky but your resolve unshaken.

Her brows knitted together in confusion, her hands reaching out slightly as if to pull you back. “Please,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion. “You don’t have to go back there. You don’t have to suffer alone.”

Your heart ached, the pain of loss and betrayal still fresh in your chest. The weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating and relentless. You glanced away from her, your eyes distant as you stared at the endless sea.

“Maybe the debt of blood was never truly even,” you murmured, your voice hollow, each word sharper than any blade. Your gaze lifted back to hers, your eyes filled with something far colder than before. “You only lost Luke.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, her breath hitching as if you had struck her.

“But I…” your voice trembled as you placed a hand on your stomach, feeling the phantom ache where life had once stirred. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you did not let them fall. Your voice hardened like steel. “I lost Jaehaerys. I lost the child I carried in my womb.”

Her lips parted in shock, her face stricken with pain. She stepped forward, but you took another step back, your eyes sharp like broken glass.

“Two lives for one,” you continued, bitterness lacing every word. “How is that justice, Mother? How is that fair?”

Her hand dropped, and for the first time, you saw something break inside her. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came. Guilt, regret, and sorrow warred on her face, but none of it could change the past. None of it could bring them back.

You turned away from her, your feet crunching against the stone as you walked away. Each step echoed louder than the last. The cold wind from the sea whipped at your cloak, your hood falling back to reveal your tear-streaked face. Your steps were heavy, but you did not stop.

“Wait,” Rhaenyra’s voice wavered, thick with desperation. “Please. Don’t leave like this.”

But you didn’t turn around. You didn’t look back.

Not this time.

“Don’t let this hate consume you,” she begged, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to reach your ears.

Your steps slowed, just for a moment.

“Hate?” you repeated, your voice bitter with a hollow laugh. “You taught me hate, Mother.” Your eyes glanced at the stormy sea ahead. “You taught me that blood must pay for blood.”

Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your palms until they ached. “Now I know what that truly means.”

You took another step forward, ready to leave Dragonstone behind.

But then—

“Wait!”

The voice that called you wasn’t Rhaenyra’s. It wasn’t Daemon’s.

It was Jacaerys.

You froze in place, your body going rigid at the sound of his voice. The sound of his footsteps echoed behind you as he hurried down the steps. He was close now, too close.

“Please,” he said, his breath ragged from running. “Please, don’t go.”

You clenched your jaw, your heart twisting with emotions you could barely control. Slowly, you turned to face him.

There he was. Jace.

His face was filled with desperation, his brows furrowed deeply, his eyes fixed on you as if looking away would shatter you like glass. His breath came in sharp puffs, his chest heaving as he tried to catch it.

“Don’t do this,” Jace said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Don’t leave like this. Stay. Please, just stay.”

Your eyes met his, filled with so many emotions that you could barely breathe — grief, rage, love, and the bitter ache of betrayal.

“You want me to stay?” you said, your voice eerily calm. “Did you stay when they killed my child? Did you stay when they killed Helaena’s son? Tell me, Jace. Where were you?”

His lips parted, but no answer came. He looked away, his eyes filled with shame.

“You didn’t come for me then,” you said, your voice cracking. “Don’t ask me to stay now.”

His eyes snapped back to you, his face contorting in frustration. “I didn’t know,” he said, his voice shaking with raw emotion. “I didn’t know what Daemon had done. If I had known—”

“—You would have stopped it?” you finished, eyes narrowing. “You would have saved them? No, Jace. You wouldn’t have. You follow Daemon like a loyal hound, and you know it.” You stepped forward, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re innocent.”

He didn’t move, didn’t push you away. He took it all, his face falling into something close to defeat.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours. “You’re right.” His voice was low, filled with pain. “I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t know.” He took a breath, his gaze searching yours. “But I know now.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. The crashing waves below filled the stillness like thunder.

Jace lowered his head, his eyes closed for a moment as if gathering his thoughts. When he opened them, they were filled with something new. Resolve.

“I can’t undo what’s been done,” he said, stepping closer to you. His eyes stayed on yours, steady and unwavering. “But I can stop it from happening again. I swear it. I will make Daemon answer for what he did. I’ll stand with you. If you’ll let me.”

His words hung in the air like a fragile thread. You stared at him, searching his face for lies, but all you saw was raw honesty. Guilt. Regret. Shame.

But also something more.

“Why should I trust you?” you asked, your voice hollow but sharp.

Jace’s eyes burned with defiance. “I am your brother.” His voice was hard, fierce, unyielding. He stepped closer until he was only a breath away. “I can’t change the past, but I can fight for you now. I swear it on my life.”

For a moment, you said nothing.

The cold wind tugged at your cloak, carrying the salt of the sea with it. Your heart was heavy with doubt, grief, and anger, but as you stared at Jace, you saw something else.

A part of you still wanted to believe him.

But belief was dangerous. Trust was dangerous.

“Words are cheap, Jace,” you said softly, your eyes hard as steel. “Show me.”

His gaze didn’t falter. “I will.”

You stood there for a moment longer, letting the weight of his words settle into your heart. The ache of loss still throbbed in your chest, and your hand briefly hovered over your stomach, remembering what had been taken from you.

Finally, you turned your back on him once more, your heart colder than it had ever been.

“Then show me from afar,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “Because I’m done standing in the shadow of dragons.”

You didn’t stop this time.

Not when you heard Rhaenyra call your name. Not when Jace called after you.

Not when you felt the tears burning in your eyes. You kept walking, your heart as cold as the sea wind.

Because blood had been paid with blood And the debt would never be even.

You walked along the shores of Dragonstone, your steps slow and unsteady as the sand shifted beneath your feet. The waves crashed softly against the beach, the cool sea breeze brushing against your face. Your eyes stayed fixed on the endless horizon, thoughts swirling like a storm within you.

The weight of grief still sat heavy in your chest, but the gentle sound of the sea brought you a fleeting moment of calm. Each step left behind a mark in the sand, only to be washed away by the tide moments later. Just like everything else, you thought bitterly.

But then—

A sound.

A deep, resonating roar that echoed through the skies.

Your heart froze for a moment, your eyes snapping upward. It was loud, sharp, and familiar — a sound you knew better than any song. It rumbled through the air like thunder, causing the guards stationed at the cliffs to turn their heads in alarm.

Your gaze followed the source of the sound, and there, circling the skies, was your dragon.

Its silver-gray scales glinted against the dim light of the cloudy sky, and its large wings stretched wide like the sails of a great ship. The sight of it was enough to draw the breath from your lungs. Your dragon let out another deafening roar before diving downward in a spiral, heading straight toward you.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips, your chest filling with something warm. It wasn’t much — just a spark of joy in the midst of all the pain — but it was enough to make you feel alive again. You were not alone.

The force of the wind swept around you as your dragon landed with a loud thud, its claws digging into the sand. The gust blew back your cloak, and you shielded your face from the stinging grains of sand in the air. Your dragon’s great head turned to you, its sharp eyes meeting yours with an intelligence far beyond that of any beast. It lowered its head, pressing its snout gently against your side.

You exhaled shakily, placing both hands on its warm, scaly snout, feeling the low rumble of its breath beneath your palms. It was like feeling the pulse of the earth itself.

“You found me,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling as you ran your hands over its snout. Your fingers traced the familiar grooves of its scales, the ridges you had touched so many times before. “You always find me, don’t you?”

Your dragon let out a low, soft growl in response, nudging you gently with its head. It was a silent promise, one it had made to you from the moment it bonded with you.

You stepped back, lifting your eyes to meet its gaze.

“Take me home,” you said, your voice steadier this time. There was no doubt, no hesitation. “Take me back to King’s Landing.”

The dragon lowered its body, its wings folding inward to give you an easy path to climb. You didn’t think twice. You grabbed hold of the leather reins and pulled yourself up, settling into the saddle with practiced ease. The warmth of the dragon’s body seeped into you, chasing away the cold that had lingered in your bones.

You took one last glance behind you. From the cliffs of Dragonstone, you could see the shadowy figures of your mother, Daemon, and Jace watching from above. Rhaenyra raised a hand, calling out your name, but you did not answer. You did not look back.

Not anymore.

You tapped the side of your dragon’s neck, and it let out a powerful roar that shook the air. Its wings spread wide, blocking out the gray sky above. With a powerful leap, your dragon launched into the air, the wind rushing past your ears as the ground fell away beneath you. The sea below became a blur of blue and white, the island of Dragonstone growing smaller and smaller behind you.

The cold air bit at your cheeks, the salt of the sea sharp on your tongue, but none of it mattered. The weight on your heart began to ease, replaced by the fierce certainty of purpose.

You would return to King’s Landing.

And this time, you would not be silent.

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind consumed by a storm of fear and rage. His breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as he marched through the corridors of the Red Keep, his single eye scanning every shadow, every figure, every face. Servants cowered as he passed, too afraid to meet his gaze.

“Where is she?!” he barked at the guards stationed by the main gates. “Have you seen her?! Speak, or lose your tongues!”

The guards shook their heads, stammering apologies, but none could give him the answer he so desperately sought. His jaw clenched in frustration, his fists curling so tightly his nails dug into his palms. Where could you have gone? Why would you leave without a word? The thought alone was enough to drive him mad.

But then —

A roar.

His body went still, every muscle in him freezing at the familiar, thunderous sound that echoed through the skies. His heart skipped a beat as his head snapped upward. The roar cut through the air like the call of a war horn, commanding attention from all below. He knew that sound better than any other. It was your dragon.

His eye widened with realization, and he spun on his heel, running toward the nearest courtyard with the clearest view of the sky. His gaze locked on the figure above. High in the sky, your dragon soared, its powerful wings cutting through the clouds with ease. The silver-gray scales shimmered under the pale light, a flash of brilliance against the dull gray sky.

But it wasn’t the dragon that seized his attention. It was you.

There, atop your dragon, he saw you. Cloaked and hooded, your figure was unmistakable. His heart squeezed in his chest, equal parts relief and fury. He saw the direction your dragon was heading — not toward the sea, not toward the city — but toward the Dragonpit.

His mind raced. She’s coming back.

Without wasting another moment, he turned and sprinted toward the stables, his boots thudding hard against the stone. His breathing was sharp, uneven, but he didn’t stop. He had to reach you. He had to see you.

When he reached his horse, he barely gave the stable boy a glance, yanking the reins from the boy’s hands and mounting it in one smooth motion.

“Out of my way!” he snarled, spurring the horse forward with a sharp kick. The animal whinnied, rearing for a moment before galloping at full speed. The streets of King’s Landing blurred around him as he rode, his eye fixed on the path ahead. He didn’t care about the crowds he scattered or the shouts of merchants cursing him as they leapt from his path.

His mind was focused on one thing only: you.

The closer he got to the Dragonpit, the louder the sounds became — the roars of other dragons, the thundering of wings, and the growing buzz of people gathering to witness the arrival of a dragon. When he finally reached the base of the hill leading up to the Dragonpit, he dismounted with a reckless leap. He didn’t care that the horse hadn’t stopped moving. He didn’t care that his boots slid on the loose gravel.

He sprinted up the hill, his breathing sharp and harsh, his gaze locked on the entrance to the Dragonpit. His heart was a riot of emotions — anger, relief, confusion, desperation — all colliding at once. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had to see you. He had to know why.

When he reached the top, he stopped just short of the entrance, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He looked around wildly, his eye scanning the pit. The great shadow of your dragon loomed ahead, its massive wings folding in as it settled on the ground. Dust and loose gravel still floated in the air from its landing. The other dragons within the pit roared in recognition, their calls echoing off the stone walls.

And then he saw you.

You slid down from the saddle, your movements slow but deliberate. Your hood was still up, but as you turned, the fabric slipped from your head, revealing your face. His breath caught in his throat.

You stood there, gazing at him with an unreadable expression. There was no anger, no sorrow, no relief. Just a cold, quiet stillness in your eyes.

He took a step forward, his breathing still uneven. His mouth opened, but for a moment, no words came out. His mind was a mess of confusion, worry, and disbelief. Finally, he found his voice.

“Where were you?” His voice was hoarse, his tone hard but not loud. “Where in the Seven Hells were you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your gaze shifted toward the dragon behind you, your eyes softening for just a moment as you reached up to touch its snout. Slowly, you turned your eyes back to him.

“Dragonstone,” you said simply.

Aemond’s face twisted with disbelief, his eye narrowing. “You left?” he hissed, his voice sharper now. “You left without a word — without a guard — after everything that’s happened?” His tone rose with each word, his anger bleeding into every syllable. His eye darted down to your stomach for the briefest of moments, his gaze flickering with something raw and unspoken.

“You could have been killed,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. He took another step forward, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “Do you know what you’ve done to me? To my mother? I scoured the Keep for you, I—” He stopped himself, clenching his jaw so hard it ached.

But you didn’t flinch. You stood your ground, your eyes meeting his head-on. The air between you was tense, thick with words that neither of you had spoken.

“I went to see my mother,” you said, your tone even, but there was a cold edge to it. “I wanted to hear it from her lips. I wanted to know if she was the one who ordered it. Aemond’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him.

“I had to know,” you said through gritted teeth. “I had to know if my mother had a hand in murdering Helaena’s son—” Your voice broke for a moment, but you steadied yourself, lifting your chin. “—and our child.”

He winced, his gaze dropping to the ground for a second too long. Guilt hung heavy on his shoulders.

“What did she say?” he asked quietly, barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, your eyes flickering toward your dragon, as if drawing strength from its presence. When you looked back at him, your eyes were cold, harder than he’d ever seen them before.

“She didn’t deny it,” you said, and those words were like a blade through his chest. “Daemon gave the order, but she did nothing to stop it. Nothing.”

Silence fell between you like a chasm, too wide to cross.

Aemond took another step forward, his face filled with something raw, something close to desperation. “You should have come to me,” he said through clenched teeth. “Not them. Not her.” His voice cracked on the last word. “I would have gone with you. I would have done anything for you.”

Your eyes softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I know,” you whispered, “but I needed to face her myself.”

He let out a harsh breath, his anger still simmering beneath his skin, but he understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood.

“Don’t do it again,” he said, stepping forward until there was barely a breath of space between you. His gaze bore into yours, hard as steel. “Don’t leave me like that again. I will not lose you too.”

You searched his face, your eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something that hadn’t been there before.

“Then don’t give me a reason to leave,” you replied softly, placing a hand on his chest, just over his heart. You could feel it beating beneath your palm, wild and uneven.

He grabbed your hand, his grip firm but not harsh. His single eye locked on yours, his jaw set with determination.

“Never,” he promised, his voice rough but certain. “Never again.”

You and Aemond returned to the Red Keep, the familiar sight of its towering walls and sharp spires looming ahead. The weight of everything that had happened pressed heavily on your shoulders, but you stood tall, your gaze steady.

Word of your return had already spread. As you approached the entrance, there she was — Alicent. She stood by the grand doors, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her eyes scanning the distance until they found you. Her face shifted instantly. The sharp worry that had etched lines into her features melted away, replaced by pure, unrestrained relief.

Her breath hitched as she stepped forward, her pace quickening with each step. Her eyes, filled with both love and quiet reproach, never left you. Before you could say a word, she was upon you.

“My sweet girl,” she breathed, pulling you into a firm embrace. Her arms wrapped around you tightly, as if she feared you would disappear again if she let go. Her cheek pressed against your hair, and you could feel her breath tremble as she exhaled.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, her voice strained with a mix of relief and frustration. Her hands moved to cup your face, tilting it up so she could look directly into your eyes. “Leaving without a word, without a guard, after all that’s happened? Do you have any idea what you put us through?”

Her eyes searched yours, flickering between anger, worry, and something deeper — something like fear. She brushed a hand over your cheek, her thumb tracing the faint lines of exhaustion on your face. Her gaze softened even more. “We thought we’d lost you too.”

Behind you, Aemond stood silently, his eye fixed on you both. His jaw was tight, his hands clasped behind his back, but his gaze betrayed him. He was watching you intently, every shift of your face, every word his mother spoke.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, glancing away for a moment. “I just… I needed to know.”

Alicent blinked, confused. “Know what?” she asked softly, her brows furrowing.

You glanced at Aemond before returning your gaze to Alicent. “I went to Dragonstone,” you admitted, voice steadier now. “I had to see my mother. I had to know if she had any part in… in this madness.” Your voice cracked slightly on the last words, but you stood firm, not allowing yourself to falter.

Alicent’s lips parted in shock. She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours as if to confirm she had heard you correctly. Her eyes darted to Aemond, who merely lowered his gaze, his face unreadable.

“Did she…?” Alicent’s voice was strained, her breath barely above a whisper, as though she feared the answer.

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to speak. “Daemon gave the order, like that man said” you said, each word cutting like a blade. “But she did nothing to stop it.”

Alicent’s face crumpled with something close to devastation. Her hands trembled slightly as she lowered them from your face. She turned away for a moment, blinking rapidly, her lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to steady herself.

“I see,” she murmured, her voice distant. She exhaled slowly, her gaze distant as she stared ahead at nothing. Then, she turned back to you, her eyes filled with fierce resolve. “You will not go back there. Not alone. Not ever.”

Her voice was firm, like an order, but it was laced with worry and love. Her hands found yours and gripped them tightly. “You belong here. With us. Do you understand me? You belong here.”

Her words echoed with such certainty that, for the first time in days, you felt the weight on your heart lift ever so slightly. You squeezed her hands back, nodding slowly.

“I understand,” you whispered, glancing briefly at Aemond. He was still watching you, his eye unwavering, his expression softer now.

“Good,” Alicent said, her voice more stable now. She pulled you close for another embrace, resting her chin on top of your head. “You’re home now. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

But deep down, you both knew it wasn’t over. Not yet.

You walked slowly toward your chamber, your steps quiet but purposeful. The soft patter of your feet echoed in the stone hallway, but behind you, there was another sound — heavier, more deliberate. Each step thudded with weight, sharp and tense, like thunder rolling in the distance.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Aemond.

His presence was unmistakable. You could feel the heat of his gaze boring into your back, and the intensity of it sent a shiver down your spine. He followed close, his breaths steady but heavy, as though every step he took required restraint. There was an energy around him, an unspoken storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. Anger. Grief. Guilt.

When you finally reached your chamber, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. For a moment, you hesitated, your hand still resting on the doorframe. You could hear him stop just behind you, lingering for a heartbeat longer. Then, with a slow creak, he followed you in and shut the door behind him.

The silence in the room was thick, heavier than before. The air felt stifling. You turned slowly to face him.

Aemond stood there, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. His eye locked onto yours, sharp as a blade but flickering with something deeper. His jaw was clenched so tightly you could see the muscle twitch beneath his skin. His lips pressed into a thin, hard line.

He didn’t speak. Not at first.

But his eye told you everything. Anger. Not at you — never at you — but at the world, at himself, at fate. And sadness, deeper than any wound.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything that might ease his pain, but before you could, his face crumpled. His breath hitched, and before you knew it, he sank to his knees before you.

It wasn’t a graceful descent. It was a collapse. A man stripped of every wall he’d built around himself. His hands fell to his sides, and his head bowed as if the weight of it had finally become too much. His silver hair fell forward, hiding his face from you.

Your heart ached at the sight.

You stepped forward, slowly, watching him with wide eyes. You had seen Aemond in battle, in fury, in cold calculation — but never like this. Never so broken.

His shoulders shook. Barely at first, then more violently. The sound of his breaths grew louder, more ragged, and then you heard it — a sob. It tore from his chest like a wound finally bursting open.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. His head tilted forward, and he pressed his hands flat against the cold stone floor, his fingers curling into fists. His whole body trembled, and his breath came in shallow gasps. “I’m sorry… I almost lost you.”

His words struck you harder than any blade ever could.

You knelt down slowly, your movements careful, as if afraid to startle him. Your eyes never left him. Reaching out, you placed your hands on his face, gently cupping his cheeks. He flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. His eye, still wet with unshed tears, met yours, and you saw it all laid bare — fear, love, desperation.

“You didn’t lose me,” you whispered firmly, your voice soft but steady. “I’m here. I’m right here, Aemond.”

He squeezed his eye shut, another tear rolling down his cheek and soaking into your palm. His hand lifted slowly, wrapping around your wrist, holding it there as if you were his only tether to reality.

“I was afraid,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and broken. “When I came back and you were gone… I thought you’d left me. I thought—” His breath caught, and he gritted his teeth, his face twisting in pain. “I can’t lose you too. I can’t.”

Hearing him like this shattered something in you. The man who always seemed so untouchable, so unyielding, was now falling apart right in front of you. And he had fallen for you.

You leaned forward, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you breathed him in — his warmth, his pain, his love.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised, your voice unwavering this time. “I’ll always come back to you.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. You stayed like that — two broken souls holding each other together in a world that seemed so bent on tearing you apart. His breathing eventually slowed, his trembling eased. He stayed on his knees, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you closer.

No words were needed. This was enough. For now, it was enough.

There, in the stillness of your shared grief and relief, Aemond lifted his head just enough to look at you. His eye, red from tears, gazed at you with a raw, unguarded tenderness you had never seen before. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but for a moment, he hesitated. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his breath shaky.

Then, finally, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, he said it.

“I love you.”

The words hung in the air like the soft glow of dawn after a long, endless night. Your breath caught in your chest. Time seemed to stop.

You stared at him, eyes wide with surprise. You had known he cared for you, perhaps even loved you in his own way, but he had never said it before. Never like this. Never so openly, so vulnerably.

His eye searched your face, watching for any hint of your reaction, fear flickering in his gaze as if he’d just bared the most fragile part of himself. His grip on you tightened, as if afraid you would pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you cupped his face with both hands, your thumbs gently brushing away the lingering tears on his cheeks. Slowly, carefully, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. Your eyes closed, and you breathed in the warmth of him, steadying your own heart.

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice soft as a prayer, but every word was filled with certainty.

You felt him exhale, his breath warm against your skin, the weight of his fears slowly lifting. His arms around you grew firmer, pulling you closer, grounding himself in you. For a moment, the world outside the room didn’t exist. No war. No blood. No grief. Just the two of you, holding on to each other as if the very gods themselves had tried to tear you apart.

No words were spoken after that. None were needed. The truth had finally been spoken.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

[thevillainswhore]

A Balm To The Heart

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: After a long day at the woodyard, Bucky finds peace in his best girl’s arms.

Warnings: Pure unfiltered fluff, like the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed, Bucky’s POV, driving while sleepy (don’t do it!!), pet names, established relationship, oh and did I mention fluff?

Author’s Note: Divider by @saradika-graphics. Proofread by @buckys-wintersoldier thank you so much my darling, you’re my rock 🧡 This is part of @elixirfromthestars cafe writing challenge!! Using the prompt 🍞 “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.” My first ever challenge I’ve been apart of and I had the most fun with it!! Thank you, my sweet Mel! 🥰

The Love In The Woods Collection ❄️

The sun began to lay on the precipice of the day, the light slowly fading out to make way for the dark of the night. Bucky fought the tiredness claiming his eyes, tempting him to fall asleep at the wheel. If you knew he was driving in his state, you’d throw a fit. 

But he had to make it home to his baby. 

Exhaustion weighed Bucky down from a long day at the woodyard. Hauling timber all day to prepare the town for the harsh winter coming up was enough to make his old joints ache with pain. However, with the lack of staff due to the storm blocking most of the roads, he had to do it all himself. 

Bucky just wanted to sink into you. 

All day, he was tormented by the prettiest image of you snuggled into your shared bed, pouty lips and pleading eyes begging him to call in sick, to stay home with you. 

And even though his sanity was tested, Bucky regretfully declined. All the old folks needed wood to keep their homes heated in the cold season and his mind wouldn’t have settled knowing a full day would be lost to his own selfishness. 

Though as he drove back to his cabin, rivers of golden beams shining into his truck, Bucky wished he had taken your offer.  

Although, his sourness sweetened into a warm affection as he caught the glint of his wedding ring in the dying sunlight. 

You love sunsets, Bucky smiled to himself. He had to take you to the top of the mountains to watch another one soon.

He could imagine you at home, watching the remnants of the day with its beautiful colours reflecting into your eyes. 

Sunsets mean the end of the day, fresh starts and hope that tomorrow will bring us more peace than today. Remember that, Bear. 

Your voice instantly calmed the mess in his mind, the stress that had wound his muscles tight. With a heavy sigh, Bucky let go of the toll the day had taken on him and instead focused on where the path ahead would lead him — you. 

The truck grumbled to a stop in the driveway and Bucky didn’t bother stopping to grab his tools or his bags. The pink painted door called to him, called your name, his home. 

Throwing the door open, Bucky quickly shook off his coat and boots. His steps didn’t falter as he made his way to the bedroom. Not when he began peeling his clothes off one by one on the way. Not when emotion clogged up his eyes at the smell of your sweet scent lingering around the house. 

And there you were as he entered his bedroom. Once crafted by his bare hands as part of his first home after he left college, now his safe space in which he was lucky enough to share with his wife. His haven. 

It looked like you hadn’t moved from the morning. Still tangled in the sheets, your hair was messy from your tossing and turning, though your skin glowed beautifully in the golden sunlight that shimmered through the window. The orange tones that tattooed your body almost gave you a vintage look and the sight was enough to render Bucky speechless. 

Just like the day you showed up on his doorstep after years apart. 

Your smile was blinding as you looked up at him, tearing yourself away from your fantasy book he knew you loved so much and placing it on the nightstand. “Hey, baby. I missed you.” 

If that didn’t do things to Bucky’s heart. 

“Dolly,” he gasped, a slight whine to his voice. 

Instantly, because you’re so well in tune with him, your arms opened wide — an invitation to join you. “Come here, you big lug.” 

Bucky didn't waste another second. Clad in only his underwear, he all but jumped onto the bed, the pristinely crafted wood of the frame creaking from old age. 

You shifted the duvet to swaddle around his frame once he reached you, cocooning him in your accumulated warmth over the day. Feeling your bare skin against his after hours away from you was liberating, like he had ascended to heaven. Even after years of wedded bliss, Bucky still got tingles whenever the two of you touched. 

You were pure magic wrapped in a bottle. 

“Can I lay my head on you?” Bucky asked quietly, relishing in the serenity you so easily provided him. 

You laughed, the sound mesmerising to his ears. “Like you even have to ask. Tell me about your day, Bear.” 

Needing no other permission, Bucky laid in your arms. Positioning his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your stomach and his legs intertwined with yours. He was so much bigger than you, comically so. But Bucky needed to lose himself in your softness from time to time. 

He groaned as the muscles in his joints finally had a chance to relax. “I would much rather hear about your day, sweetheart. Lemme hear your voice for a while, will ya?” 

Bucky looked up to find your cheeks tightened from the large, bashful smile on your face, one that he knew you had tried to smother but failed to do so. They were his favourite. 

You shook your head fondly and squeezed him before beginning to recall your day. It wasn’t filled with much — mostly with bathroom breaks when you could rip yourself out of bed, a trip to the home library down the hall to pick the next book of your series, and lastly an hour of baking. Even so, Bucky listened to you intently, his soul replenishing more with each activity you listed off. 

Because that was his goal in life. His vow to you in marriage. To make your life as easy and simple as possible. To bring you peace when the world threatened to dull your sparkle. 

And boy was he satisfied to know he had achieved that. 

Bucky’s eyes began to grow heavy, the kind that he couldn’t fight any longer. You must have noticed from the loosening of his limbs and the sudden lightness to his body. “Are you sleepy, baby?” 

The rhythm of your heart soothed him as he murmured a lazy hum of agreement. 

“You can rest now, Bear.” Your soft voice sounded further away as sleep started to overtake him, like the prettiest lullaby he’d ever heard. “I’ve got you.” 

Before the whispers of slumber could steal him, though, Bucky smiled — drunken and free. “I like hearing your heart beating when I put my head on your chest.”

The giggle that vibrated from your body to his only made him fall even more in love with you. Bucky purred like a cat as you ran your nails through his hair and finally let himself go. 

The last sensation that registered in his mind was the feeling of your lips pressed against his head and a last declaration of love. “Thank you for being the reason it does.”