#I just feel like my life is quietly spiraling

[roomsofangel]

LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter three

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 1.6k

chapter warnings none that really come to mind

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wooyoung had thought he had everything figured out when he was nineteen. he thought the life he had then, he would have forever. he thought that all he wanted and all he needed was you, and it would be the same way at twenty-four. he was sure of it, sure of his feelings and sure of his future.

how naive he had been, now he was stuck. stuck with no direction, no plan, just himself and the constant feeling of things spiraling further and further out of control. he couldn't even remember how he used to be so sure, how he had felt so confident for the future, how he had the certainty that nothing would change. it was a distant memory, a different time and a different world that didn't exist anymore. the future was a mystery and a burden he didn't want.

but he couldn't say any of this to you now. he felt ashamed, as if he had fucked up everything and now he had no choice but to make it worse. he felt as if everything was doomed, and it was all his fault. it was his fault that your connection was unsalvageable, his fault that everything was over. you had every right to leave now if you desired to do so, and he understood. he just hoped if you were to go, he’d find comfort in the fact your presence was no longer being haunted and plagued with his.

"and if you go, i wanna go with you,” he remembers singing one night, his fingers whizzing across the strings of the guitar while you moved about him, dancing in his shirt. the memory was so clear in his mind, as if it had only happened last night. he could recall you and this memory with vivid clarity, as if he had just left your tiny apartment before you two agreed on living together because at the time, who would have ever thought he’d be the wreck he was today?

he recalled the way he wanted nothing more than to stay like that with you, how he desperately wanted you. the way he wished you would stay with him, and the moment would never end. he craved your presence, wanted to be close to you, and felt drawn to your every movement and gesture. he was intoxicated by the feeling, wanting more and more of you with every moment that passed.

and if you die, i wanna die with you

"do you remember when we used to go down to the beach and just… stare at the moon?” you mentioned one night as you sat outside on the curb, flicking the lighter in your hand that you used to light wooyoung’s cigarette for him. the warm summer nights and the soft sand were always a comfort. the vast expanse of the moon as you lay on the beach, and the gentle waves of the ocean were all soothing elements that you dearly missed.

wooyoung hummed first in response, “i do.” he said it quietly, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear him. “i always do.” the words seemed like an echo of the past, as if he was still the same person from those warm summer nights. the moon was still beautiful, and his humming was still comforting. but somehow, it felt different. everything felt off, like you were in a dream or this was a memory.

you amused, reminiscing more as you brought up one of your favorite memories. “you remember how you tripped into the water because you tried getting a seashell for me?” your laughter was music to his ears, and he couldn't help but grin. the way you laughed was contagious, and the memory brought back fond memories of times when everything was simpler and the future hadn't yet been tainted. the warm summer breeze and the sound of the waves were all nostalgic reminders of that time.

wooyoung whispered with a smile trying not to form as he focused his sight ahead. “yeah... i do...” the memory brought a smile to his face, but it was tinged with sadness as well. “and how you were freaking out getting me a towel because you didn’t want me sick.” he chuckled, remembering that frantic moment. the moment stuck with him even after all this time.

“and then... we got back to our apartment.” you whispered, glancing towards him as you watched how the cigarette smoke left his lips. some even exhaling through his nose, making him resemble a dragon. it was amusing, though bittersweet in light of the situation, and it made you smile despite the serious talk that came afterwards. “you said something that night...?” you asked quietly, wanting to hear the answer one more time before you had to let go.

but, wooyoung didn't seem as eager to speak as before. he avoided your gaze as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. “uh... yeah...” he finally acknowledged, the words spoken in a low, timid tone. he was clearly uncomfortable, and you didn't know why. it seemed as if the memory itself was painful for him.

he met your gaze, his eyes saying more than he has ever said verbally these past few months. his eyes were full of unsaid things, like a book waiting to be read, and you were desperate to know what he was thinking. "do you remember?" he finally spoke, as if he was asking for something. It was obvious something was wrong, that he was holding onto something. he was holding onto more than just the past, he had something he wanted to tell you.

he held your gaze still as he waited for your response, his eyes pleading with you. you knew he was about to tell you something he had kept quiet for such a long time. the tension was palpable, and you were ready to hear what he was going to say. "do you remember?" he repeated his question, and this time his voice was more resolute. he was going to say what he'd been holding in for months.

and then he finally said it. the words were spoken with conviction, with no hesitation or reluctance this time. it was as if he had made up his mind about saying it, no matter the consequences. "i told you that i loved you that night," he said flatly, as if he was trying his best to be blunt. he didn't want to dance around the topic or make it more complicated than it was. he just wanted you to hear it.

you whispered quietly, "and i told you that i loved you, too." the moment was silent after that, as if everything else had ceased to exist but the two of you. you had both admitted how you felt, and now you were waiting for a reaction, a response. it was like the air was stilled and time had stopped just for the two of you, as if the world was waiting to hear what would happen next.

after what seemed like an eternity of silence, wooyoung stirred. his gaze shifted to you before looking back ahead. his expression was still unreadable, but you could see something pass over his face. was it relief? was he happy? was he ashamed? you needed to know, you needed some sort of answer. "you really meant it," he said quietly, as if he couldn't bring himself to believe it.

you could feel him searching your face with his eyes, searching for any sign that you were just saying it to appease him, anything that suggested you hadn't meant it when you said it. "you really meant it, didn't you?" he repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. he could not believe that you had meant those words, that you truly felt the same way. he had ruined everything, and he couldn't understand how you were still there, still beside him.

but you weren't saying them to appease him, you weren't saying them as if they were hollow gestures. you meant them, every single word of them. "i meant them," you answered, though you were surprised at how soft your voice had been. it sounded so different from the strong, determined voice he knew. was that regret and shame you heard in your own words? did you regret admitting your love? did you regret having given it away?

wooyoung was still staring at you, staring at your face as if searching for something within you. he wanted to see if you meant it, if you still meant it after everything. "is that how you feel still? do you..." he started to say, but his voice caught before he could finish. his gaze shifted from your face to something that was out of your sight before he shook his head. "no—, it doesn't matter. just please tell me, do you still feel the same way?”

wooyoung’s voice was still tinged with disbelief as he asked you if you still felt the same way. his tone was uncertain, full of doubt. he was afraid of the answer, of what you may say. the thought of you no longer feeling the same way terrified him, because he knew that he might have screwed up everything too much for it to be fixed.

"i never stopped," you replied quietly. and it was true, you had not. even when you were angry, frustrated, and hurt, you never stopped loving him. your love was stubborn and resilient, and it had endured everything. it had endured the arguments and fights, the harsh words and bitter silences, all of the times your love felt unwanted.

because you knew, deep down, you’d love wooyoung until he told you not to.

previous . . masterlist . . next

taglist @special4u @vampzity @jwone @dulceeed

[vaguebloggingextreme]

Also, objectively knowing that i have trouble with communicating and maintaining boundaries that I need to emotionally be ok because growing up my boundaries (that I very clearly communicated) were constantly ignored because people thought it was funny and actually trying to figure out how to put those boundaries there now without feeling guilty or like it's a waste of time is a fucking struggle too.

[earthtooz]

x : POCKY GAME ! :*+ﾟ

in which: you play the pocky game w/ various bllk boys!

warnings: gn!reader, ooc for some, fluff, lots of kissing, suggestive but not nsfw, 300-600 words depending on which blurb :p, the writing is better in some parts than others forgive me i was fighting for my life trying to get everything right >.<

a/n: if you enjoy pls like or reblog!!! okay sorry back to ur regularly scheduled content, but pls consider reblogging!!!!! have a lovely day !!!!

CONFIDENT AND COCKY. he’s the one who taunts you into it, placing the confectionary sweet between his teeth and staring at you mockingly, daring you to take the other end.

“c’mon, sweets. what’s the worst that could happen?” he jeers, sitting back in his seat. you scoff at his egotistical show. you can’t stand him, really, you can’t.

you curse that he knows this trait of yours: that you could never say no to a good challenge. you know that he’s got you cornered, unable to contain his smirk when you roll your eyes and latch on to the opposite end of the pocky. at least he was considerate enough to take the breadstick end for himself.

both of you ignore the way you step in between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders for stability before the game begins, but not without a wink sent your way first.

you hate his guts. he knows it, but he wants you so desperately it hurts. 

he tries to contain his eagerness yet he can't stop his hands from snaking up to loosely hold your hips, fearing that this was just another daydream of his imagination. you, on the other hand, remain unrushed, taking your time and not falling for his bait.

you love watching him suffer, don’t you? pushing then pulling back when he gets too close, leaving him in a lovesick haze. 

he loves that you know exactly what to do every time to send him spiralling. 

after what feels like an eternity yet no time at all, his heart stutters at the gentle hover of your lips over his before going into overdrive when you press against him, leaving no biscuit or space untouched. with little control, he gives himself fully into the kiss, conveying every pent up feeling of desire that you leave brewing within him. he has longed for this moment for ages. 

and somehow, you feel it. despite his playboy appearance, you can tell with this one kiss that he’s fully devoted himself to you. as ridiculous as the notion may sound, it's evident through the bruising embrace of his, the way he’s trying to commit your lips to memory, and the way that he's tilting his head to access more of you.

it’s enough to make your heart flutter. 

but. you knew you couldn’t give in to his wants. not yet.

abruptly parting from him, he quietly whines at the loss of contact, frowning when you push his hands away with that pretty smirk of yours. so unabashed in rejecting him, aren’t you?

“you’ve gotta work harder next time, pretty boy,” you whisper against his lips before lowering your head to press a quick kiss against his neck. “i’m not that easy to impress, especially not with a stick of pocky.”

he watches longingly as you walk away, a new fire of determination burning in his veins. 

oliver, KARASU, KAISER, SHIDOU, kunigami (after… yk) 

DOUBTFUL BUT REALLY WANTS THIS. the party is in full swing, the bass of the music is buzzing through the speakers, groups of people are getting drunk, and you? well, you're playing a game for prepubescent teenagers.

“truth or dare?” one of the party goers asks the soccer player whom you’ve harbored feelings for for a while. your stomach flips in anticipation at which option he’ll choose. 

his face twists into a split second of contemplation before the answer slips out of his mouth. “dare,” he answers confidently, returning the asker’s smug expression with one of his own.

“i dare you to play the pocky game with the person who you think is the most attractive in this room.”

everyone lets out a collective ‘ooo’ at the dare and you try to ignore the way your heart drops to your stomach, your nerves crawling all over you. the soccer player laughs before accepting it, catching the strawberry pocky box that is thrown in his direction.

who just casually has pocky as a party snack? 

you don’t get to spend long dwelling on your query because your eyes suddenly lock with his and he stands up, never breaking eye contact as he walks over to where you sit.

the group erupts into cheers of encouragement when he bends down to be eye-level with you, holding the box of pocky in his hands with a small, shy smile. he was so cute- hold on. he thought you were the most attractive person in the room? oh my goodness, where you about the kiss the man you’ve been pining after for months?

“wanna play?” he asks, sounding a little uncertain.

the only response you can muster is a stupid nod, blissful expectancy settling heavy in the air as he rips open the packet and fishes out a stick. 

“let me know if you’re uncomfortable with this.” his voice is low, murmuring something that he only wanted you to hear.

“it’s fine,” you reassure before latching your mouth to the opposite end, trying not to show the flurry of emotions whirlpooling within you in this very moment. 

was this real? are you dreaming? 

when your noses lightly bump into each other, you wake up to reality because this was real. you weren’t dreaming and his face was now mere millimetres away from yours. his eyes glance up from your lips to meet your eyes and you feel a spark occur, one that wasn’t unwelcome.

there’s just one little bit left, you can practically feel his lips against yours, the gap tormenting the two of you as one of you waits for the other to make the first move. he shakily exhales. you're going to go insane from anticipation.

fuck it. you’ve come this far.

he jolts a little in surprise at your boldness before melting into you, smiling into the kiss as all tension seeps out of his shoulders. distantly, you hear cheers and whoops from everyone, too caught up in the feeling of finally having him against you, blissfully relishing at the way your arms wind around his neck, embracing him like you've been meaning to for a while.

he smiles against you when noticing how eager you are, relieved and delighted at the same time.

"you're perfect," he whispers when he reluctantly breaks away, eyes droopy yet filled with desire.

you’re caught off guard when he tells the person next to you to move aside before sitting down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as everyone else watches. 

thank goodness for truth or dare.

isagi, yukimiya, REO, SAE (ik he’s like a ‘cool’ guy or whatever but i think he’s a total dork so let me have my moment),

DOES IT BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU. he could not care less about some stupid game and he sure doesn’t need a fucking game to kiss the love of his life. he could do that whenever he pleases; a luxury that he will never take for granted.

but when you looked so happy and excited to try it out, how could he say no? 

“this is ridiculous,” he mutters, making his opinion known for the umpteenth time before connecting his lips to the end of the pocky stick. after a small countdown, the game begins and he starts without hesitation, biting down on the breadstick with an unmatched pace, quickly crossing into your territory.

before he could reach you though, you pull away, unsatisfied with his impatience. he groans at the sudden lack of contact, especially when he was so close to getting what he wanted.

“could you at least try a little harder?” you ask, unimpressed as he finishes the snack.

“i’m trying very hard, isn’t the point of this game to kiss one another?” he counters.

“well, yeah-”

“-if anything, you’re losing right now, love, so why don’t you try a little harder?” he asks in a low tone, nearing his face towards yours as his voice turns a little more sultry at the end. 

you push his face away, grinning to hide the effect he still has on you. “oh shut up, creep. what if i proposed a challenge?” 

“i’m listening.”

“let’s play it so that we try not to kiss, how about that, pretty boy? loser does whatever the winner wants.”

he straightens up a little at the nickname usage and the prospect of a prize. quirking a brow out of fascination, he relents. “fine. ass deal, but whatever you want.”

you keen at his willingness before grabbing another stick to set up the game once again. when you glance back up at him, a shiver runs down your spine at the darkened, lidded look he was giving you.

he prompts you to do the same when he takes a bite from the snack. 

this time, he’s slow and methodical with his actions, taking small bites to meet you in the middle where you enter a stalemate. here you can feel his breath against your lips, fanning against you ever so gently. 

this is going to be a lot harder than you anticipated because he’s really good at resisting temptation and urging you at the same time. it’s almost unfair how he keeps nearing your lips, threatening to close the gap before leaning away, leaving you to chase after him, all whilst holding a delicate piece of breadstick between his teeth. you can’t exactly make out if he’s smirking or not, but the mirth is evident in his eyes. 

he’s luring you in and it’s working.

next thing you know, you’re surging up to meet his lips in a clash of teeth, passion, and desire, all in one. it’s messy, but he wouldn’t want it any other way, especially when he’s the one who got what he wanted.

oh well, this wasn’t too bad for you either.

“see,” he says, pulling away, breathless and panting, his swollen lips forming into a smile. “this is way better than some stupid game.”

“shut up and make out with me.”

he keeps it to himself how you bought his least favourite flavour because it tastes better with you.

RIN, niko, chigiri (hear me out on this one: i’m right)

HOW DID YOU GET HERE? you were enjoying your packet of pocky, really, you weren’t expecting anything exhilarating. however, that changed when he snuck up beside you, peering over your shoulder to see what you were eating.

you don’t miss the way his eyes light up upon seeing the branded snack in your hands and immediately asks if he can have one. when you glance inside the packet to see how many you have remaining, you tell him that there’s only one left which you tauntingly put in your mouth to gloat in his face.

what you were not expecting at all was for him to take a bite of the opposite end and you're immediately stunned into silence.

if that wasn’t enough, there was no shame when he began nibbling on it, closing the gap between your faces as he concentrates intensely on eating the confectionary sweet. 

you’re quite literally frozen, not having it in you to merely blink, too scared to move or retract away from him lest your poor heart give out from how it thunders in your chest, reverberating with the might of a thousand suns. 

if that wasn’t bad enough, the way he gently grabs your face with both hands to keep you cemented where you are only worsens your current predicament. warm palms holding either side as he stares determinedly at your lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

was he always this pretty?

then, when you don’t think he can get any closer, he snaps the stick, pulling back with a satisfied grin, hands lingering where they’ve sought purchase before returning to his side.

“thanks for sharing, y/n. best pocky i’ve ever had in my life,” he says before turning around, walking away to leave you on the verge of a meltdown. 

NAGI, bachira (but with more excitement), otoya, 

[writemekpop]

Last Chance | Huang Renjun

Summary: When your boyfriend Renjun is feeling low and needy, he does something totally unexpected. 

Genre: Established relationship AU

Word Count: 1k

Renjun stormed into the apartment, shoving straight past you like you weren’t even there. There was a splash as he poured an old bottle of Malibu into a mug. 

“Too bad, baby. You deserved it,” you cooed, placing your hand on his shoulder. 

Renjun glared at you. “Why d’you always say that? Why don’t you ever ask how did the audition go?” 

You nod. “Sorry. How did the audition go?”

Renjun took a gulp of alcohol. “I didn’t get it.” 

You opened your arms, and Renjun collapsed into them. “What am I doing with my life? I haven’t got an acting job in three years. Maybe it’s time I… gave up.”

“Junnie,” you whispered, pressing soft kisses to his neck. “You know what you always say! It’s all about sticking it out. Paying your dues.” “I made that stuff up, Y/n!” Renjun moaned. “I- I’ve failed at life.” 

You pulled back, and wiped a tear from Renjun’s cheek. “You haven’t failed, baby. You’ve got me.”

Renjun cocked his head and looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I should make good decisions.” 

To your utter shock, he dropped down on one knee. Renjun took your hand in his. 

“Let’s get married, Y/n. You’re the only good decision I’ve ever made.”

You had dreamt about this moment from three months into meeting Renjun. You wanted it all – the baby girl, the tyre swing in the back garden, sparkly Father’s Day cards – but Renjun had never seemed to want the same thing. It had been four years now, and with each passing day, marriage seemed further and further away. 

But a little voice in your head was saying that something was not right. 

“I don’t want to be your ‘good decision’, Renjun,” you said quietly. “You make it sound like I’m a- a- plate of vegetables, or orthopaedic walking shoes.” 

Renjun frowned. You urged Renjun to stand up. “To me, Renjun, you’re my fantasy. My rollercoaster. My everything. I don’t want to be just a ‘good decision’.” Renjun shook his head. “That’s not what I meant! I love you, and I want to marry you.” You hugged yourself. “You’re just drunk, and feeling low… you feel like your life is spiralling.” Renjun shrugged. “That may be true. But – I know I’m right about you.” Renjun stroked your cheek. “I haven’t proposed because… I know that if I marry you, it won’t be enough. I’ll want it all – the house, the kids, the grandkids, for god’s sake.” He chuckled. “I’ll want you forever. And that terrifies me.” You could feel tears welling in your eyes. “Do you really mean it?” Renjun nodded, a smile spreading over his face. “You are so much more than ‘a good decision’ for me. You’re the only decision. Marry me, Y/n.” Those were the words you’d been yearning to hear all this time. 

“Yes,” you said. Then you pulled Renjun in for a long, beautiful kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tight like you would never let go. 

“You taste like shitty Malibu,” you said, through the tears. 

“So do you – for some reason,” Renjun replied, making you both chuckle. 

“So,” you said, sitting him down on the couch next to you. “I’m going to ‘ask’ you to choose between two wedding venues, but I want you to remember that there is only one right answer…” 

This might not have been the proposal you had dreamt about, but none of that mattered. Because it came from Renjun. And he was the only person you would ever want. 

—

MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[elizais]

arguments and make ups

when he realises he fucked up,, -dazai x gn reader warnings: nothing too specifically mentioned that you are arguing over

proper fallouts with dazai were uncommon. little bickers were bound to happen yet this had spiraled a little from something you just wanted to ask about. you were asking a genuine question over god knows what, it had been a long day for the both of you and sarcastic answer after sarcastic answer had put you both on your last straws.

stood in the kitchen, he was still joking around and it was frustrating. he's a man too smart for his own good, yet he hadn't realised that you were tired and didn't want to drag anything on. sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose for a moment and looked at him.

"no, osamu, it's not-" you spoke, yet he only heard those 4 painful words. you don't call him that. you don't call him osamu. you call him 'samu or something sweet only he can hear. he became instantly lost in his own thoughts, staring off into space and you saw he wasn't listening to your point.

groaning, you walked into the bedroom. neither of you even remembered why or when this started. he stood there, knowing his sweet nothings wouldn't get him out of this situation. he should have just given you the answer straight up and not wind you up like he would for amusement any other day.

nobody ever called him osamu, at work he was dazai, chuuya called him an array of insults and at home he was 'samu. for someone so clever, and who always has a plan, he would have never planned to upset you. his mind began a competition of what voice inside his head could say 'no' the loudest to every possible solution he came up with.

if he was thinking rationally, he would have known you just wanted two peaceful minutes after a stressful day. he waited until he could hear you turn the shower on before quietly leaving the house after taking some leftovers out of the fridge for you to see when you come out to eat.

he wandered up and down yokohama's streets a little, feeling regretful. he knew you wouldn't hold a grudge but he wasn't going to forgive himself. you always treated him so well, never making him feel like a 'demon prodigy' or half of the 'double black' duo, and you unknowingly proved odasaku wrong. he always thought of how oda's words that claimed "there is no place in this world that can fill your loneliness" died the moment he met you.

osamu checked the time, thinking he should head back. he knew it would take more than a silly keychain of toro inoue to save his case yet he still bought one as he passed a corner shop.

arriving back home, you walked out of the bathroom door as he took off his shoes. he quickly shrugged off his coat and rushed towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline with a whisper of "give me 5 minutes, love." and hurrying to the bedroom and bathroom to get changed and have a shower - knowing it will boost his chances of getting you to cuddle with him as he apologises.

scrolling on your phone on the couch, you heard soft footsteps plodding over. a man who resembled an ashamed dog with his tail between his legs carefully sat down next to you. not looking up from your phone, you could feel his sorrow radiating off of him.

"darling, you know i-" you cut him off, "'samu, it's just been a long day." you responded calmly, looking up at him before a faint smile tugged at his lips. he could tell you were feeling better and wrapped his arms around you. falling down so that his back was laying on the couch and holding you on top of him.

"i'm sorry" he sprinkled in hundreds of times through peppered kisses on your head. giggles filled the room as he wriggled you around, smiling and forgetting about a silly frustration.

whoops!! accidentally forgot this is a blog with silly little fanfictions - consider this an apology pretty pleaseeee also: sorry for not chatting with my mutuals recently! life got in the way and shit hit the fan for a second!!

[fanaura]

can you write an nsfw where there’s like this ‘mating ritual’ where when a two na’vi want to mate the male must earn his woman by being able to successfully catch her/hunt her down as she runs away and tries not to be caught? so in this nsfw neteyam is hunting his soon to be mate and there’s lots of teasing but eventually he catches her and they mate? love your writing x

STOP THAT IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA Y'ALL ARE JUST TOO CREATIVE FOR THIS WORLD OMG

yes ofc i can!! and tysm i appreciate it xx

pairing: neteyam x omaticayan!reader - aged up (23 + 22)

content warnings: sexual content, queues connecting, p-in-v, neteyam being an experienced boi caused he's older and KNOWS his way around the bedroom, slight breeding kink, this ritual is completely fan-made as far as I'm aware!! I'm only following from what this person has written.

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Your feet thudded on the soft dirt floor of the forest as you ran through it, dodging and weaving tree stumps and the smaller animals of your home. The faint smell of sweat hung in the air from the effort, the sound of Neteyam's breath expelling and inhaling in ease, his strong body staying close behind you.

You sped up as you ran past a bend in the path Neteyam had been chasing you through for the past 10 minutes, as a part of the People's mating ritual. It was very traditional and slightly outdated, but with everything you and Neteyam had been through in the war with the Sky People, you wanted to make a big fuss over the mating, to make it special.

Since the time of the First Songs, it was the option for a male and female about to mate to begin The Hunt; a mating ritual in which the female was to run from her partner, until they caught up to each other, where they then mate for life. Again, some would call it silly. But after Neteyam's fierce and horrific encounters with death throughout the war - all you wanted was something to commerate it.

He was gaining on you - drawing closer and closer as you got more tired, legs aching and heavy - anticipation also causing you to decelerate. Neteyam's warrior frame stayed steady compared to your singer's body. While some females chose the path of warriors, healers, hunters, you chose to sing. Singing the words of Eywa was honourable, and made you feel closer to her and the People, but it didn't bless you with the powerful musculature others had developed. It made you feel so guilty during the War, when you had to stay back and sit around worriedly in missions because it was more dangerous for you than useful. You were a liability.

The thoughts were a useless spiral, so you shook them away, right as Neteyam reached you and wrapped his arms around your waist and tackled you to the dirt ground.

"Nete-YAM!" you squealed as you tumbled and he began tickling you.

"Stop!" you breathe-screamed in between giggles.

"What was that? Keep going?" He said, relentless. One of his large hands held both of yours together as he kept going.

"Neteyam! You skxawng!" You screamed again, abs hurting as you panted.

He was also smiling, but he let go of your hands and rose, so he was on his knees as he pulled you up as well. The grin had now softened, his eyes boring into your very soul, every thought, every movement, every heartbeat.

In an unexplained unison, you both reach behind for your queues, eyes still focused on each other with bated breath.

"My Yawne," my beloved, he mumured so quietly you almost couldn't hear him. You both brought the tips of your braids together and watched as they made Tsaheylu.

"Neteyam," you breathed out the air you had been holding in your lungs, and he gasped, eyes fluttering. He groaned and put his head down on the crook of your neck, heaving.

The swell of everything; his soul mixing with yours in a swirl of heat and love and passion, all blending together in harmony, like the ocean meets the sky and the earth meets the rain. A compliment, a perfect fit.

You lightly grabbed his face, bringing his lips to touch yours, heavy and full of lust.

Neteyam ended up on top of you again, but this time his face was sultry and focused. He kissed your cheek, your neck, your lips, and continued down. He worshipped you. The valley between your now bare breasts, your stomach, your thighs, and the bundle of nerves sitting in between them.

It wasn't like you both were inexperienced in any way. There were stolen moments over the years throughout the chaos of war, a silence in the midst of a storm. It had given you both the opportunity to learn and experiment with each other, which had allowed you to figure out what you liked, and the same for Neteyam. But you couldn't deal with him taking it slow now, not when all you wanted to do was touch every inch of his body, to calm the overwhelming feeling of everything swirling inside you. You knew Neteyam was only going painfully slow because he knew this, and he felt the same.

"Tease," you huffed, grabbing his jaw desperately and kissing him fiercly. He chuckled, kissing you back.

"You want it, do you?" He asked in between kisses. You whined, arching into him.

"Nuh uh," he said, pulling back and going to speak in your ear, his voice and breath in your ear sending shivers down your whole body.

"Use your words," he said, left hand dragging up your torso and breasts, drawing lazy circles that turned you to jelly beneath him.

"I want you inside me, Neteyam," you choke out, just as his hand reaches the wetness between your legs.

"Oh yeah?" He moved his loincloth and your own, positioning his cock right at your entrance, again teasing you even as you clawed at his back and tried to pull him closer to you, craving contact. He resisted.

"Yes. Neteyam- please," you said tremulously.

"Well, since you used your manners..." he brought one of his hands down and guided himself in you, the thickness of him stretching your folds, as he had done many times before, but has never ceased to drive you mad.

He started off painfully slow, moving in and out of your wet cunt. You moaned, planting both hands at the back of his neck so your foreheads were touching.

"Faster," you whispered, and he obliged, pounding in an out of you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your eyes fluttered closed. He was kissing your neck, and you knew you would be left with purple marks on your already blue skin.

Neteyam groaned, a sound that immediately deepend your pleasure, bringing you up higher and higher to reach your peak.

"Come on," he said your name while he moved in you, you writhing and grasping at anything to hold on to.

"That's it, baby. You're almost there, just a little more for me," you mewled and cried out, finally reaching your climax.

The dizzying satisfaction you felt was drawn out as Neteyam sped up to also reach his addictive high, spilling his seed into your dripping pussy.

[certainlynotasimp]

Could you by chance do a headcanon or a oneshot of miguel with a partner with social anxiety ? ^^

Hello~✨ I most certainly can! As someone with severe social anxiety, I couldn’t help but fall in love with Miguel.

Miguel with a social anxious S/O

My personal opinion about Miguel is that while he can put on a brave face in public, I think he is a major introvert who doesn’t have any friends outside of his spiderman and civilian job.

Having a partner with social anxiety doesn’t really bother Miguel so much as he doesn’t really enjoy activities that would require you guys to be in socially stressful situations.

Walks through the park, movie nights in, moon lit web shooting across the city, and intimate nights at fancy restaurants are about the normal dates he would go on with you.

If you get stressed out about crowds or having to talk to employees at shops and restaurants, he will place a comforting hand on your back and proceeds to order your food for you/ converse with the cashier.

He memorized all your favorite foods from your favorite places so he can order you what you want without getting you overwhelmed.

If you have a bad coping mechanism like ripping the skin off your fingers or biting your nails, he will give you a stern look before taking your hand into his so you’ll stop.

He isn’t too big on PDA, so any touches of affection are more to comfort you and keep you close.

If you have an anxiety attack, he will pick you up, with your consent, and take you to his apartment via Spiderman mysteriously appearing and taking you home.

I mentioned this in the Sunny fanfics, but Miguel has an old college sweatshirt that he used to work out in that he designates as your “comfort sweater.”

He would slip it on you and give you some baby aspirin before taking you to his bedroom. You’ll either cuddle listening to some low volume music or spend sometime talking about old childhood memories.

Afterwards, he will get you your favorite take out and read a book while you watch your favorite movie in the living room.

He may act annoyed with you clinging to him in public when your particularly stressed out, but his hand matching your grip, quietly letting you know that it’s okay.

He only ever lost his temper once with you and when he saw you spiraling into a panic attack, he had to leave the apartment, feeling like he was just ruining your life.

He would come back that night in his spider-man suit, your current comfort food and some flowers in hand. You guys would talk about your feelings and he would apologize immensely. You’re his amor and he can’t stand making you upset.

If you were a Spiderperson, he would be confused on how you could function as a hero with how overwhelmed you can get and is impressed when you manage to handle yourself in dangerous situations.

He wouldn’t be as open about comforting you while working with the Spider Society, but you’ll sometimes feel his hand brush against yours and a nearly silent, “Good job.” As he walks past.

Everyone knows you’re his favorite because he keeps a drawer with your favorite snacks in so you can come hide in his lab when things get too much for you.

He pretends your social anxiety and clingy tendencies don’t bother him, but he secretly loves that you trust him so much to be your comfort. It gives him a bigger head than he already has.

If you needed space from him, he will understand and go focus on catching criminals for a couple of days. Don’t expect Spiderman to keep that promise as you’ll find notes he wrote left on your door and window.

Sometimes, if he’s really worried about you, he might stalk you a little bit. Just a little. He just wants to make sure you get home safe like a good spider boy should.

You’re his little spider so he will do anything for you.

[ghost-with-a-teacup]

𝟐𝐀𝐌 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 ~ 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 '𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭' 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: Everyone has their own coping mechanisms when dealing with stress, their way of simply forgetting whatever was happening in their life, at least for a moment. Yours happened to come in the form of baking in the late hours of the night as you tried to ignore your worries for Simon as he was on his mission.

OR

You bake at 2AM as you wait for Simon to come home.

Warnings: None! Only the fluffiest of fluff, you know the drill.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Notes: This definitely didn't come to mind as I myself was baking at 2AM, no! Never! (side note, the cookies and cinnamon rolls came out great, hehe). Anyway hi, this is my first time writing for Simon, recently fell down the COD rabbit hole and all so apologies if anything is off. Aside from that, this is just a short lil fic that started off as a headcanon that spiralled out of control. Happy reading my lovelies!

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You're up late at night, again. Not that you could help it, thoughts were flying through your head at just about a million miles per minute. About how worried you are about Simon on his mission, about what could have happened to him, if he was uninjured, healthy, safe. It was like this every time he had a mission, and yet every time it became no less difficult. Being a part of an elite task force was an honour yes, but with honour comes the dangers of being placed on the most difficult of missions. And while even though you were at home, safe and sound, it scared you, the unknowing of what could happen to him. But more than that, you missed him. More than anything.

So to get your mind off of all the 'what-ifs' in your head, you bake. All sorts of things, cinnamon buns, apple pie, those lemon crinkle cookies you knew Simon adored so much. Following a recipe step by step to ensure a lovely end product managed to distract you at least for a bit, until you were left to your own devices once more after it was done. But it acted as salvation while it lasted, allowing an escape from the dark corners of your mind.

✧

Music fills the kitchen as you hum along, measuring and mixing ingredients as you swayed to the beat.

Your focus is entirely on what's in front of you, the task was for getting your mind off of Simon after all, so unbeknownst to you the door opens as the one person you were trying to distract yourself from comes home.

He walks in almost silently, there was a reason his callsign was Ghost, and drops his gear down by the entrance to go in search of you. It wasn't difficult, the lights acting as a pathway straight to where you were, the music going along with it. Stepping quietly, Simon makes his way over to the kitchen and for a moment he just stands leaning on the doorframe watching you flit about. An impossible fondness fills his eyes and chest as he does, you being so in you element always left him feeling that way. You doing anything really with him being there to witness it, because it means that he's finally home, at long last. But any place he could call home, so long as you were a part of it.

Once you finally stood still for a bit, mixing a part of the recipe, Simon makes his way over to you. Without a word he wraps his arms around your waist as you let out a gasp of surprise, tensing for a moment at the unexpectedness before relaxing once more as you realize who it is. In an instant the bowl is forgotten as you turn in his arms.

"Simon," you say softly, a smile overtaking your features as you return his embrace.

"Darling," he says, tone matching yours as he gazes into your eyes.

Nothing more needed to be said, he was home, and that was enough.

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Notes: And done! Just a really short fic, I think maybe even the shortest I've ever written, but sweet nonetheless. I hope you enjoyed!

[hannyoontify]

april showers bring may flowers - choi seungcheol

member | seungcheol x gn!reader

genre | hurt with lots of comfort, fluff??, established relationship!au,

word count | 2k

synopsis | when that time of year rolls around, seungcheol is reminded yet again why he loves you so much

warnings | mentions of death of unnamed character, lots of crying, mentions of breakfast, a couple kisses, cheol is grieving a lot

notes | do yourself a favor and DON'T listen to dk's cover of betelgeuse while you read this bc writing this while listening to that on repeat did smth to my heart

Seungcheol can hear you shuffling around in the kitchen from his bedroom, most likely preparing breakfast for him and the thought alone made his chest tighten. He knew that today wasn't any easier for you than it was for him, but the way you always put him first and prioritized his needs made him feel guilty but also grateful at the same time.

Laying an arm over his eyes, Seungcheol tried to ignore the dull, throbbing pain in his chest as he thought over what the day's itinerary would look like. He would eat breakfast, then get changed. You would then drive the two of you to the– Seungcheol could feel his throat closing up as he choked back an audible sob. Just thinking about visiting him was too much to bear. He heard your footsteps heading towards his bedroom and Seungcheol wiped his tears away in a hurry–just as you quietly entered his room.

"Cheol? You awake?" You asked in a soft voice. Seungcheol heard you padding over to his side of the bed, and he glanced at you with misty eyes. You were wearing a plain white top and beige pants. Bright, just like he had requested.

Seungcheol felt his lower lip quiver and immediately noticing this, you cupped his face with your soft hands and wiped away his tears that were now flowing like a steady stream, leaving a wet trail on his cheeks. Seungcheol let himself cry into your arms, his mouth crying bitterly into your shoulder as he gripped your arms tightly. You simply sat there, alternating between rubbing small circles and patting his back. Your own eyes welled up with tears as you heard your fiance sob and you tried your best to blink them away, but a single tear managed to escape and rolled down your cheek.

Once Seungcheol managed to calm down a bit, you brought his face up so you could look into his eyes. They were bloodshot and glossy, glinting and glistening in the dim light of the distant living room. In a different context, you would've described his eyes as shining and full of youth, but there was an unspoken sadness hiding under the brightness that made you think otherwise.

"I think this is gonna happen a lot today," Seungcheol mumbled. That made both of you crack a small smile and you pressed a light kiss to his forehead.

"That's why I brought four extra boxes of tissues with me. Don't worry, I'll catch every tear that falls today," You said with a quiet chuckle. "Come outside once you're ready, I made breakfast."

Seuncheol muttered out a small 'thank you' and watched you leave the room first. He had no doubt that you would catch every one of his tears. You've been doing exactly that for the past five years, ever since the accident.

The two of you were only a couple weeks into a new relationship when the sudden news of his best friend's death sent Seungcheol's life into a downward spiral. Anyone else would've been overwhelmed with the situation and asked to end things, especially since you had only met him recently, but not you. You were more determined than before to stay by his side and lend him a shoulder to cry on, should he ever need one. You became his pillar of support and Seungcheol doesn't know where he would be in life right now if you hadn't stayed with him.

Watching you from behind, he felt another pang of guilt in his chest. You were so perfect, why would you choose to stay with a mess like him? He was lacking in so many ways-

"Cheol, my love?" You called out.

"Yeah?"

"No need to feel guilty, okay? I'm doing what I'm doing because I love you," It was almost as if you read his mind. You sent him a reassuring smile. "I made a choice to stay with you all those years ago and I'm not backing out of my promise. Not today, not ever. Okay?"

Seungcheol could feel another wave of tears welling up in his eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too."

The car ride to the graveyard was mostly quiet with the exception of a few strings of curse words that would leave your mouth whenever there was an 'idiot driver who probably peaked in high school'. That helped bring a small smile to Seungcheol's lips.

Once the two of you found the specific grave mound that belonged to Seungcheol's best friend, you wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder as he stared at the mound of grass that held the body of his friend of almost 25 years.

A violent sob racked through Seungcheol's body when he saw a fresh bouquet of lilies that he recognized as Soonyoung's. He must've visited earlier.

When Seungcheol's legs gave out under him, you helped soften his fall as you went down with him. Your arms remained firm around him as he cried into your shoulder, his quiet sobs speaking volumes of the pain that he was feeling. Your love clung onto you, holding you so tightly like you would also disappear if he let go for just one second.

You rubbed small circles on Seungcheol's back as you made soft noises to soothe him, your chin resting on the crown of his head. Once you thought he had calmed down a bit, you opened your mouth to speak.

"He would be so proud of you, you know. So proud of how far you've come in life. You might be crying but I'm sure he's smiling down on us right now," You mumble. You could feel Seungcheol trembling in your embrace and you resume making soothing noises.

"He spoke so highly of you before we met, I thought he might've been the one with a crush on you," You chuckled, reminiscing how your favorite senior was so ecstatic to set up his best friend with his favorite underclassman. "He really cared for you, my love. He cared for you so much."

Your fiance's cries only got louder. He wailed into your shoulder, the entire area now damp from his tears. Seungcheol silently cursed the universe, he cursed any and every deity in existence for taking his best friend from him. Oh, the things he would do to bring him back. He was willing to spend every penny of his life savings on his medical bills if it meant that he could be ablive. Seungcheol would've done anything and everything if he knew that he would lose his best friend in a matter of months.

You watched a lone tear drip down his cheek and drop to the grass below you, and you were reminded of something you told him five years ago.

"I need to stop crying," Seungcheol whispered to you. Almost everyone had left after the burial, heading back to the funeral home where dinner was to be served. You shook your head and patted his back. "At this rate, I'm gonna flood this place with my tears."

You cracked a small smile at his joke and pressed a kiss to his temple. "You can cry all you want. You can flood this place with your tears because you know what they say, right? April showers bring May flowers. The tears you shed now are gonna have beautiful flowers blooming in its stead because this too, shall pass. It may seem like everything is doomed and your life will never get better, but I promise you, everything does get better. After a long period of adversity and hardship, good things will always follow. And I'll stay with you through it all.

"I promise."

You knew it was okay to move when Seungcheol let out a shaky breath, one that usually signified that he was either done crying or ran out of tears to cry. Once he pulled away, he began apologizing profusely because his tears had soaked entirely through the fabric of your white shirt on your shoulder but you simply laughed.

You fixed his bangs with a warm smile and pressed a kiss to his lips. "I'm gonna go clean the other graves, you go ahead and talk with him."

Seungcheol felt his heart physically ache. This was one of the many reasons why he loved you so much. You were here to grieve, on his behalf, but here you were, cleaning and weeding the graves of strangers. When he asked you once why you always cleaned the graves of people you didn't know, your answer was his deciding factor for proposing to you (indirectly, he didn't ask you to marry him at a graveyard like soonyoung thought he did when cheol initially told him)

"Why do you clean the graves of strangers?" Seungcheol asked. The two of you were sitting on the grass, drinking makgeolli and watching the sun set behind Seoul. You looked over at him with a confused expression that said 'What do you mean?'

"I mean like- I don't know, I think it's just so... selfless. Like we're here to grieve, cleaning other's graves is the last thing on my mind if I'm being honest," Your then-boyfriend winced at his own words. "I sound horrible."

You couldn't help but laugh. "No, you don't sound horrible. It makes sense why you would think that way. Everyone's here because they have a reason to, I don't think anyone visits graveyards for funsies." Seungcheol nodded at that. "But if I don't, who will? The only thing the landowner does is mow the grass every other week. I think they deserve more than that.

"Especially the graves who no longer receive visitors. Their families may be living too far away or they don't have any family members or acquaintances to remember them and visit them. I think something as simple as weeding their area and pouring them leftover alcohol would mean a lot to them."

You shuffled in your spot to turn and face your lover. He looked at you with bright eyes that were slightly puffy from all the crying earlier that day. "Imagine this. You're living abroad for whatever reason, so you haven't been able to visit his grave for years. You feel so sorry because you can't take care of it like you used to, but one day, you return and see that the grave is still in a pristine condition, almost the same way you left it all those years ago. How would that make you feel?"

Seungcheol slowly nodded, as if he began to slowly understand what you meant. "I would be happy. And grateful. Because his grave wasn't neglected while I was gone."

You nodded back at him, happy that he understood. "That's why I clean other's graves. In case a situation like that were ever to happen. Through a small action like brushing away dead leaves, I could bring a smile to someone else's face."

Watching you in the distance, Seungcheol began to talk to his old friend. He gave him the latest updates on the happenings of the friend group, as well as his recent promotion. His eyes never let your frame as he talked, observing as you bent over to pull out a few weeds that you had spotted.

"We're getting married, you idiot," He said with a soft smile. "Thanks for introducing me to the love of my life. I really owe you one. I was gonna have you be the best man, but I guess I'm gonna have to stick with Soonyoung. [Name] is-"

Seungcheol's words got caught in his throat when he saw you waving over at him with the brightest smile on your face and a couple wildflowers in hand. The wind blew your hair past your face, whipping it around dramatically. You looked so beautiful like this, full of love and smiles. He couldn't believe he was the one to call you his, forever.

"They're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

[gold-rhine]

Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body. 

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded. 

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice. 

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him. 

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held. 

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

[malteeze]

[ in my arms, you're an angel ] - megumi fushiguro

genre: angst/ comfort

description: after yet another rough day, megumi comforts you

megumi knew of the unnecessarily harsh words, tense environment, and uncontrollable feeling of incompetence you had to endure each day. not a day goes by that you don’t feel like a hindrance. he finds it increasingly difficult to watch you come home each day with the same droopy and spiritless expression on your face. he just couldn’t seem to understand why anyone would want to torment such a good-natured person. in all honesty, it’s not like you provoke these people or even give them a single valid reason to heap pain and suffering onto your life. despite your undeserving disposition, they treat you poorly without hesitation anyway. as a result, megumi has witnessed your bright and amusing demeanor gradually dissolve with every strenuous day you’ve endured. it’s almost as if a tiny bit of yourself is brutally snatched from you every time you set foot in that dreadful place. it destroys him.

as you arrive home after another taxing day, you slide your shoes off and shut the door behind you silently. every evening, you always try your hardest not to disturb your boyfriend with your arrival; after all, you know he has a demanding job, too. after half-heartedly slipping off your jacket and hanging your belongings, you trudge your way towards the couch, plopping yourself down quietly. 

‘why am i even sitting down,’ you think quietly, ‘there’s still so much i need to do.’ 

allowing these thoughts to interrupt your momentary relaxation, you quickly gather the motivation to head towards the laundry room. your expression lightens as you notice megumi already moving some clothing into the dryer. “hey, baby,” he says softly after noticing your presence, “i knew you planned to do laundry after you came home today, but i wanted you to be able to relax.” your mouth falls open slightly, then you smile, touched by his sudden affectionate favor. you could honestly cry. megumi often tells you that he cannot stand the way you’re treated at your job. you can tell by the way he looks at you every evening you walk in the door; he can never conceal the way his jaw clenches with anger as he imagines the pain you’ve felt. 

“megumi,” you start, “this is too much. thank you.” 

you can't summon a way to describe the overwhelming feeling of gratitude you have towards your boyfriend in the moment. 

he chuckles at your polite display of appreciation. “what are you thanking me for? i should thank you for always coming home and continuing to work hard after a rough day.” 

you beam at his words. he is truly the only person who makes your endless, tiring efforts feel recognized and appreciated. whenever you fall into a seemingly infinite spiral of agony, megumi helps you to regain your vigor effortlessly. 

“you know, megumi,” as you speak, he gazes at you with his full attention, and his eyes hold a gentle enthusiasm, “this week was especially rough… so i just want you to know how much i appreciate this.” 

once the last syllable leaves your mouth, tears begin to trail towards the brim of your eyes. the ever-so-observant boyfriend he is, megumi immediately takes notice of this, and steps closer to you in a gentle manner. “(y/n), you don’t have to hold it in when you’re with me,” his gaze is so intense that you hardly even register the trail of tears sliding down your face. “it’s so hard to watch all your happiness fade away everyday, and it’s even harder knowing that there’s nothing i can do about it while it’s happening.” his large hands slide up and down your arms, then he places them underneath either side of your jaw. “but the very least i can do to help is be present in each moment, so it doesn’t become unbearable. let me help you take some of the weight off your shoulders, i can’t stand to see this side of you.” 

you briefly avert your gaze from his, the burning sympathy in his eyes making it difficult to maintain eye contact with him.

 “talk to me baby,” he says as he moves his hands to your shoulders, sliding his thumbs back and forth to offer you more reassurance. 

when you return your eyes to his, any bit of emotion you were holding back comes pouring down. he pulls you towards his chest with a soft thud, one hand resting on the back of your head, and the other resting on your hip. “i just don’t understand,” you begin, as you lift your arms to wrap around his body. “i don't understand what i ever did to any of those people to deserve to be treated this way,” 

megumi squeezes his eyes shut, slightly furrowing his brows at the pain seeping through each of your words. he’s utterly heartbroken by your display of such raw emotion. “i try my best to be friendly and kind with every single one of them, and i always go out of my way to be helpful even though my job is already so difficult, but they still treat me like i’m worth nothing.” you continue to cry into his chest, being muted by the close proximity. 

“they’re all a bunch of pathetic losers.” 

you can’t help but giggle at the bluntness of your boyfriend’s statement. 

he’s seething with anger upon hearing these things, but your slight laugh quells it a bit. “as much as i want to force all of them to treat you like the angel you are, i know i can’t actually do it.” 

he pulls you back to admire every detail of your face and watch the sadness fade from your eyes. “but, i know i can help you forget about the stress you experience everyday, and i can help you remember that you’re the most amazing thing to ever exist in this world.” 

you smile, genuinely flustered by your boyfriend’s loving description of you. he grabs your hand, and slowly runs his thumb over your knuckles.

“it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to worry about it when you’re with me.”

[asumofwords]

Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series 4/4

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Pining, kiss, angst, anxiety, fingering, smut, pussy eating like a champ, creampie for days, creampie, longing, dirty talk, love, fluff.

Note: Good lord, this is a long one, and also the final chapter! It's sitting at 12k words, so settle in for a hefty piece because I refused to cut it down or into two. Thank you all so much for your love and support of this mini series, I have had so much bloody fun writing it! I hope you enjoy how I have ended it, and hopefully now I can do some one shots for once in my damned life hahaha. Anyway, enjoy!!! <3

Final Chapter: Inevitable Ends, New Beginnings

The first thing that you noticed as you woke was a soreness between your thighs, a dull ache that throbbed with your heart beat, eyes slowly opening to the early morning light.

The room had a light blue glow to it, the sun only just beginning to rise over the sea and lands behind you, casting your little sanctuary in a cerulean tint. 

The second thing that you noticed when you awoke that morning was that you were alone.

You turned in the sheets, eyes surveying the room in search for the silver head of hair you had grown accustomed to seeing almost every waking moment, but he was nowhere to be found, though there was evidence of his presence being there.

Bar the small marks on your skin, the smell of him in your sheets, and the soreness between your legs, your clothes that had been strewn on the floor were now neatly folded on your chest at the side of the room, and the lack of breeches and tunic told you that Aemond was already up and dressed.

A moment of anxiety crawled through you.

Had he left you?

But then you remembered that he had no way off of your island, unless of course he swam, which you very much doubted he would be desperate enough to escape you to do that. But then there was the reason for his absence that early morning that began to spiral out of control in your mind.

Had he slipped out of bed? Tiptoeing as quickly and quietly as possible to not stir you from your sleep because he regretted last night, and could not bare to face the shame and embarrassment of seeing you? 

Had your moment of weakness tainted his stature in society? 

Would he beg that you tell none other? 

Not that you knew anyone from where he was from, but still, the inferiority of your birth gnawed at your conscience and creeped through you like the bitter sea winds.

Did he get his fill and was now avoiding you at all costs? 

Was he repulsed in himself for laying with you? 

Did he wish to pretend that it did not happen? 

Was his early departure to find the time and wherewithal in himself to gather strength to not feel ill upon looking at you? 

Sure, men of his breeding were sometimes known to lay between any woman’s legs, but it was usually one of equal standing and not at all someone of your status. And if last nights activities were any reference, there was no doubt within your mind that he had in fact lain with women before, once, twice, more, if his skills were any indicator. But perhaps they had been Ladies of his court back home, women of good breeding in high society, and for him to have been with you, well that would be akin to rolling in the mud.

You pulled yourself from bed and dressed yourself nervously, shaking your runaway thoughts, fingers stumbling over your buttons, pulling hastily at the laces of your boots, all too tight for your feet to be comfortable.

When you walked into the living space, you found that the glasses and whiskey had also been put away, no longer on the table where they had been left that evening, and atop the coal stove sat your kettle, steam rising from its nozzle. 

Beside the door, your large coat was hung on its hook, and the hook beside it, which had recently held your fathers old coat, given to Aemond to keep him warm on the breezy island, was now bare. At the absence of the coat, you knew that Aemond was to be outside, and decided to go out in search of him. 

Perhaps he left early to see what he could salvage of your boat, desperate to rebuild it himself and risk another encounter with the waves in an effort to get away from you. Or perhaps he had-

You walked to the lighthouse, the only place he could possibly be besides the beach that was empty with few planks of wood and what remained of his ship that hadn’t been re-swept out to sea.

Dew covered your boots, kicked up from the soft strands of grass with every step you took. The air was cold, and as you breathed, a cloud of your breath puffed in front of you, white and soft that dissipated before your eyes just as quick as it came. 

The large door to the lighthouse creaked open, and then clunked shut behind you, echoing up the spirals of stairs, no doubt alerting him to your presence. You slowly began to make your way up the never ending steps, the only time in your life in which you had dreaded it and found each one to be harder than the last.

Would he run?

Would he scorn you for seducing him? Bewitching him? Tempting him?

Or would he let you down gently? Telling you the dispiriting truth that you both knew; That he was a Lord and you were not of good breeding, and he would have to go and be wed to his advantageous bride that awaited him back home, and that laying with someone like you was a grievous mistake indeed.  

Your heart beat in your chest rapidly, gut churning as you picked at the skin at your nails nervously. 

When you got to the top of the lighthouse's small landing where the lamp was held, you spun in search of him, spotting the figure of the sailor, bent over the small desk in the corner, quill in hand. 

His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, tied together with a piece of ribbon from one of the bags of food William had delivered to you. You watched as his hand moved swiftly across the page of your log book, pointer and thumb delicately holding the quill as ink pressed into the parchment with a neatness and precision that could have only be attained from proper schooling.

Hearing your approach, Aemond lifted his head to face you. Stray strands of silver hair hung in front of his face, swiftly tucked behind one of his pale ears as he gazed at you.

A small smile pulled at his lips, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

All anxiety, all worries, any trepidations about his reaction after your coupling from the evening before were swept out the window when he stood straighter, smile pulling wider at his lips.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” He placed the quill in its holder, leaning down to the book to blow at the ink gently before he took a step toward you, “You needed the rest.”

Be still my beating heart.

You smiled at him shyly, watching as he came closer towards you, hand twitching at his side as though it longed to reach forth and close the gap between you.

But it didn’t.

“You should have woke me.” Your hands clutched each other tightly in front of your skirts, embarrassment licking at your neck. How could you have ever doubted him?

Aemond shook his head at you, “No need. You have already taught me what needed to be done.” He turned to face the table again, picking up the log book to hand to you, “I’ve logged the weather for the morning. Checked the lamp and oil reserves. All is well.” 

You took the book from him, watching as his finger reached to graze yours gently, sparks flying up your arm. His writing was neat, swift and soft loops pulling in a slant as he correctly and proficiently logged the winds, skies, seas and temperature. There was not a thing missing, and he had even written note of his predictions of the weather for the rest of the day.

He stepped closer towards you, heat radiating off of him, “Besides, it’s only fair since I spent the night teaching you something new.”

Heat rushed to your face, hands clutching the logbook tightly as you looked away nervously, hearing his soft chuckle before his head dipped, hands coming to grasp the log book from your own, fingers purposefully covering yours, “Do you want to double check my work?” He asked softly.

You shook your head underneath him, stepping back, letting him take the log book from you to place back on the table, “No, I trust you.”

At your words, a softer smile pulled at his lips, before he held his hand out in the direction of the stairs, “Shall we? You’ve not eaten yet.”

“How did you-“

“-You would have seen I was gone and come straight for me. You’re a naturally curious person, and no doubt had a myriad of questions or things to say. I wondered if you would have felt some sort of fear to wake up alone after what we did last night.”

Heat rose in your cheeks again, and you cursed yourself mentally for ever doubting him, for ever doubting yourself, “I thought perhaps you would have made a mistake. You are a Lord, and I-“

“-You are far more than what you believe. I have not met anyone quite like you. Your birth and rank mean nothing to me.” Aemond’s hand reached forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, warmth spreading through you at his words.

You couldn’t look at him, casting your gaze down to your hands as your eyes prickled with tears. How could he be so kind to you? How could he be so understanding? So calming? 

As your thoughts began to race away from you again, Aemond uttered your name, causing your gaze to raise to his.

“Stay with me. Do not let your mind run away from you.” His seeing eye flicked back and forth across your face, the other unmoving, “Come. Let's eat.”

-

Aemond had walked with you by your side back to your cottage, and together you ate your breakfast, talking quietly to one another, through the initial shyness that swallowed you, about anything and everything you could to avoid talking about the evening before and what it meant for you, and despite his obvious desire to discuss it, he did not push the conversation and allowed the pace to suit your needs.

And that was how your days passed, not quite dismissing what had happened, nor acknowledging it outright like before, but knowing that it had changed the space between the two of you. The dynamic had changed once again, the way you began to dote on each other changed, or more so, him doting on you more romantically.

For every morning that passed, you would wake to an empty bed to find him in the lighthouse before the sun would rise, logging the weather and checking upon the lamp. Even times where he would stir you from your sleep in the middle of the night as he left to keep an eye on it, or telling you to take rest and go to bed if you had been with the lamp in the late hours.

What was more, was that Aemond no longer slept upon the small couch, and nor did you, the both of you comfortably sharing your bed together in the cold of the night. At first you had been nervous, but Aemond had behaved as though the two of you had slept in a bed together for years, simply telling you that the two of you should retire for the night and sliding beneath the covers, opening the other side for you to crawl in after. 

Your initial thought at the behaviour was that he wished to dive between your thighs again, to lick and suckle at the crux of your legs or thrust himself between them, but not once had he pushed for it, or been untoward, in fact, he seemed to open the possibility of a second time to be entirely under your control. 

Not that he didn’t touch you, no, he would slide behind you and tuck you beneath his chin, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you close to him, lips pressing featherlike kisses atop your crown when he thought you had fallen asleep, fingers tracing your curves with a featherlight touch during the night.

The shift was not only different for the dynamic between the two of you and your new living arrangements, but different in your own duties. No longer did the work of the island consume your every waking moment and thoughts, for now you had time to sit, to read, to get a good nights rests and spend more time attending to smaller more menial tasks, like repairing clothing that you usually wouldn’t have time to, or cleaning the cottage throughly. You also felt yourself smiling more, laughing more, enjoying life and what Aemond brought to it. 

It was simple, nothing extravagant of course, but above all, content. It was in those quiet moments when he would tell you a tale of sailing or more sanitised story of his youth, small smile on his lips, did you realise that you were happy. Happier than you had ever been, and in every hour that passed spent with him, a warmth within grew. 

A warmth for him grew.

It wasn’t until you had insisted that Aemond sleep the early morning and for you to tend to the lamp did you realise just how much time had passed. 

You were up the lighthouse on the circular gallery that it had outside, leaning against the railings as you looked out at the water, watching as the dark blue waves rocked softly against the cliff below, and even more gently towards shore, which was slowly becoming illuminated with the sun. But that was not all that was illuminated.

There on the rocking waves, was a row boat, off in the distance, making its way towards you.

It was not an unfamiliar boat, nor was it manned by an unfamiliar man.

William was rowing towards your island, reprieve supplies in tow which he delivered on time, every time, but this time you had forgotten what day it was, how much time had passed since he last came, too preoccupied with the new and exciting presence that had landed upon your beach. 

With swift steps you made your way down the spiral case and sped to the cottage.

What would William say when he saw Aemond?

Would he be shocked?

Would Aemond be compelled to leave?

Would William send word to Aemond’s family and alert the town, thus speeding up Aemond’s farewell?

You selfishly didn’t want him to leave, and almost wished William had forgotten about you, just this once. And there it was, that ache in your chest once again at the thought of him leaving, at the very real knowledge that he would leave, and that you would be alone once more.

When you entered the cottage, Aemond was seated at the table, cup of steaming tea in his hand with another in front of him at your seat waiting. 

Waiting. 

He was waiting for you, with fresh tea made. 

Your eyes welled with tears before you swallowed them down, a lump in the back of your throat forming. You almost didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to see the excitement light in his eye in knowing that he could go.

That brilliant violet eye, a colour you had never thought to be true on a person until you saw him, a colour in which made your heart fill with warmth and stomach full of flurry, looked up at you, smile at the ready until he saw your anxious demeanour. 

Your shifted on your feet back and forth before pulling your coat off to hang at the door awkwardly. 

Sensing your anxiety, Aemond straightened in his seat, “What is it?” His smooth timbre crackled in the air, your back facing him as your face crumpled.

You swallowed and steeled yourself as you turned to sit with him at the table, pulling out your chair opposite to him as you sat quietly, grasping the hot mug in your hands.

“Is there another storm coming?” His voice wavered as he asked, lingering fear of storms still clawing painfully in his mind. The visions of the waves, the darkness, the screams of his men, the water entering his lungs, the-

“A man comes.” Your voice pulled him from his memories, fingers tightening on the sides of the mug, “William. He brings my reprieve.”

Aemond’s silver brows pulled into a frown, “You sent word of my presence.”

It wasn’t a question. 

It was an accusation. 

“No.” You shook your head, and watched as he visibly relaxed, “I wouldn’t have sent word unless you asked. William brings my reprieve every fortnight or so. We have been so busy I,” You gnawed at your lip, “I forgot. I thought we would have had longer, but now I suppose when he comes, you can go with him. Take lodge in his home.” You sipped the hot tea to swallow your nervous rambling, but still it broke forth, “I have a friend, a fellow sailor. Dalton Greyjoy, he could take you close to home, another port, anywhere to help. I don’t have money to pay for your passage, but he likes me well enough to perhaps do me this one favour. Or mayhaps you could offer gold on your arrival, I’m sure-“

“-You wish for me to leave?”

“No. But I know you must.” Your heart clenched in pain, you lowered your gaze to the mug of tea in your hands, watching the steam slowly rise from it, “You have a family waiting for you, worried for you. I do not wish to keep you here knowing that I may be causing you pain, or your family pain in the unknown.”

If you had raised your eyes to meet his, you would have seen Aemond frown lightly, but you didn't, so you hadn’t.

“You do not keep me here, and my family are not of your concern.” A beat, “Nor mine.”

Silence wrapped around the both of you as you refused to meet his gaze.

“When shall he arrive?”

You swallowed, looking at the small clock on the mantel, “Within the hour.”

Aemond nodded in your periphery, chair scraping beneath him as he stood, “Excuse me.”

His footsteps echoed on the stone flooring as he made his way to the door, pulling your fathers coat onto his shoulders before he left, no doubt waiting at the small alcove or beach to watch William arrive. 

You stared at the clock for some time, watching as the minutes ticked by, arm moving across its face slowly. But now that he was gone, away from seeing you, you allowed yourself to feel the ache that had crashed inside of you. Tear after tear fell down your cheeks silently as you watched the clock, the heat of the mug that lightly stung your palms, slowly but surely turning cold. 

He would leave, and you would be alone. 

Alone. 

Again. 

And he would leave and marry another.

Not you.

It shocked you that the thought of him laying with another, holding another tightly to him, caressing her, kissing her, smiling at her in ways that only you had seen thus far, made your stomach feel as though a knife was twisting itself inside. The lump in your throat sharp as though a dagger had been thrust through flesh and sinew, obstructing you from swallowing or breathing.

It felt as though you were losing him again. 

You didn’t know why, you couldn’t reason with it, for you had never known him before, but that day on the beach, as he lay lifeless in the sand, you had lost him. 

And then he had come back. 

And now he was to leave once more, and no more would he laugh in your small four walls, nor would he wake you with tea, or twist in the sheets beside you. 

No more would his hand linger upon yours, or his lips, or-

As another tear fell, the door to the cottage opened, and your hands quickly swiped up the wet tracks left behind on your cheeks. Rapid steps moved into the room as the door clunked behind.

“Your friend has arrived.” Aemond breathed, looking at the redness of your eyes and un-wiped tears on your chin. 

You swallowed, that dagger still lodged in place and nodded your head to stand, averting your eyes from his as you brushed down your skirts, “I suppose then I should fare you well.”

All that you could hear was the crackling of the fire and the beat of your heart thundering in your ears. You knew if you looked up at his face, to look into his lilac eye, to gaze upon his soft lips and sharp edges, that you would fall apart.

And so you didn’t, keeping your eyes averted to the corner of the room near the fireplace, wishing for it to be over. Wishing that he had never washed ashore so that you wouldn’t have to bear the heartbreak of him leaving. 

Because that’s what it was, you realised in that moment. 

Heartbreak.

“I’m afraid I will have to ask for your generosity once more.” Aemond breathed, and you blinked, slowly raising your eyes to meet his. His seeing eye searched your face as he breathed heavily, “I feel I may be succumbing to illness. I am falling- I feel,” He swallowed, “I feel compelled to stay. If you’ll have me. If not for a while longer.” His chest rose and fell visibly beneath the coat, hair cascading over his shoulders like waves of water.

He wished to stay?

Here?

With you?

Aemond blinked at your silence as his shoulders slumped slightly. He shook his head, looking to the floor, “Forgive me. That was too much to ask of you-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “No, not at all. If you,” You swallowed thickly, “If you feel unwell and compelled to stay, who am I to cast out a Lord in need?”

Relief washed over the two of you, and an unspoken air of gratitude floated amongst the space. You fought the urge to smile, to laugh, to jump with joy at the prospect of him staying longer. Of wanting to stay longer, of the thought that perhaps staying here with you was better than the prospect of going home to his family. 

His previous words echoed in your head.

Let me stay dead a while longer. 

Was this his staying dead a while longer? Avoiding his duties that awaited him when he returned home?

“Will you tell William of my presence?” His voice broke you from your revere.

You blinked.

Would you?

“Did you wish for me to?”

“No.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, “Then I shall not tell William of your presence.”

Aemond shifted on his feet, before nodding, “Thank you.”

You gave him a hopeful smile in response.

-

William arrived not too long after your agreement with Aemond for his extended stay, and hidden presence. You watched on from shore as he pulled his boat up the sand, his warm eyes crinkling at the sight of you.

“Y/n, my girl!” He called out to you, trudging up the sand to you as he pulled you into a tight embrace which you returned heartily, head tucked against his chest. 

Ever since your father had passed, William had become a father figure to you, but he had always been like that. Or at least like an uncle, a man who cared and loved you just as much as he did his own. You considered him family, and he considered you one of the same.

“How have you fared? We worried for you with that storm." His hand gripped your shoulder tightly, "Celia was beside herself with worry, pacing about the fire each night. Thought she would have burnt a hole in the floors by the end of it.” He chuckled, pulling away to look you over as you smiled up at him.

“As you can see, I am alive and well. The sea did not swallow me this time round.” You smiled, and turned to help him pull his boat further up the beach to unpack the supplies.

“Not all were so lucky,” William cast a glance to the remaining debris from Aemond’s ship, “Large pieces of hull washed ashore, we worried the ship had run aground atop the lighthouse.” His voice grew morose, “A few men washed up on the beach, but none survived the storm.”

You nodded solemnly, pulling a large bag of flour from the row boat as you lined it up on the grass with the others, “Debris landed here too. The ship sunk just off of the horizon in the thick of the storm. The sea took all.”

William hummed sadly, “Unbelievable storm that, not even Lord Greyjoy had seen a storm so large. Did any find their way here?”

You straightened, heart beginning to race in your chest. You swallowed and carefully thought of your next words, “One. Though he succumbed to waves like the others.” 

The lie made you shift uncomfortably. You didn’t want to lie to William, but you didn’t want to go against Aemond’s wishes either.

A large hand grasped your shoulder and tightened softly, “There was nothing you could have done. We saw the lighthouse day and night through the storm and thats how we knew you were safe. Celia dragged me to the beach in the rain to make sure it was on as proof of your wellbeing.”

You nodded, “It would take far more than a storm to stop me or the lamp.”

William chuckled, a crackly laugh that was familiar and warm, “Don’t I know it. Now, are you going to make this old man a drink, or do I have to beg for one.”

You laughed at his words, picking up the sack of flour and other bags of food and supplies, leaving the large crates for him to carry, “Come on then, before the Gods take you.”

-

After doing multiple trips and talking along the way, the cottage was now filled with supplies and food for the next fortnight. Flour and dried meats and other items were strewn on the counter and in the kitchen, leaning against the walls and shelves, whilst small jars of pickled foods and jams made by Celia were neatly lined in a small crate on the table.

When the two of you had begun to drop the supplies into the cottage, you held your breath, hoping that Aemond had made himself scarce and out of the way as you came in and out. Thankfully, your bedroom door was for once closed, and you assumed Aemond was keeping himself quiet inside. 

William sipped at the warm tea you made him as he seated himself in the chair that had become Aemond’s, long stocky legs stretched out in front of him as he rubbed a knee with a hand, working some invisible pain or injury out of it.

“Place looks good,” William commented, eyes roaming across the room, “You’ve been busy.”

You hummed in reply, lifting the mug to your lips. 

If only he knew. 

But William’s gaze stopped by the door, eyes locked onto something as he wordlessly stared. 

Shifting in your seat you turned to face it, stomach dropping. 

Beside your empty hook, was the other.

And hung on it, was your fathers old coat.

Aemond’s coat.

Your head turned back to look at William, mouth opening and shutting as you tried to think of an excuse, as you tried to think of a way to explain as to why there was a man’s coat hung on your door when you had supposedly been alone. And as you opened your mouth to explain yourself, to make up some poor take of an excuse, William beat you to it.

“I miss him too.” His voice was lower than it had been before, “Did you keep all his belongings?”

Your heart pounded in your ears, and a pang of grief moved through you. 

Your pa.

He thought you had his coat out because you missed him.

And whilst you did miss him, you were thankful that that was what William thought of it, and not that there was a man living with you, currently hiding in your bedroom. Though, that would be a hard thing for William to believe, even if you told him.

You nodded, “It seemed a waste to be rid of them.” You sipped your tea, wondering where this conversation may lead you. 

William gave a gruff sigh, “Do you not get lonely here? You’re all on your own. A woman your age should have a companion, someone to talk to at the very least. A cat even.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you suggesting I marry someone? I have my pigeon, but she’s not very talkative.”

The sea weathered man raised his shoulders, “You’re not getting any younger.” His words irritated you as he continued, “Not that you’re not capable of doing this on your own.” He explained, watching as your eyes narrowed on him, “You’ve proven yourself more than capable for that. I just,” Another sigh, “I know this isn’t what your father wanted for you.”

“Wanted for me?”

“He didn’t want you here, trapped. He wanted you to see the world, to go out and meet someone. He hoped you would settle down, start a family. He did not want to bear the burden of the lighthouse onto you.”

You looked down at the table, “It’s not a burden.”

“I know.” He said, but it didn’t sound as though he believed you, “But how often do you get to do things for yourself?”

You gave him a small smile, “I am perfectly content here, I don’t see why I should have to marry.”

“I’m not saying you have to, I’m merely suggesting the option.”

You hummed, “Well, not many men would like to live this life, nor are they prepared or knowledgable enough for it.”

Except for Aemond.

William laughed, crows feet becoming deeper, “I know you think men are a burden, if not a waste of ones time, but you never know, one may just wash ashore and change your perspective.”

Your breath stilled in your chest.

Did he know?

“What about Greyjoy?” William clicked his fingers, “The Dalton lad.” “His eyes always looks for you when he comes to town. Asks after you; Where you are, who you’re with, what you’re doing. Nice lad.”

“Nice enough.” You shifted uncomfortably, “But his heart belongs to the sea, and he would scarcely be home. What life would I live raising a child with a father who blows in with the tide? Not to mention, he has, shall we say, fleeting affections for others.”

William snorted, “I wouldn’t say his affections for you were fleeting, but aye, he is a man of the sea through and through. And those Greyjoys are known for their whoring.”

You guffawed, “William!”

“What?” He looked at you incredulously, “I speak the Gods honest truth. He wouldn’t be my first choice for you, but Celia-“

“Ahh.” You leant back in your chair, “Has Celia been playing the matchmaker of late?”

The older man grumbled, “When has she not? She tried to suggest Edmund Pyke-“

“-The fish mongers son?”

“Aye.” William shook his head, “Meek young man, too meek for the likes of you. I told Celia you’d eat him alive.”

A huffed chuckle fell from your lips, “Not much to devour. If I remember correctly, he stands half your size. Quiet boy.”

“Indeed. Always a shock when you hear him speak, like a mouse’s fart.” The man teased, draining the rest of his tea in one gulp, “But a man like that is no match for a woman like you. You need someone who can take what you give.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “I doubt any man would be worthy of you. You are so very much like your mother; kind, soft.” A grin pulled at his lips, "But then you are frustratingly stubborn like your father and argumentative to a fault. And Gods awful at making tea.” He grimaced.

“My tea is perfectly fine, thank you very much. If it is so horrible for you to drink, then perhaps you should make yourself scarce.” You bit the insides of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling, and William did the same, until finally he burst into a howling laugh, hand on his stomach as his head bent backwards.

“Oh no,” He grinned, standing with a grunt and pop of his knees, “I don’t worry for you marrying a man, I worry for the poor soul who will have to marry you.” 

You stood to meet him, “Then you needn’t worry, for I see no husband on the horizon by the name of Greyjoy or Pyke.”

William raised a brow, “Just those names then?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, “Be quiet, you.” You smacked him on the chest lightly, letting him pull you in for a final hug.

-

Slowly you walked William back to his boat, chatting quietly amongst yourselves as you went to shore, helping him to drag it down the sand to the water, the little vessel swaying in the small waves, the sun slowly beginning to set in the horizon.

“Now you take care of yourself, you hear me? Come to town and visit when the weather is fare. The girls would love to see you.”

You nodded, promising to come soon, hugging him once more on the sand. 

William took one final gaze at you, eyes searching your face with an almost unreadable expression to it, “You’ve changed.” He pushed his boat further into the water before sitting to face you, rowers in hands as his boat rocked side to side on the small waves, “You’re lighter. Brighter. Before the storm you were dull, but now…” His voice trailed off in the wind as he rowed himself backwards slowly, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were in love!” He called out, boat moving away from the beach.

“A good thing you know better!” You called out after him, heat rising in your neck and face as your heart began to race in your chest, “Give my love to the girls!” You waved and he nodded, your feet stepping back to avoid a small wave that dragged water up to your boots, “And tell Celia to stop trying to marry me off like a prized mare!”

“I’ll do no such thing!” William yelled back laughing, before finally he was away. 

-

You stood on the beach, watching the man grow smaller and smaller as he made his way back to shore. Your feet had begun to sink into the sand, damp seeping in through the sides before you decided to return back to the cottage. 

When you entered, your bedroom door was open, and Aemond was in the kitchen, pumping water in the dry sink to wash the two cups and put them away. As he heard your approach he turned his head toward you, though not fully.

“He seems a decent man.” He stated softly, hands scrubbing the tea from the cups.

You smiled softly, “He is. I grew up with him. Always visiting me and pa whenever he had the chance. And when pa died, he became a father to me.”

Aemond hummed, “He cares a lot about you, as if you’re his own.” Aemond grabbed a cloth and dried the mugs placing them back on the shelf, “It’s good to see decent men being decent fathers.”

You nodded and smiled. You knew from what Aemond had told you that he did not have a good relationship with his father, and you were more than fortunate to not only have one, but two father figures in your life who had been nothing but loving to you.

And whilst you thought of memories of your pa and William, the air in the cottage shifted.

Aemond dried his hands and turned to face you, his posture stiff, face pulled into a hard line, “You didn’t tell me that Dalton was pursuing you. You would let me leave on his ship with him without saying as much?”

There was something in his eye and the way that he spoke that made you shift on your feet nervously. 

You began to pull your coat from your shoulders, “Pursuing is an exaggeration.” You lied to yourself, “Dalton has no desire to ask for my hand, nor has he ever expressed any desire. His family are Lord’s. He himself is a Lord. His family would never approve of my-“

“-But he wants you.” Aemond said lowly, stepping forward, looking down at you from his nose, “Desires you. I heard William say that he seeks you out, asks after you. It’s clear there is something there between you.”

Your brows furrowed, “Do you make a habit of listening in on others conversations? There is nothing between me and Dalton. I have known him all my life, and to this day nothing has happened. He is scarcely in town, always on the seas exploring new lands, new women. His interest in me is purely physical, I assure you.”

“And is it reciprocated?”

You blanched, blinking up at him, “Reciprocated?”

Aemond’s jaw twitched as he looked down at you, “Do you desire him in the way he desires you? Do you wish for him to touch you?” His voice dropped lower as he stepped towards you, hand coming to tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at the skin of your neck, “To taste you?”

You couldn’t think. 

Couldn’t breathe.

Stuck to the floor as you looked up at the silver haired man whom you now realised was jealous. 

His lilac eye had darkened as he looked down his nose at you, sharp features illuminated harshly by the fire behind him. His lips were pulled into a stiff line, and his chest rose and fell shallowly.

“Well?”

You blinked again, and cleared your throat softly, “No.” You whispered quietly to the room, watched as his brows furrowed in disbelief, “Once I had.” You admitted watching as his jaw ticked, “But that was before I met you. It feels a long time ago, and it was merely a passing thought, one bred by the desire to not be alone.”

At your words, Aemond seemed to relax, his lips softened and brow evened out, though his jaw remained clenched, “And are you alone?”

Your head cocked to the side.

Alone?

But he was standing right with you.

Right in front of you.

“No?”

Aemond huffed a small humourless laugh at your response, clearly you had misunderstood him. 

“Do you feel lonely? With me here?”

You licked your lips, feeling the warmth of his body come closer as he stepped forward, fingers at your neck sliding to the back, tangling themselves into your hair as he pulled you closer. His mouth was a breath apart from yours, his eye on your lips as you heaved uneven lungfuls, waiting for your answer.

You tilted your head upwards, lips brushing against his softly, the feeling sending warmth settling into your gut as you chased his embrace. But Aemond did not let you close the gap, and moved his lips away, awaiting your answer yet again.

As soft as a whisper came your answer.

“Not anymore.”

Aemond’s lips met yours as soon as the words left your mouth, chasing yours in a heated kiss, the hand at the back of your neck tangling in your hair tightly as he pulled you impossibly closer, other arm wrapping around your waist to pull you against him, almost lifting you onto his own feet. 

His lips felt like a breath of fresh air, a fire within you set ablaze with each passing moment. You chased after him as much as he chased after you, your hands desperately pulling his tunic closer to you, neck craned up on your tip toes to reach.

The sailors hands came to the front of your dress, teeth nipping at your bottom lip causing you to gasp. His tongue took advantage of your parted lips, licking into your mouth at the opening. You moaned warmly, feeling his hands pause at the buttons at the front of your dress. You nodded sharply, not willing to part from him to verbally give an answer. 

With practised ease, he began to pull at the buttons one by one, slowly opening the front of your gown. When it was finally undone down to your navel, you parted for air, a wave of realisation crashing over you.

“The lamp.” You breathed breathlessly, rearing your head back to look up at Aemond, night had begun to fall outside.

His eye was half lidded, pupil expanded across the lilac, and a soft pink dusted on his cheeks, “Already lit.” He mumbled before crashing his lips back against yours. 

You made a startled squeak, and wondered briefly when he had had the time to go light it in your absence. But any lingering questioning you had were lost when his large hands scooped under the front of your collarbones and up to your shoulders, slowly sliding the gown down your torso, freeing your arms as he went. 

He stepped back to look over you, goosebumps rising on your skin as his heated gaze roamed over your breasts and body. His lips were pink and swollen from your embrace, and the pupil of his eye expanded.

Feeling a spur of confidence, you undid the small belted laces at the back, letting the heavy dress and skirts fall to the ground beneath you in a puddle.

Aemond was on you in a second, the room tilting as you were suddenly picked up, legs automatically wrapping around Aemond’s hips as he hungrily kissed you, all teeth and tongue and impatience, neediness bleeding through the both of you in a rush of desire.

It was as though wildfire had caught in the space between, and it burnt at you both hotly, the flames licking higher and higher on your bodies, an all consuming need. 

Your need for him burnt.

“Bed.” He murmured into your lips, speedily walking to the room before he dropped you onto the bed with a bounce.

You gazed up at him through your lashes and watched as he pulled his tunic from over his head with one hand in one swift movement, your eyes roaming down his lean body.

Pale littering of scars were on his chest and arms, and your gaze moved lower still to the trail of hair that lead to what was beneath his breeches, the memory of it causing your core to clench around nothing.

Aemond breathed heavily looking down at you before he pulled you to the edge by your feet, a squeak rising from your chest as he loomed over you. 

With haste, Aemond unlaced your boots, throwing them away alongside the stockings he rolled down your legs impatiently. Then came your stays, which did not survive his large, weather worn hands, which tore the laces from their holes, ripping the material at the seams. 

You gasped loudly as he did it, not truly knowing the strength he had hidden, which was then smothered by his wanting mouth, body climbing on top of you as he kissed and nipped sharply at your lips with his teeth, hips pressing down into your own as he ground into you.

Heat settled in your gut with each thrust of his hips, his hardening length brushing against your sensitive pearl each time, sending shooting sparks of pleasure up your spine. The kiss consumed you, heat rising in the room as the both of you gripped and pulled at each other desperately, Aemond only breaking the kiss to pave a path down your neck, stopping every so often to suck or bite at your flesh, marking you which caused you to mewl beneath him. 

He sunk lower and lower on the bed, pulling up your slip with his hands as he settled between your thighs once again, your hands gripping the sheets of the bed as you looked down at him. His eye was already on you, watching your face as he breathed cool breaths against your bare core. 

You whimpered as he blew air onto it, cold on your throbbing bud as he smirked up at you, “Sīr lōz.”, He cooed, swiping two fingers gently up your slit, parting your folds.

A finger pressed down on you, watching with delight as you squirmed beneath him. You bucked your hips up towards his lips shyly as he blew against you again, smirking at how you whimpered and writhed, desperate to alleviate the ache that had been building within since he captured your lips with his. 

“Is something wrong?” Aemond smirked, rubbing his fingers through your folds, but never quite touching you were you needed him.

“Please.” You whispered, hips seeking his fingers desperately.

“Please, what?"

You shut your eyes tightly, embarrassment coursing through you, "Please, Aemond."

The man chuckled gently, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him, watching as your eyes opened to look down at him again.

"Syt ao? Mirros.”

Aemond ducked his head between your thighs, hand on either side of your thighs, holding you open for him as he licked a wide stripe up your centre, tongue flicking against your bud.

Your back arched from the bed, eyes screwed shut as pleasure shot through you. The Targaryen moaned into your folds, beginning to lap at them hungrily, thumbs holding you open for him so that he focused on your pearl. 

“Iksā sīr vok syt nyke.” Aemond groaned, two long fingers finding your entrance, slowly beginning to push inside of you. 

Your breath hitched as they entered, immediately curling up to the soft spongey spot inside of you that he found last time, memorising each and every inch of your body and the reactions that you made when he licked, sucked, pressed or rubbed against it. 

The sounds he made as he lapped at your core was filthy, depraved, and down right ravenous, moaning into your cunt as pleasure wound tightly in your belly, his ministrations slowly but surely pulling you towards the edge, no doubt assisted by his low rumblings in his mother tongue.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao.” He gasped against your thigh, watching his fingers disappear inside of you as he began to fuck them at a faster pace, wetness coating your thighs and the bed beneath you “Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry,” He kissed at your thigh looking up into your eyes with an intensity that made the breath in your chest still, “Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon.”

Your hips bucked, one hand releasing the sheets to card through his hair, his lilac eye momentarily shutting as you pulled lightly at the strands, a hum vibrating his chest, “Common tongue, please.”

“More tongue?” Aemond responded cheekily, eyebrow raised at you, and before you could quip back, he was back to using his mouth on you, sucking your pearl into his mouth as his fingers did not slow, the tension in your gut about the break. 

“Oh.” You breathed, mouth open, “Oh Gods. Oh- fucking Hells.” Pleasure raced through you violently, and a long pealing whine flitted from your lips as you reached your peak.

Aemond sucked your bud into his mouth as he flicked his tongue against it, fingers fucking inside of you speedily through it, the wet squelching of your release loud in the room with each thrust of his hand. Your grip in his hair tightened and you pulled, still falling from the precipice he had brought you to, a deep grunt vibrating into your already sensitive core. 

“Aemond- Nng- Please. Slow down.” You whined, writhing as the pleasure soon turned borderline painful, too overstimulated to function.

With a final broad wipe of his tongue, the silver haired man ceased his movements, allowing for your body to finally slump into the pillows, a light sheen of sweat covering you. 

Your eyes slid shut as you huffed a laugh, whimpering lightly when he pulled his fingers from within you. Aemond placed wet kisses to the top of you mound, your hip bones, and then to your stomach which he revealed by pulling your slip up your body. 

Only did your eyes re-open when he kept lifting the slip up over your breasts, his mouth coming down to capture a pert nipple in his mouth. He rolled it with his tongue, teeth lightly holding it in place as he slotted his hips against you once again.

You moaned, hands sliding down his sides to his breeches which were still very much on his hips.

“Off.” You breathed, tugging at his pants, his mouth releasing your nipple with a soft pop.

“Patience, byka perzys.” Little flame, Aemond chuckled, shifting to drag his breeches down his legs, kicking them off the bed along with his boots. 

When he laid back against you, his hands moved to your shift again, pulling it over your head, leaving the two of you bare before each other once again. His head dipped and captured your lips, the taste of yourself on his tongue tart and musky.

Swiftly, Aemond used his thighs to part your own, moving them over the top of his as he lined the hard tip of his cock up with your soaked entrance.

Without pause, Aemond slid inside of you, catching your gasp in his mouth as you stretched around him. There was only the slightest of stings this time, your body far more relaxed than the first time.

The head of his cock pressed against your cervix snugly as he pushed to the hilt, the feeling of fullness spreading within you and up through your gut. You don't think that you could ever get used to such a feeling, such an all encompassing fullness that would forever shock you.

Aemond didn’t wait to give you a chance to adjust, and began to thrust himself through your silky walls immediately, sparks of pleasure beginning rippling up your body. A large hand held your hip, whilst the other buried itself in your hair, tilting your head further back for him to dive his tongue into your mouth, flicking at your own as you messily grabbed and kissed one another.

Feeling yourself begin to jolt up the bed, you lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling him deeper and closer to you, desperate whine moving through you as his hips clapped against yours.

It was frenzied, fiery, and with each smack of his hips, you felt your wetness spread against his thighs and hair at the base of his length, his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive nub.

“Sīr ȳrda.” He moaned, head dipping into the crux of your neck, hand on your hip skimming to the globe of your ass, squeezing it as he fucked you harder, grunts spilling from his lips growing louder.

“You feel so good.” You whimpered, hands clawing at his back sharply as you felt a familiar coil within begin to wind again, “Please.”

Aemond raised his head to look down at you, your gaze meeting his. With his thumb, Aemond began to swirl small, wet circles into your pearl, accelerating your oncoming release. The lilac of his eye looked almost black as he lowered his voice to you.

“Take it from me.” 

Pleasure coursed through your veins. Blinding white heat pummelling through you as you reached your peak below him.

“There you go.” He cooed, watching as your release crashed over you.

Aemond tumbled over the edge with you with a cry. Your nails dug into his back as he sped up, looking down intently, mouth slack as he watched you come apart from below, not once breaking your locked gaze.

His forehead pressed into yours as he slowed, the throbbing of his length inside you and warmth of his spend filling you causing a smaller wave of pleasure to race through you, your walls clamping down onto him. Aemond hissed before coming to a stop, the both of you panting heavily, bodies going slack, the weight of him on top bringing you an odd sense of comfort.

Carefully Aemond rolled off of you, his cock sliding out from your sensitive walls as he lay on his back, pulling you into his side to tuck your head beneath his.

You curled into him immediately, as though you had done it a million times before, fitting perfectly at his side. You wrapped an arm around his middle, lifting a leg to hook over his hips, which he held and sooth his his hand. 

Your entire body was buzzing with the after mass of your release, limbs feeling heavier than they once were. The two of you sweaty and satiated, whilst small little huffs of joy breathed into the space as you both fell into a comfortable rest.

 -

Another week goes by, and soon enough, it had been almost a month since Aemond washed ashore on your island. 

Almost a month since the largest storm you had seen raged across the horizon and into the headlands.

Almost a month since you had nursed a man back from death and back to the living.

Almost a month since your heart began to grow fond of the man. 

Almost a month since you had grown content with Aemond’s presence. 

Things had changed again, not in any negative way, but things became more passionate, more heated, more tender.

Aemond would touch you whenever he could, hold you whenever he could, hand pressed against yours. Lips to yours, or your cheek, or forehead, and his his hands would seek you in gentle caresses that would set you alight and wanting for more.

And he always gave you more.

He seemed to be insatiable, never quite getting his fill, and whatever he had awoken inside of you was equal in fever. 

You noted that his personal preference was to be between your thighs, lapping at your folds whenever he could, pulling peak after peak from you whether on your bed, or the couch, against the table or walls or doors or kitchen bench. And even, on one occasion, in the lighthouse, pressed against the bricks with a leg hitched over his shoulder. 

Aemond never seemed to get enough of it, always insisting on it before he would sink himself inside of you. You had asked him why once, and he had flushed, stating that it was to prepare you, but when you had asked again, he said that there was no greater sweetness in all the lands he had travelled to than your, so eloquently put, cunt. 

Not that you minded, in fact, it began to be a favourite pass time of your own. 

When you had woken that morning, it wasn’t to your usual bodily clock, rising before the sun after years of habit, but rather to the warm and wet sensation that prodded and swiped between your legs.

You rose with a moan, and then a deeper one as you found Aemond between your thighs kissing your centre like a man starved. It didn’t take him long to get you to reach your peak, and when you had, he had smiled almost smugly, and stated that that was all he needed to eat for the day.

But the newfound intimacy and exploring each others bodies wasn’t all that you enjoyed in your shifting tides together. Each moment spent with Aemond you learnt more about him. Piece by piece he would reveal new information to you. A new memory, a new story, a new piece of knowledge about the mysterious man that you would itemise and lock away in the back of your mind to create a larger picture of the man in front of you.

You spent hours reading together when not working, for double the hands makes for swift work, and you found that for the first time in your life, you had the ability to sit down, to breathe, to not have every waking moment thinking about the lighthouse and only the lighthouse. And in those moments of breath and thought, you realised how much you truly had been missing out on in life. 

You had thought you had been content alone, but the more time you spent with him, the more time you spent reading or hearing about his own adventures, you realised, much to your dismay, how you longed to do the same. But you couldn’t ever leave, for no-one would man the lighthouse after you, at least no-one you would know to be so proficient. Unless it was William himself, but he had a wife and daughters and a job of his own, and you would never ask him to do such a thing for your selfish wants and imagination.

And so you were content in savouring each moment you had with the sailor whilst he was still there, laughing loudly over whiskey as he told you of a story of his older brother losing a wooden sword match with one of his nephews, or another time in which his brother Aegon had grown so drunk at a family event, that two maids had to assist him to bed, dropping him halfway up the stairs as they went.

You learnt that his sister, Helaena, was a sweet and gentle woman with a soft and kind heart. She had, what he called, a nervous or paranoid disposition, and often believed her dreams that things were to happen, the family taking no notice to her fretting. Though he did note, with an ashen face, that she had warned him once about a danger beneath the eye. 

Had she meant the eye he lost?

Or the eye of the storm which led to his ships demise, and almost his own?

Aemond did not know.

His mother, you learnt, Alicent, was a stern and pious woman, heavily religious and intent on him performing his duties and marrying a young Lady from a neighbouring land. Though at times she seemed to be somewhat overbearing and traditional in his retellings, when he spoke of her, there was a deep fondness in his eye, and it made you all the more disappointed in yourself for having kept him away from them.

During his stay, Aemond kept his promise to you, teaching you what he could of High Valyrian when you had the chance. It was a struggle to start, but you picked it up quicker than you had thought you would. 

He would praise you for your pronunciation, which only led you to want to do better for him, his words of affirmation doing something to your heart and body, which resulted in you mumbling words and phrases beneath your breath every chance you had to perfect them. 

You also learnt that he had an older sister, estranged, not talked about and something that was clearly a taboo for the sailor, but when he did mention her, it was to note that her High Valyrian was more advanced as their father had spent ample time teaching her, but not his four other children.

Aemond was, for the most part, self taught, besides the help of a lone tutor which Aemond noted was poorly. 

Each time he shared a piece of himself to you, your heart longed to go with him, to see the famed Keep where his family resided. To meet his mother Alicent who was such an important person in his life, as well as his sister Helaena. You wished to meet Aegon, to see if he truly was as bumbling as Aemond had told you. 

You wished to see the foods they had, imported from foreign lands you couldn’t pronounce, to walk the Gardens of the Keep, to see the ashen barked Weirwood tree in his Godswood, to try a starfruit, which Aemond had a craving for almost every second day, the shape and flavour a wonder to you. 

You wished to be a part of his life, a part of his family, and a tiny, foolish part of you thought that perhaps you could. But the more rational side knew that it could not be, that you were of low rank, and you could not leave the lighthouse unmanned, and as each day passed with this heavy revelation, came the looming of a dark cloud above you.

-

The fresh scones you had made were still soft and fresh, Celia’s jam spread thickly on top as a treat for the both of you that morning. The cottage was cold, but the heat of the fire radiated warmth around the two of you, a subtle wind whistling past the windows outside. 

Despite the bright mood the two of you had, started by Aemond waking you up between your thighs, that cloud still loomed over the top of you, dread and anticipation of what was to come nipping at you like a hound.

“Celia makes great jam. I should like to thank her one day.” Aemond hummed, popping a small broken piece of scone into his mouth to chew, licking the jam off the pad of his thumb after he swallowed.

You nodded, smiling, though it didn’t reach your eyes, “You should thank her yourself in person. I am sure she would like to meet a real Targaryen.”

His eye searched your face, “One day.”

“But when?” You swallowed, preparing your speech which you had practiced over and over in a loop in your head, finding some way that would make him want to stay, to make him want you.

The silver haired man frowned, placing the rest of his scone on his plate as he sat himself straighter, “When?”

“Yes. When.” The lump in your throat grew larger with each passing second, “You have a family, duties, a life. Your mother must be beside herself with worry and grief, and I fear that I am taking you from that. I fear I am creating pain for you all.”

“Taking me?” Aemond sounded confused, eye swiftly searching your face as you straightened in your chair.

“I do not wish to…force you to stay here, or corrupt you into thinking I could be anything other than this.” You watched as his frown deepened, lips pulling into a thin line, “I cannot keep you here as much as I wish to.”

His frown softened, “You wish for me to stay?”

“Kessa.” (Yes) You said quietly, “But I know it is not the reality we live in. You are a Lord, I am-“

“-Why do you always bring up my rank?”

“Because it means something. If your family found out that you have been here, with someone like me, the talk alone could ruin your potential list of decent wives. Your future. I fear I have already tainted-“

“-Tainted?”

“Yes, I-“

“-Why do you believe yourself to ever be capable of tainting me?” Aemond’s voice was stern, colder than before, as though angry at your words. You looked down at the table shyly, focusing on the scone smeared with jam.

“You do not think you could stay here forever, do you?”

Aemond huffed air through his nose, “I can do whatever I like. Go where I please, see who I wish. For now, my family believes me to be dead, and even if I was known to be hale and healthy, I can still do as I please.”

“But your mother-“

“-My mother,” Aemond began, voice softening, “Will one day come to understand.”

You shook your head, confusion coursing through you, “I don’t understand.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed, teeth pressing sharply against each other before he adjusted himself to sit even more impossibly straighter, “Do you believe in the Gods?”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “Of course. I would not have prayed to them if I did not.”

“Then you must believe the Gods control our paths and fate.”

Paths and fate?

What was he talking about?

“Yes, I believe so. But I don’t understand what the Gods have to do with you needing to go home.”

Aemond took a deep breath through his nose, his hand on the table as fingers flexed and then curled back into a fist, dropping into his lap out of sight, “My ship sunk for a reason. I do not believe that it happened without purpose. I drowned and came back for a reason. You prayed to the Gods to save me, and they did.” His tongue peeked out of his lips to wet them, and your heart began to race in your chest, “The Gods gave me a second chance at life and brought me straight to you.” He shook his head, silver locks falling over his shoulders, “Before you, I was unhappy, but with you? I have never been so content. So… at peace.”

Tears prickled at your eyes, your own hands twisting in your lap, “Please do not say such things to me, Sir. My heart cannot bear it.”

Aemond leant forward, “But it is the truth. And mine own heart cannot bear the thought of leaving here. Of leaving you.”

A tear fell from your eye, sliding wetly down your cheek as you looked at him, his figure blurred in your vision, “You cannot want me.”

“I can. And I do.”

A sob fell from your lips as you looked at him, “This is cruelty, Aemond. You cannot- You can’t- Your family would never allow it. You cannot say these things to me, do not give me false hope. Do not give me reason to believe.”

Aemond's hand lifted on top of the table, palm up, offered to you. 

You looked at his palm, and the soft smooth skin there, and wished to mark it. You wished to mark him so that he could never leave, so that he could never be without you without evidence of you existing.

“False hope would be to say that I could ever leave here with my heart intact.” His hand waited for you on the table, “Please.”

Another tear fell from your cheek, “You cannot want a life like this. You cannot want a life with me. I have no money, I cannot ever leave, I would never trap you here with me.”

“You could never trap me in the first place. I am yours.”

I am yours.

Another sob fell from your lips, chest aching at the thought of losing him, at the thought of him leaving you. That this declaration would be for naught, that he had not truly thought this over, but deep inside of you, you hoped, dreamed, begged the Gods for his words to be true.

Aemond’s hand slid off the table and back into his lap as he stared at you, silence creeping across the table.

“I am just as much yours. Irrevocably.” You breathed, watching as relief flooded Aemond’s face, “But I cannot ask this of you. Not when you lose so much if you do.”

Aemond stood from his seat, swiftly coming towards you where he knelt in front of you, forcefully taking your hand in his as he looked up into your tear filled eyes. His thumb brushed over your knuckles soothingly, his other hand briefly coming to swipe a tear from your cheek before meeting the other that held yours.

“You are not asking me to do anything, byka perzys.” His words came swiftly, eye searching your face as tear after tear fell down your cheeks, “And if you were, I would do it. A thousands times over, I would do it. If you asked me to walk back into the sea, I would do it. For you, I would do it.”

“Aemond,” You shook your head sadly, mouth opening again to argue, but he interrupted you.

“-I want to stay.” His hands gripped yours tighter, “Here. With you. I want to be with you. Always.” He swallowed thickly, “If you’ll have me.”

Your blood thumped loudly in your ears as you looked at him. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t speak, mind going a thousand miles an hour. 

He wanted to stay.

He wanted to stay here.

With you.

“Please do not turn me away. The fate of the seas would be kinder.” His voice cracked, and your heart ached.

There was no turning back, no moving from this conversation without an outcome. 

It all just depended on which path you wished to go. Which path your heart ached for most, and that was for him to stay. But would it come without consequences? Would his decision to stay be a mistake he would come to resent you for? 

You had nothing to lose, he had everything to.

But the way he was looking at you, the way he was patiently and nervously awaiting your answer, watching as tears continued to fall from your eyes, not just out of grief, but sheer overwhelming love for the man knelt before you, offering all that he was, sacrificing all that he had, and for you.

A small smile cracked on your lips, and you watched as his eye became hopeful. Your hand lifted to his cheek, caressing it softly to cup his jaw as you looked him over; his lilac eye, the sharp aquiline of his nose, the way his plump lips pulled sharply at its peaks. Never in your dreams could you have imagined such a man, and never in your life did you think to imagine that a man such as him could be yours.

And it was in that moment that you made your decision.

You smiled, small sobbing laugh escaping your lips as you rubbed a thumb against his skin, feeling the smooth stubble beneath it, “The Gods brought you to me.” You whispered, eyes searching his face for any sign of regret or trepidation, and when you found none, you continued, “Who am I to turn you away?”

And there it was, that full smile that you had grown to love. 

Aemond’s lips pulled widely revealing his teeth as he beamed up at you. 

Never had you felt such joy, such elation inside of you at the sight, your heart feeling as though it became full, a fire settling into your chest raging as it always did with him, for he always made it feel as though he set you alight.

“Avy jorrāelan.” Aemond declared softly with a smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners, lilac dancing with admiration, the unseeing eye reflecting the light of the sun outside like a cloudy morning sky. 

He sat up on his knees and leant forward, face coming towards you before his eye shut, and his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands grabbed his face, and he did yours, diving his fingers into your hair, holding you to him gently as he slowly sought your lips with his own. 

It was not rushed, it was not frantic, but patient, the both of you knowing that you were no longer running on limited time. No longer stealing moments together before the end.

No longer was there a looming departure of his presence in your life, and as though a breeze from outside swept inside the house, the dark looming cloud that had situated itself above you cleared.

When finally did you part, breathless and giddy, a curiosity took over.

“What does that mean?” You questioned, burning desire to know eating away at you, “What you said?”

And there was that smile once more, and you knew in your heart what it meant after that.

“You will know soon enough.”

Translations:

Sīr lōz - So wet

Syt ao? Mirros - For you? Anything

Iksā sīr vok syt nyke - You are so perfect for me

Nyke jorrāelagon ao. I need you

Gaomā daor gīmigon ziry, Yn iksi vēttan naejot sagon - You do not know it, but we are made to be.

Sīr ȳrda - So tight

Avy jorrāelan - I love you

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05 @300nightmare003

[herofics]

One and Only, Always

A/N: I’m not having the best time right now and I wanted to vent so here’s some comfort with Geto. I’m in uni currently and it’s causing me a lot of stress right now, also depression spiral and shit like that basically

“What do I keep doing wrong?” you muttered as you laid on the floor of the bedroom.

You didn’t understand. Everyone else could do it. All your other classmates could go to school, work and take care of their family at the same time. You couldn’t even manage school, and to take care of yourself at the same time. Geto being so busy all the time was kind of a relief, honestly. You were so tired all the time, and managing the relationship was hard, so it was easier when he wasn’t there. You hated that you felt this way. You loved him so much, but being around him, around anyone really, was just extremely tiring.

“What are you doing down there, love?” Geto asked from the doorway.

You hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Thinking… I guess” you answered reluctantly.

“What about?” he asked as he sat down on the floor at the end of the bed.

“Nothing in particular, I’m tired so it’s kinda hard to keep my thoughts in order, so I’m not really sure either” you sighed.

You crawled to Geto and rested your head on his thigh. He was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt. You were so used to seeing him in his monk robes that it was a bit odd to see him looking so casual.

“Why are you home so early anyway? I thought you had meetings the whole day?”

“I wrapped them up quickly, besides it’s not really early, it’s seven in the evening” he chuckled.

“Oh… I knew that”

“What’s going on with you? You’ve been a bit distant as of late” Geto noted.

You sighed, he never missed anything. He didn’t always say something right away, he sometimes observed the situation for days, weeks even, before saying anything.

You pushed yourself up to a sitting position and sat next to him. Geto wrapped his arm around you and caressed your shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

“I don’t know, honestly. I don’t have any good reason to be depressed again. Like fuck, I’ve been in uni for a year, and I’m already on the verge of burning out. I don’t understand what I keep doing wrong, because there has to be something.” you said.

“Oh love” Geto sighed sympathetically.

“I can’t just be this-this broken piece of shit! I can’t just be this useless!” you exclaimed in frustration, banging your head against the end of the bed.

Geto placed his hand between your head and the end of the bed, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, stop” he said kindly but sternly as he forced you to lean your head against his shoulder.

“I don’t know what-what to-to do Suguru. I don’t want to be here if I can’t be useful to someone” you started sobbing.

Geto pulled you into his lap and you buried your face into his chest. You didn’t mean to break down like this. You didn’t want to be a burden.

“You’re not useless love, you’re not. You saved me back when we were in Jujutsu High, if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now. You’re my rock, and my light, the love of my life” Geto said as he peppered kisses on top of your head and embraced you tightly.

He hated seeing you like this and maybe even more than that, he hated that he wasn’t sure how to help. Geto let you cry it out. He held you until your tears ran out and you got your bearings again.

“I’m just so tired of this, I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I want to be able to do things like everyone else can, and not just be left behind every fucking time. If I can’t even do that, then what’s the point?” you said quietly, fiddling with his shirt.

“Honestly, that’s something you’re going to have to discover for yourself. I don’t think any of us get a straight answer anyway, we all have to find our own meaning” he said, looking at you softly.

You met his eyes, those beautiful amber eyes that always looked at you with such love. You searched his expression for any signs of dishonesty, but you never found any, not now, not ever before. His honesty towards you was one of the big reasons you loved him.

“I can tell you this though, you’re a big part of my meaning. I don’t know what I would do without you, I feel like my life would be lacking if you weren’t here” he smiled.

“I love you Suguru, I think the only reason I’ve been able to keep going for this long is because of you” you said and placed your hand on his cheek.

“I don’t think I deserve the credit for that. You’re the one that’s kept fighting and pushing through all the obstacles” he said, moving your hand that was on his cheek so he could kiss your palm.

“But you’re my reason for fighting, you’re a part of my meaning too” you smiled tiredly.

Geto pressed his forehead against yours and whispered: “You’re my one and only, and I love you, don’t ever forget that” before kissing you softly on the lips.

His one and only, always.

[residenthughes]

square one

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.6K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, some angst, leon's dealing with some insecurities (acne) :(

summary: leon's always struggled with acne. a recent flareup brings up more than he bargained for.

notes: think i saw a post about the texture of leon's skin in the re4r, as well as a headcannon that he sometimes picks at his skin and idk, just felt compelled to write this. i struggled (still do) with hyperpigmentation from acne, so this was low-key self-indulgent (and me projecting, sorry leon 😭) so enjoy(?) the fruits of that! one more exam and i'll be active again (in between celebrating any chance that i get that exams are over) hope you enjoy! :)

He feels like a teenager again.

Full of angst and riddled with insecurity. There’s so much curiosity in his eyes, fingers gingerly grazing against the scarlet surface of his cheek with inflamed pimples. Leon thought he outgrew this. Despite the occasional picking at his skin when submerged in the anxieties that live rent free in his mind, his skin remained relatively calm rain or shine. It’s worst was when he was in high school, so awkward and unsure of everything. Redness dotted against his face, he felt like puberty brought out the worst in him, forced him to grow in a body now foreign to him, navigate the unknown territory that were his new feelings. It’s a time that isn’t all that nostalgic for him and when he stands in your shared bathroom, long into his adulthood - 27 years old - staring into his reflection, his life flashes before his eyes. He’s right back where he was. Nerdy and hesitant. 

He feels so small.

“Hey,” your call for his attention is soft, doused in all gentleness you can muster as you quietly observe your partner from the door frame. “You ok? Tea’s getting cold.”

Leon huffs in annoyance, not meaning to but when his eyes catch sight of how inflamed his skin is, it takes him gnawing inside his cheek to stop himself from spiralling. It’s so silly, insignificant even. Leon never really cared much for his appearance as an adult. Reminded fairly neutral in regards to himself, stance never swayed despite those that fell to his feet bewitched by his devastatingly good looks. His stance shifted when you two met. Suddenly, he was a teenager again, but in a good way. Do I smell good? Is my hair ok? Am I overdressed? All these little curiosities combated by the love you embrace him in. He doesn’t become confident - your love is not a fix-all remedy for years of trauma and insecurity. But he becomes more sure of himself, reassured and loved wholly. He picks up his own pieces, slowly but surely. You simply steer him in the right direction. A beautiful thing, a lovely thing.

In spite of this beautiful thing, Leon can get in his own way sometimes. Stares at his reflection too long when he’s been spiralling and simply meets your gaze with a vulnerability reserved only for you. “Skin’s been acting up.”

“Honey,” you approach him cautiously, like he’s made of porcelain and Leon leans into the gentleness without a care in the world. Your hands never make contact with him, knowing any touch might open the floodgates of emotional turmoil that slowly seep into his bloodstream, poisonous and harrowing in nature. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

He grimaces, eyes avoiding yours as he shrinks into himself. “Been a stressful week is all.”

Leon flashes an unconvincing smile, puffing out a beat of laughter that is all but amused. “Guess this is the result of it, huh?”

Your heart sinks. You remember when this came up early in your relationship. You were often seeing each other, whether it was to go out on the town dressed to the nines or lounge around and snack on whatever junk food (of which there was very little in Leon’s apartment) you two could find. He refused to see you, citing long work days and the lack of energy they left him with as his reasons. You respected his wishes, giving him his space and all the time he needed before finding his way back to you. However, you couldn’t ignore the voice at the back of your head, nudging you towards him with pleas of assurance. Reassurance that he was ok and wasn’t deserting you for reasons you could help with.

You bumped into him on his way back from the grocery store.

Against his better judgement, Leon needed to restock his shelves with leafy greens to rid himself quickly of the acne against his cheeks. He knew you were at work, so he took his chance and sped ran through the isles, mask pulled up to his eyes as he simply went about his business. Packing his grocery bags quickly and making big steps towards his car, only to run into you in the parking lot.

He expects you to drop your belongings. Dramatises the whole scene in his head, imagines your face twisting in disgust and murmuring a half-hearted excuse to leave the conversation early to block his number because his insecurities have gotten the best of him and he can’t think any worse of himself than he is now. 

It’s all fiction, the tragic story he paints in his head. Sees you give a small smile, cautious and coy.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he muses, the awkwardness of his predicament leaving him with nothing but the desire for the ground to swallow him whole. “Would have dressed up a bit.”

You laugh a bit, easing the pain but Leon still wants to leave regardless, foot pointed away from you with his body slightly turning towards the direction of his car.

You take note of his body language and make the conversation flow as casually as possible. “Yeah, I got off work early and was actually gonna pick up some things to come see you.”

“See me?” 

“Yeah, think it’s to be expected to want to see your partner.” you joke lightheartedly, eying the tension that leaves Leon’s shoulders as they relax back from his ears. 

“That’s sweet of you,” Leon starts. “But, I’ve gotta head back to the office…printer’s jammed.”

“Again?”

It ‘jammed’ last week. Along with some other atrocities that left Leon MIA all last week and this week too. It’s not too long to question, but the distance between you is growing unlike times before. It unsettles you.

“Can’t work that thing to save my life. So, it’s my obligation to fix it.”

“Leon,” you’re seeing through his act, calling for the denouement to the charade Leon orchestrates. He feels sickly doing this - this isn’t what you deserve, he knows that. But, during one of scarce times in his life that he’s self-conscious, is it so horrible to want to be left alone? “You’ve been a bit MIA recently. You sure you’re holding up alright?”

He questions for a moment telling you. Disclosing his recent flare up because he knows it isn’t a bad deal, especially with you who nurtures a safe space for him to call home. And he does, he goes to tell you, but in a desperate attempt for closeness, you step forwards and he’s stepping back and suddenly there’s a deafening silence between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s ok,” you reassure, time and time again. His heart hurts from the constant push and pull that plagues your relationship. It wasn’t something you had to deal with. “Just talk to me. Please?”

It’s different seeing you like this. Over text, it’s easier (but not impossible) to tap away at the screen and desert his phone, submerging himself in work to fend off any thoughts that attempt to crawl into his brain. But you’re here, right in front of him. Eyes soft and so unbearably honest with your state of being. It tears him up inside. Makes him acknowledge every attempt to distance himself from you and never do it again if the same circumstances arose.

Leon makes the situation right. Approaches you despite the screams at the back of his head and heads back to his apartment with you sitting in the passenger seat, describing the acne flare ups that in spite of the demons he faces on his missions, makes him react like no other. You comfort him as best as possible, listening to every word he says and not bothering with unsolicited advice or shallow comments that won’t help the situation. You simply craft an evening filled with distractions, all his favourite in-home activities whilst showering him with all the affection he’s missed. And when it comes time to wash up and settle into bed, you make light of the situation, giving him one of the Sanrio headbands you had left in his apartment as you two clean up for the night, the space and comfort you give him enough for him to crawl into your arms under the covers and never let go. It’s an act of service, a day, that he’ll never forget. One that allows him to bare himself to you, years later, and let you take the reins because this, on top of the travesties he’s encountered far too often lately, have made him feel like a shell of himself. 

“It’s hard to keep up with everything when you’re so busy, isn’t it?” He nods. “You’ve been working hard, always have. Saving the world isn’t an easy feat, you know?”

He laughs, this time around humoured. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Well, whatever you do,” he laughs again and you can see him slowly coming back to you. You flash him a smile, a smile that holds timeless tales of your love story and his heart begins to warm. “It’s perfectly normal to get some R&R afterwards. It’s well deserved, especially in your case.”

He simpers, now having worked up the nerve to look into your eyes and in them, sees that dazzle. The same dazzle from your first glance, from your first confession. Even at his lowest, the dazzle remains. Your love, unwavering. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, all of which he does when he feels like himself again. Showers you in abundance and more because that’s what you deserve and more.

“How about I run us a hot bath? You can tell me all about the printer jamming whilst I wash your hair, yeah?” 

He feels like a teenager again. This time, abundant in all the love he has for you.

[moralesluvr]

could u write e!42 miles comforting reader when they’re have a panic attack and just overall helping them through it ? you can ignore this ask if it’s too much of a sensetive topic ! (•‿•)

feel better ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: miles comforts you while having a panic attack <3 ♡ warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, mentions of past trauma, think that’s it? ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! as someone with anxiety, this made me feel better <3 ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICED was that it was hard to breathe.

Your breath kept hitching in your chest when you inhaled, warm and sharp air filling your lungs as you gasped out. Then your eyes became sensitive to the light and your head was spiraling, intrusive and worry filled thoughts circulated in your brain like clockwork.

You laid atop your bed in panic, a blossoming heat spreading through your body. The one day that you insisted Miles leave you alone, and that you were ready to finally be by yourself— of course, you have a panic attack.

Hot tears come down your face as you try to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. Everything’s coming back to you all at once, so fast, so quick, it’s drowning you and tearing you apart. Your hands shook as you chewed at your lip, curling into a ball as you grasped your nimble fingers around your phone, quickly tapping your boyfriend’s contact and holding it up to your ear.

The line quickly picks up, “Hola, mami. ¿Estás bien? (Are you okay?”

“Miles…I-I’m having…a panic attack.” You heaved quietly, but it was just perfect your Miles to hear. He doesn’t even wait one second before you hear keys jingling in the background, along with the starting of his car. “Oh, amor…I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

You whimper out a ‘yes’ as Miles flies down the road— you can hear his engine whirring as he does so.

“Baby, I’mma need you to name five things you can see for me. Okay? Talk to me. I’m right here for you— I’m almost there.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, “O-Okay. Um…I see…” you look up, “I see the picture of us…on the wall, my laundry basket, my bag of snacks…um..”

“Come on baby,” Miles urges you, “I’m almost there. Can you give me two more, cariño?”

“I-“

“Hold on, ma, I’m coming in.” You hear him say, the sound of his personal key unlocking your door filling your ears as he approaches your room. The footsteps sound too familiar, though, and you sniffle when he bursts through the door. He looks at your pitiful expression, running over to you and engulfing your face in his palms. “Mi vida…siento no haber estado allí.” (my life…i’m sorry that i wasn’t there)

You can’t even get out a word before he kisses your forehead, sliding onto your bed and pulling you into his lap. Miles placed his thumb underneath your eyes as you fluttered them closed. Your chest heaved against his arm, and he clicks his tongue at you.

“Ma, you’re okay. You’re safe with me.” He reminds you, “Try to breathe for me, yeah? In…out…” You look up at your boyfriend, trying to steady your breathing like he asked. He smiled at you, “Attagirl…that’s it.” He kissed your lips, bringing you close as you rested your head on his chest, facing the wall. You felt your boyfriend’s fingers coarse through your curls as you felt your eyelashes fluttered close. He lulls you to sleep with his sweet touch, “Sleep well, mi princesa.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠��𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨��𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz // @daisydark // @randomhoex // @solanawrld // @whore4hobie // @tanakaslastbraincell // @simp4miguell // @nyrovi3 // @my3tumbles // @aziulsworld // @enchantingfoxsparkles // @mancerseedu // @cafehyunji // @personofyou // @mcdvsr // @kopiivie // @ellatienesuscosas // @venuswash3re // @calliarlerte

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10 // @adoree-kaelynn // @mhadnirb // @mmst4rz // @iris-theflower // @fleurrieerecs // @kenlani // @kala2022 // @ilyless // @milesmolasses

[metamorphesque]

These images of circles and circling, revolving around a great center he names God, it makes me think of the cathedral labyrinths of Europe. Or the ancient spiral glyphs carved into rocks and cave faces. I see the circling pathway around some secret center. The road can be bewildering, twisting and turning, keeping us disoriented and uncertain of how near we are, but ever moving inward.

And that courageous line –

I may not ever complete the last one, but I give myself to it.

We walk the winding path, not out of certainty, but because it is the only path worth walking. Walking that road, quietly, with attention, one foot in front of the other, becomes meditation. It becomes worship. Each ring, whether near or far, is a layer of our lives that is blessed by our passing through it.

Walking the circling path is not only the way to the center, it is actually part of the center. We learn to participate in the center by first walking the path. Obsession with the destination becomes an impediment to reaching it. Instead, by patiently inhabiting each step, we discover the center in ourselves... and our feet naturally end up there, as well.

We walk with our whole selves –

and I still don't know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song?

On this roundabout road to God, we question our own nature. We encounter the mystery of self. Who and what are we really? Ultimately, it is in that questioning of a self that eludes definition where we find the still center.

The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate; and later on, when it "happens" (that is, steps forth out of us to other people), we will feel related and close to it in our innermost being. And that is necessary. It is necessary - and toward this point our development will move, little by little - that nothing alien happen to us, but only what has long been our own. People have already had to rethink so many concepts of motion; and they will also gradually come to realize that what we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us. It is only because so many people have not absorbed and transformed their fates while they were living in them that they have not realized what was emerging from them; it was so alien to them that, in their confusion and fear, they thought it must have entered them at the very moment they became aware of it, for they swore they had never before found anything like that inside them. Just as people for a long time had a wrong idea about the sun's motion, they are even now wrong about the motion of what is to come. The future stands still, dear Mr. Kappus, but we move in infinite space.

Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen, die sich über die Dinge ziehn. Ich werde den letzten vielleicht nicht vollbringen, aber versuchen will ich ihn.

Ich kreise um Gott, um den uralten Turm, und ich kreise jahrtausendelang; und ich weiß noch nicht: bin ich ein Falke, ein Sturm oder ein großer Gesang.

I live my life in widening circles (set me free)

Starry Night (Vincent van Gogh), Widening Circles by Rainer Maria Rilke (tr. Joanna Macy), Commentary by Ivan M. Granger, The Chartres Cathedral Labyrinth, Ouroboros, 1760  (a photograph by Granger), question mark symbol in Armenian, 지민 (Jimin) 'Set Me Free Pt.2', Letters to a Young Poet (by Rainer Maria Rilke), Ich lebe mein Leben in wachsenden Ringen (by Rainer Maria Rilke)