#SHUT UP AND SLEEP PERHAPS??????? no ❤️

[florida3exclamationpoints]

I looooove when my adhd keeps me up all night

[strang3lov3]

Enjoy the Silence

You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position. (5.2k)

That’s Pedro’s bum can you tell I love ass

Tags- pillow humping, masturbation, getting caught in the act, some humiliation but Joel talks you through it, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, prone bone, softdom Joel, little bit of crying (good tears) creampie, let me know if there’s something I missed.

A/N- Thank you to @tightjeansjavi , @notjustjavierpena , and @noxturnalpascal for all of your encouragement on this I know I’m not easy to deal with sometimes AND thank you my dear readers for being patient with me, I’ve been slacking on writing/uploading. I’d love it if you’d say hi to me, I’ve been missing you!! Hope you enjoy this one I’m glad to be back❤️🩷💜💙🩵

It’s too fucking loud tonight. You live with a group of single women in Jackson, all somewhere around your age, a few older, a few younger. You get along well with them, and they get along well with each other. Too well, perhaps. They’ve been talking for hours tonight. Hours. And they talk for hours most other nights too, especially now that the weather is starting to warm up. They’ve been making drinks and playing music, being rowdy. It’s past eleven at this point and they’re still going at it. 

You can’t sleep. The blankets are too warm, but without them you’re cold. You’ve flipped your pillow over what feels like hundreds of times.  It’s just one of those nights. Except every night is one of those nights, it seems. You tried touching yourself to fall asleep easier, but with no success. It’s not exactly the easiest getting off in such a full house. You’ve got privacy in your bedroom, sure. But the walls are thin and sound carries with such ease.

 God, does this suck. A lot of your problems would be solved if you could just get yourself off. You sit up in bed and stare out your window and into the window of the house next to yours. Joel’s window. His lights are off now, but earlier you had caught a glimpse of him getting out of his bathroom. His hair was wet and slicked back, his skin shiny and damp. He’s so sexy, so thick. That’s when you moved your hand between your thighs as you watched him pick out clothes from his dresser, biting your lip and circling your clit frantically as you prayed for his towel to drop. It didn’t. It never does. You groaned quietly in disappointment as you watched Joel walk back to his bathroom and then come out moments later fully dressed, subsequently shutting off his lights and leaving his bedroom. For a moment, with your eyes and your thoughts focused on Joel, you were able to block out all the noise and focus on your pleasure. But then he left and the pleasure vanished. 

You’ve lived next to Joel for quite a while now. More often than not he’s grumpy, keeping mostly to himself and Ellie. He’d usually just glare at you and your roommates. He can be friendly with others, though. 

Once one evening, Joel had spent five minutes knocking at your door to complain about the noise. You saw it coming, you and your roommates had amassed quite a few dirty looks from him in the moments prior. You watched him through the window, glaring at your porch from his own. Your roommates were outside, talking and listening to an old but new-to-you CD. He wore a scowl and his arms were crossed at his chest when you finally opened the door. 

“You ladies are chatty,” he grumbled. “Your music’s hurtin’ my ears.”

“We can be chatty, yeah,” you replied, “But you’re kinda crotchety.”

Joel sighed and rolled his eyes. “I’m askin’ you politely to keep it down,” He turned to leave then, but you tapped the back of his leg with your foot, stopping him, “You could go inside, you know,” you taunted.

Joel turned back around slowly. He looked so big, so broad as he looked down at you. “So could you.”

“Hm,” you hummed. You weren’t really sure why you were arguing with Joel when really, you agreed with him. The CD player sounds tinny and hurts your own ears at times, you can’t imagine what it does to Joel’s damaged ears. And the girls were too loud, other people live around here. But you were annoyed at the way he came over to complain about the noise level when he doesn’t know half of it, how loud it gets. “Fine. I’ll get them to quiet down if you do something for me.”

Joel raised his eyebrows, “Oh, I’m doin’ ya favors now?”

“Something like that,” you said. 

“What do you want?” he asked through a sigh. 

“You’re right, they’re being too loud,” you explained, “You don’t know how loud it can be, actually. I’ll try to get them to quiet down if you let me get some peace and quiet.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, your house is usually pretty quiet,” you began. 

Joel nodded. “Mhm. And I like it that way.”

“And I’ll keep it that way,” you urged. “Please? My roommates are so loud, I can’t even hear myself–” 

“Yeah, I know. Come on,” Joel interrupted. “Let’s go inside, then. Talk to your girls tomorrow.”

Joel led you to his house, opened the door for you and brought you inside. He offered you a glass of water and told you to make yourself at home, so you sat quietly on his sofa. Joel sat on the loveseat next to you. He figured you’d have brought a book or something to busy yourself with, but when he looked up at you after a few moments, you had curled your legs into your chest, laying sideways on his couch. He laughed to himself quietly and laid a blanket over your body, then turned out the lights and went upstairs to bed. You had never slept so peacefully. And that’s how the tradition began, Joel would let you come over to enjoy the quietness of his home. You never made good on his end of the deal, though. Your roommates stayed too loud, but it didn’t matter. You and Joel had found a system that worked for you both. 

Still staring at Joel’s window, you shift your attention towards the direction of Joel’s front door when you hear it slam shut. You watch him stroll away, probably off to drink with Tommy or something like that. 

Your core is still aching, a dull but constant ache. You’re thinking about Joel, unable to get the image of his slick body out of your mind. You’re thinking of the quietness of his house. Peace and quiet would be nice right about now. It’s never this late when you go over to Joel’s. You know you’re welcome over any time. Joel gave you a key to his home when you earned that privilege. But surely he didn’t have that open-door policy for what you’re thinking of using his quiet home for. He wouldn’t know though, right? 

Fuck it, you decide, climbing out of your bed and sliding on a pair of slippers. First grabbing Joel’s key from your nightstand, you exit your room and go down the stairs, going towards the back door where you walk past all of your roommates in the living room who don’t seem bothered or worried about what you’re up to this late at night. The chill of the air bites at your cheeks and your shoulders. You didn’t bring a jacket, but the distance from your back door to Joel’s isn’t a long one. 

You unlock his back door with your key and let yourself inside, scraping any dirt from your slippers on his doormat so as not to track it inside. It’s always quiet, but the silence is almost eerie. It makes you feel uneasy, doubly so because you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be. But you’ll be quick. Joel won’t know, so no harm no foul. 

You scan the first floor, looking for a quiet, comfortable area. Joel’s home looks almost like TV in black and white the way it’s so dark right now. The first floor is no good, you’ll feel exposed. So you walk up his stairs, and your first instinct is to go to his guest room. You spend a lot of time there anyway, when you’re not napping on his couch you’re napping in that room. But he keeps it clean for you, pristine. The bed is made neatly and tailored specifically to his taste. You’d never be able to recreate that, he’d instantly become suspicious.

Across the hall is his own bedroom, not nearly as tidy as his guest room. A clothes pile on a chair, the shade of his lamp slightly off kilter. His bed is made up of crumpled sheets and blankets, the pillows indented from the weight of his head. Joel won’t know a thing. 

You tiptoe into his room, closing his door but the creak of its hinge cuts through the quiet air and startles you. Maybe it’s better to leave it untouched. You make your way quietly to his bed, first sitting on the edge, your feet dangling slightly in the air. You kick your feet a little, letting your slippers fall off. You feel so out of place here, so wrong. Like you’re invading his privacy, but you’re not. Not really. You’re not here to snoop or to do anything wrong, you’re just here to…well.

You lie back in his bed, his sheets are soft and worn, cold on the back of your legs. Their scent fills your nostrils, they smell like Joel. Like soap and his musk, slightly sweaty. It’s almost like he’s here with you. Spreading your legs and dipping your hand beneath your pajama bottoms, your mind starts to wander. Tracing your clit with your fingers, your brain is flooded with flashes of Joel. At first, it’s images of his neck, his forearms, his hands, all the veins protruding, muscles flexing. You’re circling your clit faster as you imagine he’s here with you, that it’s not his bed you’re lying against but instead his chest, he’s holding your knees apart as he nudges your head to the side with his nose, your neck exposed for him to lick and kiss and nip as you tease your cunt. You come quickly and your fantasy drifts from you. You make yourself come once more before you adjust the bedsheets slightly, put your slippers on and leave. Joel’s bedroom looks just as he left it. 

You watched him, learned his evening schedule. On Tuesdays and Thursdays he’s out on evening patrol, he doesn’t come home until the early morning. Those are the nights you sneak over to his house. As time goes on, you learn that you can be less careful. You don’t bother wiping your shoes, you don’t tiptoe like you used to. You’ll push the bedroom door open wide when Joel leaves it halfway shut. When you leave, you don’t bother laying the sheets back in the way Joel has them crumpled.

Joel notices.

You still come over for your usual quiet time, and Joel studies you. He’s begun sitting close to you, trying to memorize the smell of your shampoo on your hair. He thinks he smells it on his pillow. And the scent of your body, your soap and your perfume. He thinks he can smell it on his sheets. He thinks he can smell you on his sheets. 

You stay too long in his bed one Thursday night, startled when you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps in the distance. You bolt out of his bed, going down his stairs both as quickly and as quietly as you can. You shouldn’t have been so ballsy. Joel thinks he hears the door close but doesn’t pay it much mind as he undresses and gets into bed, and he doesn’t even notice you running back to your house from his window. What he does notice, however, is the way his bed feels warm as he lays down. He runs his hand along the length of his bed, the sheets feel cool on the opposite side. When he flips on his side, his nose nudges against something damp on his pillow. That’s when he sees your light flickering on from across the distance between your two windows, he sits up in bed to get a closer look at you. He watches your chest heaving like you’re out of breath, perhaps from sprinting across his lawn. He watches you then fall on your bed, he sees both of your knees hike up and spread apart. That’s when he puts two and two together. Suspicions confirmed.

He always knew you were trouble. And now he knows what you’ve been up to, trespassing to touch yourself in his home, in his bed, without him. You goddamn deviant. He’s gonna catch you in the act. 

-

Four whole days go by, which gives Joel enough time to find someone to cover his evening patrol. It’s Tuesday night and he’s got his bedroom lights off so you can’t see him watching you from his window. You look antsy, pacing back and forth across your room, frequently checking your window to see if he’s left yet. When Joel does leave his home, he’s conscious to not look behind himself at your window, to see if your light turns off. He doesn’t want you to know that he knows. He doesn’t look to see if you’re sneaking through his lawn. Instead, he keeps walking, giving you ample time to really screw yourself. When he feels a sufficient amount of time has passed, he turns back around and walks home. He enters his front door slowly and quietly, like a ghost. He takes careful steps through his living room, up his stairs. When he reaches his room, he pushes the door open wider and leans against the frame, listening to your breathy moans, watching you grind on his pillow in the low light of his room. You’re gripping his headboard as you whine, you’re even wearing one of his dirty flannels. Sick puppy. 

“Joel,” you moan to yourself. “Joel, oh god–” the lights turn on and you turn your head to see Joel leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed.

“Joel!”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel murmurs. “Caughtcha, didn’t I?” Any words you could possibly think of are caught in your throat. You feel hot, itchy. Joel notices the key he gave you sitting on his dresser and spins it around his finger. “Wasn’t what I had in mind when we set up our little arrangement.”

“I was– I wasn’t–” you shift uncomfortably as Joel puts the key down. 

He shuts his door and approaches you on his bed, first examining his headboard. He hums when he sees there’s little indents in the wood from your fingernails, marks on the wall behind the headboard. It all makes sense now. When Joel sits next to you on his bed, you quickly slide your ass off of his pillow and away from him. He’s quicker, tugging your– his flannel in the opposite direction, forcing you back to your place. “Nuh-uh,” he chides. “You stay right there.”

The air feels thick and Joel’s eyes are dark, almost inky black. You can hardly look at him, his intense gaze making you squirm. So instead you look down, where he plays with the fabric of his flannel, admiring the way it dances on your thighs with his touch. He lets a silence hang heavily between you both as he presses his lips in a thin line, waiting for you to explain yourself. You don’t. You can’t. You feel so exposed, so ashamed of yourself.

“Whatcha been doin’ to my pillow?” he finally asks. His voice is low, quiet and deep. He’s met with more silence. “Makin’ a mess, s’what. Up to no good, hm?” More silence as you adjust his flannel over your body, protecting your modesty. “I’m askin’ you a question,” he takes your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing eye contact. 

“Yeah,” your voice is hardly above a whisper. Your face is hot, your waterline is brimmed thick with tears, a few spilling over. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Ohhh, I know,” Joel coos, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “M’not tryin’ to embarrass ya, darlin’. S’human nature.” You can’t even begin to think of a way to get out of this situation. “S’that pillow ‘sposed to be me?”

“Yes.” 

“Figures,” Joel mumbles. “Makin’ me blush,” he taunts, tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. His touch makes your tummy flutter, it feels misleading. Like you’re enjoying it almost, though you shouldn’t be. “All you had to do was ask, sweetheart,” he says. “Didn’t need to make believe with my pillow. Get yourself into all this trouble.” You can’t quite get a read on what his angle is here. Still aroused and you feel nervous, small, guilty – awaiting punishment of some sort. 

 You’re defeated. All you can do is nod in understanding. You find the bravery to meet his eyes, his gaze still dark and intense, perhaps even hungry. He walks his fingers up the length of your thigh, noticing how you twitch as he nears your center. “I’ll go easy on ya f’ya tell me the truth. How long you been doin’ this, sweetheart?”

You are in trouble. He’ll go easy on you if you tell him the truth. “I dunno,” you whisper.

“Sure you do.” 

 You don’t even know. A few weeks, a month maybe. You shrug. 

“Think you wanna be honest with me,” Joel advises, provoking you slightly. Nothing from you. “S’alright. You don’t have to tell me. Just means you’re gonna finish the job.” 

“What?”

“You’re gonna finish what you started,” he says. “And this time I’m gonna stay right here and watch.”

Your heart drops. You search Joel’s eyes, looking for some sort of indication that he’s fucking with you. You’re not sure that you’re capable of this. Sex and masturbation are already two different animals. Getting off in front of the man you fantasize about in his bed? Where would you even begin?

“You had the balls to start this, you’re gonna finish it. Come on sweetheart, show me how you do it,” Joel nods, gesturing for you to begin. When you don’t, Joel scoots even closer to you on the bed. “So shy, aren’t you?” He turns his body toward you slightly, outstretching an arm across your body and then holds your hip in his strong hand. He begins to guide your movement, encouraging you to rock back and forth on his pillow. But you’re stiff in his hold. “Come on now,” he encourages, “Y’can even hold my hand f’ya want.”

Joel holds his free hand out to you, still moving your hip with the other. He knows how vulnerable and exposed you feel right now. Taking his hand, your other gripping the headboard once more, you still can’t meet his eyes, Instead you squeeze them shut, your hips following the guidance of his grip. 

“Why you bein’ quiet?” he asks, “Need to hear ya.”

Complying with his request, you let out a shaky and small moan. More of a whisper, really. He hums in approval, encouraging you to be louder. You’re starting to build a pace and find your courage, at least a little. 

When you let out a real moan, a real sound of pleasure, Joel squeezes your hip. “Ohh, there it is. Good girl,” he coos, “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

It’s instantaneous, the way his praise goes right to your core. You’re rocking your hips faster now, adjusting yourself to find a better angle. You can feel your own slick beneath you on the fabric of Joel’s pillow, wetting your thighs and your ass. His hand grips your own firmly, holding you steady, reminding you that he’s here with you.

Joel smirks as you move on your own accord. He lets go of your hip to explore your stomach and your torso with his palms, his fingertips dancing along the underside of your breasts. He sits up to get closer to you, tweaking one of your nipples beneath his fingers and sucking the other into his mouth, licking and swirling his tongue around the peaked bud. You tangle your fingers in his salt and pepper curls, tugging the strands as you ride his pillow. 

This is all he wanted. To watch you leave your mark on his clothes, in his bed, on his walls. He pulls away from you and watches you in admiration, moaning softly when he finally presses his palm against his bulge. He undoes his jeans and pushes both them and his boxers down his thighs, then removes his shirt. He grips his cock tightly, biting down on his moans as he gazes at you with lust in his eyes. He thinks you’re getting close now. Your hips are beginning to stutter in their movements, you’re getting quiet now like you’re concentrating on your pleasure, your body’s tensing up. He’s been so focused on you, he’s forgotten all about the fact that this is supposed to be your punishment for trespassing. 

Fuck. The punishment. 

Joel doesn’t have a clue how he’ll punish you as he lurches forward, kneels behind you and pulls your arms from the headboard. He hopes he’ll find the answer along the way. All he knows is that you’re not coming, not yet. Especially not by your own doing. Yeah, that’ll work, he thinks. He’ll bring you to the brink of orgasm, make you beg and apologize before finally letting you come. Maybe he’ll not even let you come, he’ll see how he’s feeling as time progresses 

Joel holds your arms behind your back in one hand and you yelp in surprise, then he adjusts his placement and pulls you back by your legs until you’re prone on his bed. “Up, sweetheart, up,” he mumbles, lifting your hips and pulling his pillow back, propping your ass up for him. The dampness of your arousal on his pillow feels warm and sticky against your tummy.

He palms your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh before parting your cheeks with his thumbs. He runs a single digit through your soft, slick folds, humming as you tremble beneath his touch. You’re so wet. “What a fuckin’ mess,” he purrs, pressing his middle finger against your entrance, circling it before pushing inside. You keen into his touch, arching your back for him. 

“Joel,” you whine as he pulls his finger out. 

“Do you know what a mess you made?” He doesn’t bother letting you attempt to respond, you’re way too addled for his touch to answer his question coherently. Joel dips his tongue between your sensitive folds, replacing his fingers. Just like how he touched you moments prior, he traces your entrance with a pointed tongue before dipping it into your heat. Your arousal is like honey, so thick and sweet on his lips. 

He tastes you, savors you as he kisses your cunt. He’s lapping through your slick folds, his tongue parting all of your sensitive flesh, sensitive just for him. You can feel the wiry hairs of his beard tease your clit before he dips his lower, circling and flicking your bud with the muscle. He sucks it between his lips, making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. “Joel, oh my god.”

Your fantasies of Joel were never like this, never so indulgent. He’s sucking at your clit, then licking, nipping at your folds, before focusing his attention back to that bud. You’re moaning, pushing your ass back and grinding against his mouth, feeling his aquiline nose tease your hole. He’s buried between your most private place, his tongue flicking and swirling with such fervor. You’re biting into his sheets and seeing stars when he enters you with his fingers once more, curling them into that sweet spot inside of you. 

You’re bucking against his face, your slick soaking his fingers to the knuckle, spilling into his palm. His fingers’ movements don’t falter as he pulls his mouth away from your cunt, trailing kisses over the crease where your ass meets your thigh. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“I’m so close,” you answer through a gasp. 

Joel kisses up your ass cheek, “How many times did you make yourself come in my bed?”

“Twice,” you reply. You’ll answer any question he asks now.

“Only twice?”

“Tonight.”

“Ohh,” Joel says. “Twice tonight. How ‘bout in total?” 

You don’t know the answer. Of course you don’t. He’s doing the math in his head as he fingers you. He’s thinking at least twice a night, twice a week. This venture of yours has probably been taking place over a couple of weeks. So that’s…more than enough, he decides. “Yeah, ‘course you don’t know. S’lot though, hm?” He lifts his face to watch you nod. “In that case, m’not sure that you need to come again.”

“I do,” you whine, “I need it, Joel.” 

“You want it–” Joel pulls his hand from your core and you cry at the loss. God, you wish his mouth was back there. “You be good to me and I’ll consider it.”

Joel pumps his cock momentarily behind you before he nudges a knee between your thighs. “Wider,” he instructs, leaning over you from behind.  He brackets your thighs with his own, one hand on your waist as he notches the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t yet push all the way in, though. Instead, he waits as you squirm and arch your back for him, trying to take more than what he’s giving you. You whine in frustration. “Easy, now,” he warns. “Should ask permission. Nicely.”

“Please, Joel,” you say, “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, there you go,” he praises, working into your body. You sigh in satisfaction as he buries himself in you fully, his tuft of coarse curls scratching against the skin of your ass. “Wasn’t so hard, hm?”

Joel tightens his grip on your hips, denting his nails into your skin like how you did to his headboard. His thumbs are pressed firmly into your lower back as he begins to roll his hips into you. The way he thrusts so languidly into you makes your head fuzzy, the only thought you can focus on being the sensation of his thick cock parting your insides. He’s fucking you steadily now, and you can feel the skin of his thick, pillowy tummy caressing your back with every stroke. Fuck, how good he feels.

He fucks you apart, setting a steady rhythm. Joel knows how much you needed him, how much you wanted him before now. How you love it, how it’s nothing but pure pleasure that makes up your whimpers and gasps and the tears on your cheek. He leans lower, covering your hand with his own and intertwining his fingers between yours. You shiver as he tugs your earlobe between his teeth, then licks and kisses your ear, his mustache tickling your skin as his nose nudges your temple gently. He takes a moment to kiss away your tears and rests his arm around the crown of your head, caressing your hair before fucking you wildly.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

“So good,” you choke out. 

You can feel Joel’s grin against the shell of your ear. “Just how you imagined when you were fuckin’ yourself on my pillow, hm?” he purrs.

“Better,” your answer is honest. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says, “Good answer, sweetheart.” 

He curls one of his forearms beneath your bicep, reaching for your breast and tweaking, pinching you as he wraps his other arm around you, searching for your pussy with his hand. He finds your sensitive bundle of nerves and draws lazy patterns over it, teasing you. You’re so wet. So slick, your pussy gushing with each stroke of his cock deep inside you. The sounds of your slick and skin slapping skin are lewd, obscene as he pounds his hips against your body. He’s grunting, gasping in your ear. It sends shivers down your spine. 

You’re twitching and bucking your hips, chasing that tightness beginning to build in your tummy. “Easy,” he murmurs. “Let me take my time with you.” He knows how desperate you are to come, but Joel makes you wait a little longer, feel the burn some more.

You’re whining and squirming as Joel fucks you, his face buried against your neck the hair on his cheeks scratch you. He’s biting, nipping at your skin as you let out your breathy little moans. In every inch of his body, he feels it–that power he holds, knowing you’re aching to come on his cock and it’s all because of him, it’s all for him.

His cock is beginning to twitch and he’s feeling that warm, sticky feeling in his gut and deep in his balls, he’s not lasting much longer now. He fucks you harder. “What about now, huh?” he grunts, “Should I let you come now?”

“Yeah,” you moan. “Yes. Let me, let me.”

“Then ask me,” he whispers, momentarily slowing his pace. He draws in and out of you slowly as he speaks, “S’all I wanted you to do, just ask me.” 

“Please let me come, Joel,” you ask.

“Good girl,” He brings his hand to your face, shoving his fingers past your lips. You know what he wants, no need for his instruction. You’re moaning, sucking on the digits as he fucks you, the motion of his thrusts grinding your clit into his warm palm. Joel feels you begin to tense up as you choke on his fingers. “There you go, let go, let go f’me. You’re alright,” he coos. “Come for me. I’ve got you.”

You’re stiffening underneath him, eyes screwing shut as you let yourself go. You come on his cock and against the calloused palm of his hand, ecstasy washing over you in thick, electrifying waves. Joel watches your face closely, he memorizes your cries of pleasure and how you convulse beneath him. He’s fucking wrecked you. 

You’re gurgling on Joel’s fingers that are still in his mouth as he slides his other hand away from your cunt in favor of resting it up high by your head. It’s his turn for release now. He’s without a thought when his hips begin to stutter as they lose their rhythm, the frenetic slamming of his body against yours indicating his closeness. He lets out a symphony of grunts and moans into your ear as he comes inside you, painting your insides with his spend, milking himself entirely. You take it all, everything he gives you, whining at the overstimulation and the way his release makes you feel so warm and full. Your cunt is slippery with his come as his thrusts begin to slow, slow some more until he stills inside you completely, resting on top of you. With a groan, he pulls out to admire his work, to watch how your combined arousal spills on his sheets. He uses two fingers to push some of his escaped come back inside you. 

You stay laying on your tummy as you cross your forearms to use as a pillow to rest your head. Joel meets you on his bed, also laying on his tummy. You hadn’t even realized he undressed himself. 

He reaches over to caress your cheek, then your flannel-covered back. “Nice touch,” he murmurs. “S’pretty on you.”

“Smells like you,” you confess quietly. “Turns me on.”

Joel makes an amused face as he nods. His eyes are sparkly but sleepy and your cheeks are warm, you bite down on a shy and embarrassed smile. He smirks at that.  “So bashful,” he purrs. “You’re welcome to use my home and wear my clothes for your dirty work any time you like,” he says. “Just invite me every now and then.”

-

If you enjoyed, please leave me a comment, rb, or send me an ask, tell me your thoughts. Your kind words and engagement keep me motivated to write

[llamagoddessofficial]

What if, pray tell, somehow, the bad guys were the one sick and mc taking care of them?

(Absolutely in love with your posts, keep it up! ❤️)

holy shit anon you're so valid for this

Horror won't leave your side. He doesn't get sick very often, he's a tough guy, so when he does get sick it's pretty serious. But he simply won't let you be alone. Though his breathing is haggard, he's sweating bullets, his eyelight is struggling to focus and he's swaying on his feet, he's stuck to your side. His feverish mind can't stop thinking about all the horrible things that might happen to you when he's not concentrating, he won't allow physical weakness to stop him from watching over the people he loves. The only way to get him to sleep is to tell him you need him to guard you while you sleep. Lured into laying down with you, he might finally just succumb to his fatigue and rest. But even then he must keep an arm over you. Just in case.

Dust is already quiet. So when he's ill, he entirely verbally shuts down, he usually just pretends he's fine or disappears away to his room where he won't be disturbed. But when he doesn't feel well and you're around, he gets cuddly. He quietly reverts to his more Sans-like behaviour, unabashedly seeking physical comfort; he'll hold your hand, nuzzle you, put his head against your chest so he can listen to your heart. Because he's so quiet, he'll often make you jump, unintentionally sneaking up on you. Much like Horror, if you want him to stay in bed you're gonna have to stay with him. But he's easy to look after - make some Sea Tea and put on a movie, and his fever will turn him into a big clingy hot water bottle. You might even be able to coax him into taking his hoodie off. Try not to think about the fact that you might be the only person left in the world that he can cuddle.

It's very, very strange to see Killer without his smile. When he's ill he loses his sense of humour, becoming snappy and sharp. It's amazing how, despite openly mocking him so often, the other skeletons appear genuinely intimidated by a humourless Killer. They give him an impressively wide berth. Perhaps it's a sign that there's a side of Killer you haven't seen yet - a side the other three have seen, that gives them reason to be so anxious. ... You've got nothing to worry about, though. He's still the same Killer. He might be irritable, but he'll do whatever you ask of him. Illness turns him into a huffy tsundere that cracks the moment you use a gentle voice.

Nightmare doesn't get sick. ... At least... he doesn't admit when he's sick. But you'll be able to tell, because he'll be extra grouchy, extra short-tempered, extra tired. He barks out commands to his underlings and reactions angrily to extremely minor infractions. In public, do not draw attention the fact that he's unwell. He won't appreciate it. ... But in private? You can tease him, you can poke him, you can treat him like a big baby. He doesn't protest. He may grumble - but he doesn't stop you. In fact, he draws you closer. If you get him in private, use your sweetest voice, squish his cheekbones, kiss his skull, call him saccharine pet names. This is the most you'll ever get away with. He's clearly soaking up attention.

[comatosebunny09]

fever dream | astarion a.

genre(s): fluff, angst

warning(s): language, self-indulgent, sick!reader, astarion’s a little ooc

now playing: the night does not belong to god - sleep token

notes: very self-indulgent because i’m sick and needed some comfort and @nanaoise08squad inspired me to finish this. thank you for reading, lovelies! ❤️❤️❤️

Somehow, the sun shines brighter today. Glaringly so.

You hold a hand to your temple to shield your eyes from its brilliance. Your armor feels heavier, too. Like boulders stacked on your shoulders and chest, making it harder to breathe. You force out a groan that’s gritty like ash. Trudge down the steps leading outside the inn to join your companions, your limbs weighted and achy.   

“I hate to point out the obvious, darling.” Astarion grimaces with his hands curled to his chest in revulsion. He ducks away from the sight of you. Winces as you take a labored step forward, your balance thrown to the hells.

“But you look like utter shit.”

You scoff, phlegm making itself known in your throat.

What a way to be greeted by the love of your life.

“You sure are a flatterer, aren’t you, Astarion?”

You’re sure to drag out the vowels of his name—or perhaps your words are a little slurred due to whatever ailment took hold of you today. Nevertheless, you jab a finger between his ribs, your face twisting into something haughty.

You wonder if it was worth the exertion as your vision and body sway along with the trees, and your head pounds something menacing whilst a wave of vertigo hurtles into you.

“Shit!”

Astarion catches you when you pitch forward, your legs unable to grasp the rhythm of walking. And there are suddenly two of him. Two little ‘starions calling your name, fretting over you, shaking you to keep you amongst the conscious.

You feel like lead. Feel yourself sinking below the surface, unable to return.  

Your lids shutter as if weighed down by sandbags. The muddled shouts of your friends trickle in, each tinged with varying degrees of concern. You register hands all over you, patting and pulling. Register a strained voice yelling stop, and the frantic touching ceases.  

Before you fully succumb to the darkness, there is the sensation of you being lifted up, followed by the earthy scent of bergamot flooding your senses, and it furls around your heart.

Then, there is nothing.

Something savory draws you from the inkiness of your sleep. It curls around your mind, luring you into consciousness.

You caution a sound, your throat rubbed raw from disuse. You slowly open your eyes, and the bleariness gradually morphs into discernible shapes and colors. Somehow, this place feels familiar.

You’re back in your rented room. Nestled in the plushness of a mattress with too many pillows and sheets soft as linen. You will yourself onto your elbows, wincing at the stiffness of your neck. The pain is manageable. Better than it was before, you note, leisurely ingesting your surroundings.

A lone candle flickers on the nightstand, swathing the room in its bronze glow. Moonlight seeps through the curtains lining the window across. The faint symphony of crickets accompanies the murmur of the inn’s other patrons and the groans of the floorboards beyond your doorway.

Bloody hell.

How long have you been out?

On cue, the doorknob rattles, and a slither of light leaks in. The swell of noise outside commands your attention. You stiffen, fingers instinctively twitching for a weapon. But your bones settle as a thatch of white creeps into your vision from the threshold.

“Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” Astarion breathes. He toes the door shut, a steaming bowl of deliciousness cupped in his palms. Takes a few steps forward, rounded eyes flashing amber beneath the candlelight.

You recognize that aroma. The hearty scent which roused you from your sleep. Your stomach gnarls with life as Astarion nears the bed, donning that smug little mask.

“Hungry, are we?”

You nod enthusiastically, garnering a chuckle from the room’s other occupant. Suddenly self-conscious of how eager you are whilst he hands you the bowl, his fingers slinking away from yours as if he’s touched simmering coals.

“Courtesy of Gale,” Astarion supplies. “I can’t guarantee how good it tastes considering—well, you know. Undead and all that.”

His smile is tight-lipped. Guarded as he settles himself on a stool beside you, his spine straight and his ankles crossed. He helps you sit up against the headboard despite the unease permeating the air. Quickly retracts his hands to press them against the wood of his seat between his thighs, surveying your room.

You take some time to study him. Note that his eyebags seem more prominent than usual. Darker. Hair’s a little tussled, skin a bit paler. His shirt sits rumpled around his shoulders, the fastenings of it done all wrong. Worst of all, he has not looked at you for longer than a few beats. Like you’re made of glass and will shatter if he stares for too long.   

A pang shoots through you, searing hot like lightning.

He was worried.

Worst of all, he was worried about you.

You’re no longer hungry, your stomach twisting as you gaze down at the stew bleeding warmth into your palms. You set it on the nightstand with a decisive clunk, quietly receding into yourself. Silently relenting to the smog of self-loathing draping itself across your shoulders.   

“You scared me half to death, you know,” says Astarion, parting the tangled sea of your thoughts. As if he senses you berating yourself. It’s a soft drawl. An attempt at scolding you, but there’s weariness nestled in the undercurrents of it. “That’s saying a lot, considering I’ve already one foot in the grave.”

You peer up at him like a meager child. He watches you from his peripheral with crossed arms, his nose turned up, feigning disappointment. You see through the cracks of his façade, and your lips twitch with the threat of a smile.

He can be incredibly adorable when trying to shroud his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, your tone barely above a whisper.

Astarion releases a resigned sigh. And the weight of the world seems to pour from his shoulders as he angles himself towards you, reaching for one of your hands.

His expression softens, and he squeezes, his palm frigid yet reassuring. For the first time since he entered, he truly looks at you. Gaze swims through your features as if to commit every detail, every imperfection, to memory. As if he could lose you at any second.  

“No need to apologize, my love. I was just…concerned, is all. I suppose we all were when you went down.”

The recollection makes your face blossom with heat. Poor little darling, taken out by a nasty cold. Causing hysteria among your friends, deterring your journey.

Astarion thumbs your cheek, smiling something genuine at the pout on your lips.

Your tongue burns with the ache of a question, and you shrink, not wholly prepared for the answer.

“How long was I out for?”

“Nearly two days.”

You blanch, evoking another guttural laugh from Astarion.     

“Shadowheart did her best to heal you. There was only so much her magic could mend. So, we’ve been playing the waiting game while you caught up on your beauty sleep. Not like you need much more of it.”

You snort at Astarion’s cheekiness.

Leave it to your little star to find every opportunity to flatter you.

He examines your joined hands thoughtfully, thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve dealt with mortal illnesses. Honestly, I couldn’t begin to fathom how to comfort you. Other than gracing you with my presence, of course.”  

It’s refreshing to see his humor is still intact despite his beloved pulling a Snow White.

For a while, you sit like this. Basking in the moment’s serenity, holding hands. Grinning and laughing like two enamored fools when your gazes interlock. You can tell that Astarion’s lightyears away, however. At war with himself, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, reprimanding himself for not being your proverbial knight in shining armor.

Absently, you scoot over. Relinquish your love’s hand—much to his chagrin—to pat the space beside you. You affix him with a look that’s all too serious as you say, “For starters, you could try holding me.”

Astarion stares at you with rounded eyes. Mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish, forming around words that he can’t quite conjure.   

“Oh. A-Alright,” he finally musters. Dumbfounded, Astarion stands, maneuvering to sit beside you on the bed. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. Never does, unused to being so vulgar, so unabashed with his feelings.

Though, for you, you know he would rearrange the stars in the sky if he could.

So you help him, tugging him closer and falling into the circle of his arms. You nestle against his chest with a pleased hum vibrating your throat. Tangle your legs together, ignoring the surprised sound that leaves him.

He’s a lovely contrast to your still-enflamed skin. Fits like a puzzle piece against you, soft and lithe. He relaxes gradually, tucking you ever closer against him as if you’ll disappear in a plume of smoke if he lets go. He pets through your hair before anchoring his chin to the crown of your head, surrendering a satisfied sigh.

“Well, I supposed this isn’t so bad, now is it?” Astarion husks, stroking soothing circles into the notches of your spine.

You nod offhandedly, your lids lowering, and your body feeling at ease.

Suddenly, your ailment seems more bearable as you sink below the depths of slumber, an unguarded smile cresting over your lips.

The shadows of your conjoined bodies dance along the walls as the candlelight dwindles, and you both surrender to the tranquility of the night.    

masterlist

[pressureplus]

Hihi!! Back again! (Lmk if you want me to not request so often I don’t want to overwhelm you guys <33)

Could I perchance req a scenario where experiment reader just wants to cuddle with Sebastian (like reader is just snuggled into his chest bc they’re just exhausted.) and then their kid decides to snuggle up on top of the reader?? I genuinely think it’s just a cute idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it lol

Also!! How are you both? Hope you’re doing well!! <3

-💫

Hello again, 💫, hope you're doing well!

I finally got to that request you thought got eaten by the Tumblr God's like some kind of weird Tumblr Offering. Hope you like it! ❤️

Layers of Fondness

Pairings: Sebastian Solace x GN!Experiment!Reader

Au: [Unnamed]

Warnings: None, I kept this light and fluffy!

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

"Oh, Hello there, little star." Sebastian chuckles when his smaller partner comes up to cuddle him, their form already curling up into his chest from where he's been laying for a while now.

"Are you a sleepy little angel?" He teases them lightly, one of his hands coming up to rub at their back in soothing, wide circles.

"Mmmf." To say Y/N's response is short would be an understatement, but the way that their face is buried in his neck ruffle tells him they definitely don't want to be holding a conversation right now.

Smiling, Sebastian traces comforting shapes on their back and begins to hum, hoping to relieve some of that awful tension that's made his lover so exhausted today. Briefly, he ponders what could have done it this time. Maybe an altercation with another experiment? A stock run gone bad, perhaps?

His questions are answered nearly immediately when he hears the tiny patter of footsteps start to waddle their way into the room.

He can only chuckle and grin that sharp, amused smile when tiny hands emerge up from below the side of the bed and grab fistfuls of the bedding, pulling the small body up and into the covers like the little heathen that it is.

"Ah, Right. The attention-hungry baby." Sebastian snickers to punctuate his comment as the little one wiggles and worms it's way up under it's parent's arm, nuzzling in against the both of them.

"Are you finally ready to sleep? After I've been trying to get you down for a nap for two hours?" Tired, smiling relief comes from Y/N when they wrap both their arms around the needy toddler.

"Mmm..." Their shared child's ear fins twitch and it's light flickers slightly to dim with the low energy.

"Well would you look at that, they sound just like you." Sebastian seems more than a little entertained by his own remark.

"Shut up, fish man." Y/N pouts at him, completely unaware those angry eyes are much less than menacing when they're tired and only melt his fishy heart.

"Don't teach them that!" Sebastian scolds playfully, as though he doesn't say so much meaner than that more often than not, and laughs.

"Shut up!" The little, mostly nonverbal toddler proudly mimicks it's role model in the inconvenient and terribly timed way only tiny children seem to be able to do.

"Look what you've done- now it's gonna take after you!" Y/N's husband playfully jabs again, and feins looking anguished.

"You say that like you didn't marry me." Y/N teases him back.

"You say that like I won't take it back." Sebastian makes an empty, joking threat.

"You won't, we both know you can't live without me." They smile back at him before relaxing again, still so sleepy they can hardly keep their eyes open.

He leans in and kisses them on the nose, then goes to place another to the baby's temple.

The pair's little one shifts and turns to lay draped over Y/N's resting form, creating a happy family stack before it drifts and sleeps.

Sebastian goes to make yet another bit of commentary before he stops, seeing his spouse and his toddler already out for the night.

Looking happy yet again and softening, he opts instead to pull the covers up and close his eyes as well.

The collective peace has been a rare one lately, but nobody really seems to mind when the trouble is so cute at the end of the day.

[alvfr]

🌹 hii! Any Marvel content?

Btw the Rot snippet!! Amazing!

Aaah, thank you ❤️ And I thought for sure I had some Marvel-writing laying around, but I couldn't find it so I decided to act on my impulses and write this little thing I've had in the back of my mind for a while. It went slightly beyond a snippet, but I am who I am unfortunately. also I headcanon that xavier does not read minds unless permitted, which is in line with how this movie ended originally. paring: logan | james howlett/reader cw: fem mutant!reader, no use of y/n, set after days of future past, implied memory loss or time travel shenanigans, profanity, no smut wc: 1.9k

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

It is considered cliche to start a story with someone waking up, but that is nonetheless where this story begins. When everything you knew or thought you knew about the world changed. And out of every way your life could be turned on its head, you never thought it would be to the soothing tones of Roberta Flack playing on the radio. From the depths of your subconscious rose a tiny voice asking a question. What radio?

Roberta’s voice overpowered your internal one and became the first thing to wake you from a deep and comfortable slumber. Too deep and too comfortable, perhaps, compared to what you were used to. The same went for the bed — too soft and too warm and too nice smelling. A part of you tried to piece it together and failed. What bed?

For several long seconds before you fully woke, you pondered if you had died sometime during the night and woken up in heaven. More and more of your body stirred, though, indicating vitality. Including your eyelids that blinked open only to immediately squeeze shut at the incessant sunlight streaming in through the window. Faint alarm bells chimed in the back of your groggy mind. What window?

Still, not enough to break through to the rational part of your brain, you settled further into the fluffy pillow and closed your eyes again. A slight breeze tickled the back of your neck though and you twitched in annoyance. You twisted your head this way and that, but the tickling continued so you tried turning around to pull the covers up over your shoulder. Except you found yourself locked in place by something warm and heavy. Someone warm and heavy whose breath continued to tickle the back of your neck.

Your eyes burst open, and your entire body froze, not daring to even breathe. Your mind finally caught up to the unnatural warmth that came from the way your body slotted together with someone else’s in the large, comfortable bed you had never seen before. In a room you had never seen before. You twisted your head to peek at the person behind you, the one pressed flush up to your backside. With their hairy legs entangled with yours, with their scruffy face nestled into your neck, and with their muscular, heavy arm splayed over your midriff. 

First, you saw nothing but large tufts of dark brown hair, but your movement must have woken him. Definitely a him. Sun-blessed skin, a solid, rugged jaw covered in something that went way beyond a five o’clock shadow, and deep-set, weary eyes that remained closed for now. He grunted and groaned as if wordlessly admonishing you for disturbing his peaceful sleep, and his arm around your waist tightened. Much like yourself, he squeezed his eyes shut first and rubbed his face back down into the pillow and your neck, scratching his scruff onto your bare skin. Shockwaves spun through both your mind and nerve endings when he absentmindedly placed a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“What the fuck?” you whispered, not really sure why you had not bolted from his grip. It was almost like that even if your mind could not comprehend what you were doing in this strange bed with this strange man, your body had no qualms about it. “What the fuck?”

“Hng?” the man grunted again and took several tries to blink his tired eyes fully open. Unfamiliar hazel eyes stared at you, and you stared back, watching his lip curl in irritation and his heavy eyebrows pull down to a scowl. Somehow, the sight of you did not seem to disturb him, quite the opposite, in fact, as he leaned over with eyes half-closed and kissed you right on the mouth. Soft, chaste, warm. Familiar in a completely unfamiliar way and gone before you could even comprehend what had happened. A sound vibrated through the man’s chest, almost a growl before he promptly closed his eyes and laid back down. “Hrmm.”

Every part of you burned, a hot blister running everywhere you still touched and where you had touched. Your mouth hung open from where his kiss had landed, a hint of wetness on your bottom lip that chilled in his absence. Both the intimate act itself and the strange nonchalance with which he did it made you want to implode. 

You held your breath, unable to either inhale or exhale, with your head reeling at the idea of being kidnapped by some weirdly cuddly pervert before his grip on you tightened and his eyes snapped back open. The confusion shone off of him, and you stared at each other, both unblinking and unmoving.

His voice came gruff and heavy with sleep, “Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?”

His focus danced around the room, not settling on either you or the interior. He tilted his head backward in the direction of the radio but did not fully turn, probably because you pinned him down with the way you lay. “What year is this?”

“What year is this?”

Now he did turn around, flipping over so you fell back onto the mattress. The movement tugged down the covers, revealing his hairy muscular chest that your fingers itched to run your hands over, and you dug your nails into your palm instead because what the fuck? You didn’t even know this guy, and even so, you could feel the way your stupid body pulled toward him. 

For some reason, the man stared at the fancy radio that declared it was playing ‘Golden Oldies’ on the holographic display and let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Twenty-twenty-three?” he asked you as if that was the most important question where you lay half-naked in bed together. “Is this twenty twenty-three?”

The earnestness of his question made your own take the backseat for a spell. You sat up, noting how you had on an unfamiliar black t-shirt, and rubbed your face. “I thought it was, but with the way you’re asking, I’m not sure anymore.”

“Is everyone,” he swallowed, and you noted the way his throat moved, “alive?”

“Define everyone,” you mumbled, but something glinted on your hand, and you pulled it away from your face to look at it. That had not been there last night, either. A ring. A simple, nondescript golden ring. Almost like a wedding ring. “What the fuck is this?”

The man raised an eyebrow, seeming unconcerned, and ran a hand over his scruff. “Hey, no judgment.”

Ignoring him, you pulled off the offending object and gave it a critical glance. “Who the fuck is,” you squinted at the tiny text, “James Howlett?”

“What?” His panicked tone spoke volumes, and you turned to stare at him. Was he James Howlett? When you said nothing, his voice grew tighter. “What did you just say?”

He had frozen with his hand still up by his face, and you both noticed it at the same time. The disturbingly similar ring on his finger and you wrenched it off him before he could protest. It was the same cut as the one you had, just larger and thicker, and with a different engraving, this one containing your name.

“What the fuck?” you snapped and tore out of the bed, mind overriding your meddlesome body as you hurled the rings at him. Then followed with the books from the overfilled bookshelf by the window. “What kind of disturbed, twisted, pathetic loser are you? You kidnapped me to live out some—”

He dodged the incoming projectiles, sounding more weary than angry. “Hey. Hey! Calm down!”

“—stupid handmaid’s tale bullshit fantasy—”

The man grabbed a book from mid-air and yelled, “Hey! I didn’t drug you or kidnap you, okay? I’ve never even seen you before!”

“Right! Sure! You just happened to have a ring lying around with my name on it in case I happened to wake up in your bed for some reason? You’re sick, mister! Sick!” You reached for another book but grabbed hold of a picture frame instead and were about to fling it at him. Except you caught sight of the picture, eyes widening to an unnatural degree, and held it up. “What in the ever-loving reverse Stockholm syndrome is this?”

The picture showed you, in a wedding gown, next to him, in a suit. Remarkably realistic, down to the genuine smiles on both your faces and the flurry of confetti that rained down over you from beyond the frame. 

“Whoa, hey, I’ve never seen that before. Lady, listen to me, last thing I remember, I was in 1973 trying to fix the future.”

“Oh my god, you’re insane. You’re completely out of your mind! I’m leaving and so help you god or anyone else if you try to stop me! I’m a mutant, you know; I can kick your ass seven ways to Sunday!”

The man’s face locked somewhere between confusion and amusement from where he sat in the bed, surrounded by books and messy covers. It did not occur to you that you should have been scared of him before you strode across the room, heading for the door. Almost as if your body overrode that particular feeling, as if deep down you knew this man would never hurt you.

Your brain was fully onboard with the getting-the-hell-out-of-here-plan, however, and you tore the door open only to reveal a hallway you had never seen before filled with kids you had never seen before. All kinds of kids, really, some of them obviously mutants and some at least human-looking. The myriad of noises and displays of powers momentarily distracted you from the bald man in the wheelchair right outside the door that you were sure you had seen before.

“Good morning,” he said with a polite smile, fingers steepled in front of him. “I’ve come to inform you that we’ve regretfully had several students complain about noises from your room. Again. I must ask you, again, to please keep it down as long as you are staying here near the dormitories. I know this is an inconvenience, but the refurbishment of the teacher’s lodgings is expected to be completed within a few more days. We have, wisely as it seems, included several layers of soundproofing.”

“Charles?” 

“Holy shit, you’re Charles Xavier.”

“Language, Professor Howlett,” Charles fucking Xavier said with a raised eyebrow. To you. He called you Professor Howlett and you could not even think of a reply while he raised a wrist to check his watch. “Speaking of, don’t you both have classes to teach?”

You only stared and let out a strained whispered, “What?”

“Charles,” the man behind you — presumably James Howlett — repeated, and you heard the rustle of cloth as he got out of bed. He sounded breathless when he said, “You did it.”

“Did what, Logan? ” 

Okay, maybe the man was not James Howlett? Either way, he came to stand next to you but paid you little attention from where he stared at Xavier. Open-mouthed, in awe, relieved, happy?

When Logan said nothing, Xavier gave you both a short nod. “Just keep it to an acceptable volume, please. Everyone knows you are happily married; there’s no need to remind everyone quite as frequently as you are. And get dressed, please! Class starts in five minutes.” 

-------------

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[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Now I NEED to know the reactions to realizing you're still in the bed waiting to get railed I'm cry laughing you're amazing

No ur amazing 🥹❤️

You're all amazing seriously. All these delightfully unhinged asks have definitely distracted me from what would have probably been a very bad breakdown. Thank you and I love you all so much.

Please accept this little drabble about their reactions as a token of my eternal gratitude 🙏

Moment of Realization

Cross Guild x Reader

Wordcount: 691

Kinda hurt/comfort but mostly silly fluff

Not smutty but potentially NSFW due to obvious connotations

I'm not guaranteeing that there will be a NSFW smutty sequel but there may be

Reclined back against the headboard and plush feather pillows, clad in the revealing and undoubtedly expensive lingerie that Crocodile bought you a few days ago, you sigh to yourself. You're so used to their bickering at this point that it's easy enough to tune out. You flip through your book, catching brief snippets of Buggy's futile attempts to defend himself while Crocodile unloads a slew of particularly creative insults at him; of Mihawk's occasional scathing remarks that seem only to add fuel to the fire. Every so often you glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, and over at the three half-naked idiots standing at the opposite side of the bed fighting.

It's doubtful that they even remember what started the fight. You really don't remember yourself at this point.

Perhaps fifteen minutes pass, and you catch sight of Mihawk rolling his eyes, arms crossed. As his eyes roll away from the other two pirates, they land on you, locking with your gaze as you raise your eyebrows and turn your attention back to your book.

Mihawk's eyes widen for the briefest of moments, and he elbow's Crocodile in the ribs. Crocodile tosses a particularly threatening glare at him. "The hell do you wa—"

And Mihawk silently jerks his head toward the bed.

Crocodile's eyes slowly drift over to the bed, his hook still at Buggy's throat, mouth still open. Buggy's eyes dart between you and Crocodile.

"Shit," says Crocodile under his breath.

You flip a page as Mihawk clears his throat. "Ah—darling...?"

You glance over, lifting your eyebrows again as you look between the three of them. "Oh, do you mean me?" you ask dryly. "So glad you remembered I was here. I feel so priveledged." He cringes the slightest bit. 

Crocodile gives a heavy sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Yeah..." He gives a light chuckle. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Buggy raises his hand. "I remembered, I just couldn't esca—"

Crocodile immediately rounds on Buggy with his hook again, growling out, "Listen here, you little sh—"

Mihawk clears his throat loudly before the situation can escalate again.

"We may have gotten...a bit carried away," he says carefully.

"And forgot I was here," you add, tucking your bookmark between the pages of your book. It's honestly amusing to see the three of them flinch in unison when you snap it shut, to watch them glance between each other as they try to figure out some way to get themselves out of the massive hole they have dug themselves into. You go on while they all remain silent. "Since you're all so busy, maybe I'll just go to sleep and you can just go fuck yourselves—"

That garners exactly the reaction you expected it to, and it's difficult not to smirk to yourself as they immediately jump to attemting to make ammends. In an instant you're surrounded on the bed, each of them vying to comfort you from the scorn they have inflicted by ignoring you.

"Now, sweetheart..." Crocodile plucks your book from your hands and sets it aside, brushing your hair away from your neck and leaning in close to murmur in your ear. "You know I'd much rather fuck you."

Mihawk curls his hand under your chin, turning your head to meet your gaze, lowering his head until his forehead touches yours. "It would be a crime to not make it up to you," he says lightly, lips almost brushing against yours.

Buggy lays across you, arms wrapped around your middle and nuzzling against your chest, adding, "We're all very sorry and love you very much and promise to worship the ground you walk on."

Rolling his eyes and sighing a little, Crocodile wraps his hand around your waist and tugs you a little closer. "I guess I agree with the clown." His lips brush against your jaw. 

"For once, yes," Mihawk allows.

You roll your eyes, unable to mask your smirk anymore. "I guess I can forgive you," you say airily, letting your lips barely brush against his. "This time."

Secretly, you don't mind them arguing every other night—because you know that they'll put in that much extra effort to make it up to you.

[robinhills]

💫ROBINHILL Smut

kinda scared cause this is only my third time writing smut 😣 I wanna try and make this as in character as I can but it’s gonna probably end up being OOC‼️‼️

also when you think of the hotel suite, my idea for how it would look would kinda be a mix of the penacony hotel rooms and the hotel suite from pretty women.

btw bootyhill can’t reproduce cause cyborg 🦿

꒰ა ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ໒꒱

CW(s): cyborg sex, porn with plot? + aftercare/pillowtalk, established relationship, missionary, soft sex, praise, biting, hair tugging, touched starved Boothill, Makeup sex? pussy eating, crying during sex, boothill has a normal dick because I’m a pussy, cream pie.

synopsis: they're dating, semi makeup sex?🩷

“I’d travel across galaxies of torture and pain if it meant I could hold you”

~

Robin had just finished her concert, and finally got back to the hotel she was staying at, she was exhausted, but remembering the smiles she saw on people’s faces as she sang, always made her feel a bit better about her day, sure her long and excruciating makeup routine, plus the hours of dance practice, the strict diets, the hate mail, the constant business, the occasional stalkers, made it rough, but just knowing that she could have made one persons day better with her music kept her going.

But that doesn’t mean the fatigue wasn’t getting to her, and…aeons, she missed Boothill, last time they seen each other had been almost two months ago, they had gotten into an argument about how she felt like she wasn’t enough for him…and than she suggested he was cheating on her.

when they had first met, he was a “pump and dump” kinda guy, the type of guy who sleeps with a women one time, and never calls again, didn’t date, and sure as hell, didn’t stick to one gal.

of course deep down she knew he had changed, she knew he loved her, but, she was so busy all the time, and exhausted, and they didn’t sleep together as much as most couples did.

did he feel unsatisfied? Unloved? The guilt of arguing with him over something she knew wasn’t true was eating her up, she just wanted to see him again, but even after apologizing, she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to see her.

She pulled out her phone, scrolling to her texts with boothill, staring at them.

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Boothill🦾🤠| 09:34

|sent with voice message| Heya Darling, I know last night we had that argument and I left suddenly, I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like you ain’t enough, and I’m gonna try and fix that, promise, 🦾 I’m gonna be gone for a few months on some business and I won’t be able to text much, I love you read✔️

Robin🎶🪽| 09:42

it’s okay, I get it, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I know you aren’t being unfaithful, Boothill, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, none of this is your fault, I love you. read✔️

Boothill🦾🤠| 09:46

|sent with voice message| it’s fine darling, I get it, I’ll see you as soon as I can, just let me know when ya want to see me and I’ll come running over🦿, see ya, sweet cheeks ❤️ read✔️

Robin🎶🪽| 09:46

Okay, I’ll miss you, cowboy. <3 read✔️

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She sighed, her hand clenching around her phone, seeing that made her feel a bit better, she smiled to herself as she walked down the halls to her hotel room.

she took out her keycard, making sure to check both ways, before quickly opening it and rushing inside, shutting and locking it as quickly as possible, perhaps she was a bit paranoid but better safe than sorry.

Aeons, now she just wanted a nice shower, and sleep, maybe she’d order a bottle of champagne and a box of chocolates.

as she walked in, she noticed the hotel suite was faintly lit by candles, she glanced at the bed, rose petals spread across it, she slowly reached in her bag for her pepper spray, aeons, she hoped she didn’t have a crazy fan inside her room.

She peeked around the corner holding her pepper spray tightly, her thumb on the button, ready to spray.

And there he was, sitting in a chair across the room, already starting to get up, only immediately to sit back down, and put his metallic hands up in defeat.

“eh..hey there…darlin?“ he said, with an unsure tone, as he stared at the pepper spray, and chuckled, slowly standing up.

“sheesh, ya still mad about the fight? Is that it?”

Robin stared for a moment, and sighed, slowly putting the pepper spray down, her wings relaxed in relief, and she rushed over into his arms, burying her face in his neck, his arms wrapping around her waist, spinning her around in his arms. “I missed you.” she whispered into his neck, holding onto him tightly as he slowly set her down, back on her feet. “aww, I missed you too, sugar.”

“im sorry.” she said, almost immediately, staring up at him, her lips curved down into a small frown, the wings behind her ears drooping downwards.

he simply smiled, and took off his hat, tossing it. “Angel, it’s fine, really, it’s okay, do I look mad to you? Cause I ain’t mad.” he trailed his robotic fingers along her cheek.

she hesitates, but she eventually lets out a sigh of relief, nodding slowly, leaning her head into his cold, metal hands. “I know you’re not..” there was a moment of silence.

…

he must have noticed she still looked upset, because he scooped her up over his shoulder, and started walking over to the bed and before she got the chance to object, he tossed her down on it, and quickly started to undress himself.

“d-dear?…” she says after a moment, slowly sitting up, watching him, she sighed. “you want to do this now?…”

“do ya not want to?” “no I do..but I’m tired…”

He paused, and sighed, smiling. “than ill do all the work, you just lay back and enjoy it, sugar…is that okay?”

She hesitated for a moment, she didn’t like having him do all the work…it made her feel like she wasn’t pleasing him.

but the way he stares at her, it reassures her, she sighs softly, and nods slowly. “yes.”

he chuckles softly, and slowly leans down, climbing on top of her, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.

“Yes what? Use your words, baby.” she sighed, her cheeks growing hot, she felt that fluttering in her stomach at his words, and she clenched her thighs together, her wings perked up a tad. After a moment, she said in a soft voice, leaning back.

“Yes..I want you to make love to me.” He paused, and giggled, he felt giddy hearing that, and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Than ya hold on, sweet cheeks, we goin all night!”

~

He proceeded to help her get undressed, making sure to be extra gentle with her, the cold steel of his hands caused her to occasionally shiver or tense, he kept checking on her to make sure she was okay. once he got her dress and jewelry off, he slowly removed her bra, planting a kiss on both of her breasts, rubbing her stomach slowly. “Mm..missed my girls…and ya nipples already so perky and hard, just for me.” he chuckled, kissing her right nipple, than her left.

She shivered, and looked down at him, slowly caressing the back of his head with her hand, her fingers curling around his hair, playing with it softly.

“Don’t say stuff like that..it’s embarrassing..” she mumbled with a soft tone, sighing, her cheeks flushed brightly, her lips glossy from the wet kisses he kept giving her.

”but it’s true.” He captured a nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around her harden nipple, sucking gently.

she let out a small, content sigh, her eyes half lidded, the wings behind her ears fluttered again, she leaned her head back into the pillow, she smiled slightly for a moment, he always found a way to make her smile.

he slowly started moving down her body, trailing kisses down her stomach, and stopping right above her pubic area. “is this okay, baby?” Robin nodded slowly, and grabbed a pillow to hold onto, pressing it against her chest, burying her mouth in it, and mumbled into it.

“Yes. Go ahead, love.” her wings fluttered again, and she squirmed her hips around a bit.

Boothill slowly sat up, taking off her underwear slowly, he glanced at it, and chuckled as he noticed her slick. “sheesh, sugar, ya already that wet?” he paused for a moment, staring at her flustered face, and he said slowly, in a softer, more serious tone.

“Atta Girl, Lift those pretty legs up for me.” She felt those butterflies in her stomach again, but it felt hotter, she felt a throbbing on her clit, and glanced down, noticing Boothill’s erect thick cock, and how swollen and red the tip looked, thank aeons he kept his dick, her wings fluttered again, she was practically salivating. she obeyed, lifting her legs up slowly, exposing herself to him. he groaned softly, and rubbed his jaw for a moment, staring down at her pussy, his dick twitched slightly, and he sighed, almost analyzing her for a moment, his metallic fingers reached over, and he flicked her swollen bud softly, eliciting a small moan from her throat, she bucked her hips up slightly. “Boothill, please…I need you..” she cooed, squirming her hips around in a circular motion, causing him to chuckle again.

“Gosh darn, darlin…you sure are a needy lil’ thing, ain’t cha?” he sighed, and lifted her legs over his cold, metal shoulders.

“Soon…lemme prepare you first, sweet cheeks.” He leaned his hands under her, groping and kneading her rear softly, lifting her up by her butt just slightly, before leaning down, and planting a few kisses on her inner thighs, he glanced at her, before taking a small and soft nibble at her inner thigh, sucking the skin softly. she gasped, before a whimper left her lips, she stared down at him, wiggling her hips again, desperately, she hadn’t been intimate with him in so long, she didn’t realize how starved she was for him since she was always distracted with work.

“Dear…please hurry up..”

he sucked her thigh for a second more, before stopping, leaving a small red mark on her inner thigh, he sighed, and looked at her. “Relax…we don’t gotta rush everything, we have all night…” he caressed her ass slowly, and planted a loving kiss right above her clit, making her shiver.

“Move that damn pillow too, I wanna hear ya” he leaned a hand up, and snatched the pillow away, she whined.

“I need something to hold onto..”

“Squeeze the sheets, pull my damn hair, I don’t care, but don’t try and hide from me.” He quickly latched his lips onto her clit, and sucked.

she moaned softly, and bucked her hips up slightly, her nails digging into sheets, his tongue swirled around her nub, his cold, metallic hands squeezing her ass, caressing her softly.

he slowly moved his lips away from her clit, only to start lapping at her entrance, sucking and probing her pussy with his tongue, devouring her like she was his last meal on earth. he made sure to be careful not to scrape his teeth against her pussy, he kept giving loving rubs with his thumb onto her hip bone, occasionally glancing up at her, his cock pressing into the mattress, the rose petals on the bed were getting mushed up slightly by Robins squeezing and tugging of the sheets. He started flicking his tongue at her clit, switching between slow and fast every few seconds, her moans and whines filled the room, her wings got droopy from the overwhelming pleasure, and her halo tilted slightly as her head kept moving around, she moved her hands slowly to his head, tugging his long white and black hair gently as she felt that familiar, hot, tightening coil in her stomach.

“B-Boothill…’m gonna cum-“ Robin moaned softly, her body tensing up, he started giving long licks, before lapping at her clit rapidly, after a few moments, he mumbled against her pussy. “cum for me, baby, it’s okay, let go.” she than came undone on his tongue, closing her eyes as her wings fluttered slightly, her thighs clenching around his head, tugging at his hair as her orgasm washed over her, moaning out his name softly.

he kept pleasuring her through her orgasm, and once she finally relaxed, he gave a soft kiss to her pussy, and leaned up.

“glory, darlin…look how soaked you are for me!” he smiled with pride, licking his lips, he slowly climbed over her, his cock pressing against her stomach, he leaned down and wrapped a arm behind her head, the other holding Robin’s hip, caressing her softly.

“Tell me when you’re ready for me darlin.” He kissed her forehead, and brushed a couple strands of her pale blue hair out of her face, his eyes half lidded.

~

After a five minutes of letting her relax, she gently pokes his cheek and snuggles closer to him, spreading her legs slightly.

“I’m ready, love.” she cooed softly against his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck.

he stared down at her and slowly moved up, propping himself up by his elbows, he stared down at her body for a moment, and smiled, kissing her forehead. “hold on, angel..” he slowly positioned his cock head at her entrance, and pushed in slightly, inch by inch, she whimpered as she was stretched by his cock, a drop of sweat dripping down her neck.

he leaned down and licked her neck softly, and started nibbling her neck, as he pushed himself in, groaning, she squirmed a bit, her breathing growing heavier, once his cock reached deep inside her love canal, she whimpers, and tenses up, her pussy squeezing around his cock tightly. he moans into her neck, and mumbled gently. “baby..you okay?…you tightened up..ya tense?” He kisses her neck and leans up, staring down at her, he moves a hand to her face, and rubs her cheek, kissing her lips.

once he pulls away, she shakes her head, and motions for him to start moving. “D-Dear…’m okay…move..please…” he sighs, and slowly grabs her arms, pushing them down, and interlocking their hands, he couldn’t feel her skin with his hands, he couldn’t feel her warmth, but he still wanted to comfort her, to make her feel safe.

he loves her so much, he really does, he can’t imagine being with any other women.

thrust

he only wants her.

thrust

he only needs her.

thrust

he only loves her.

He groans, moaning her name softly. “f-fudge!- aeons…Robin, yer doing so good..oh..yeah, babydoll..” his thrusts are at the perfect pace, the perfect angle, hitting right against her sweet spot, making her squirm and moan, her back arching off the bed, their soft moans filling the room, her eyes watered. ”B-Boothill…I…I love you so much!” she cooed, he filled her up so well, she squirmed her hips, his cock ramming into her, picking up the speed, he groaned into her ear repeatedly, grabbing her hips as he pounded into her passionately, occasionally slowing his hips down only to speed up once again, making her moans roll off her tongue slowly, soft coos leaving her throat.

“Mm..I love you too Robin…love ya so much, darlin..”

He glanced at the wings behind her ears, and suddenly leaned his hands over, grabbing both of them on either side, using them as handles as he thrusted inside her.

A loud moan left her lips, tears of pleasure spilling out, drooling slightly, her hips bucking upwards again.

he rolled his hips up in a way that hit her cervix, making her throw her head back.

his thumb caressed her wings slowly as he tugged them as gently as he could while he thrusted into her. She cried, and he almost slowed down. “baby? You okay? You need me to stop?-“

She quickly shook her head, and whined, her body twitching slightly, legs shaking, yet she wanted him to keep going, he sighed softly, and kissed her forehead, letting go of her wings as he wrapped his arms around her, and continued his thrusts, speeding up again quickly.

They both felt their orgasms building up rather quickly, and he groaned into her hair, he could go all night, but he could see she was pretty damn exhausted. “let go, Robin, just relax, I’ll take care of everything, just let go..cmon baby, you’re so close, you can do it, baby girl.” he moaned into her ear, thrusting faster and faster, and she whined, hugging him tightly, and her pussy tightened and squeezed around his cock, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt her orgasm rising to the very top.

he moaned against her cheek, and slammed his lips against hers, kissing her passionately as they came together, his cum filling her up as her orgasm washed over her intensely, her body twitching, he kept thrusting his cum into her, and slowed down after a few moments, fucking her through her orgasm as he moved his head up, staring down at her, with a satisfied smiled, caressing her back. “there ya go, sweetheart…ya feel good?..” he kissed her sweaty forehead, as her shaken breaths slowed down, and her twitching came to a stop, her body relaxed into the bed, going limp as her wings drooped downwards slightly, after a few moments, she whispered in a soft voice.

“mhm…” she paused, and stared at him with her big teal-emerald eyes, and smiled at him. “I love you.” he chuckled softly, and tilted his head. “I love ya too, Robin.”

~

after their intense lovemaking session, he decided to let her rest for the rest of the night, after all, he had all tomorrow to make love to her.

“How was it, sweet cheeks?” He murmured to her. she curled up in his arms, snuggling closer, his robotic fingers combed through her hair repeatedly. “perfect, as always.” she leaned a hand up, and started braiding some strands of his hair, smiling slightly at him.

“Heh, as always, huh? Guess you’re a pretty lucky gal.” he kissed her forehead again, rubbing her lower back with her cold, metallic fingers, it was hot outside anyways, his cool touch felt nice. “And you’re a pretty lucky man, right?” “luckiest in the world.” She giggled softly, and continued to make small braids in his hair. after some comfortable silence, he continued. “whatcha wanna do tomorrow? Shall I take my lady shopping? You wanna go see a movie?” she paused, and kissed his cheek.

“let’s stay in the hotel all day, laze around…I need some downtime” her words made him grin, and he shook his head, and brushed the wings behind her ears with his robotic fingers. “Yes ma’am.” he eyed her up and down for a moment. “Do I get to pleasure ya all day?” “of course.” she cooed, as he started massaging her thighs, and sighed, he slowly leaned down and buried his face in her breasts, closing his eyes. “mm…you a real beauty…ya know that darlin?” she sighs and kisses the top of his head, caressing the back of his head gently as she held him close. “I know, you and half the galaxy tell me everyday.” She pauses. “I like hearing it more from you though.” he chuckles, and kisses her collarbone. “I know you do, sugar..”

they lay in silence, her hands slowly caressing his head as his robotic arms squeeze around her waist and thighs, occasionally planting a kiss on her collarbone or neck.

after a few minutes, Robin yawns, and curls up closer to him, as he pulls the blankets over their shoulders.

“I love you”

“I love you too”

Fin

꒰ა ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ໒꒱

OMFG. FOUR WEEKS. FOUR WEEKS OF PROCRASTINATION, REWRITING, AND BRAINSTORMING, it’s finally done! HORRAY! 😍

I got a tad lazy near the end but I put sooo much effort and work into this, and I really hope it came out good,

I love robinhill so much and I feel like there isn’t enough content of them at all! So I hope this gets popular enough just to get robinhill more noticed, because I really love this stupid silly ship 🩷

I hope it was an enjoyable experience for anyone who was reading, good morning, good afternoon, and goodnight! - Songbird

[sapphire-writes]

Our Last Summer (modern!HOTD)

part 7 of 10 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond realizes he messed things up with you and attempts to reconcile at the summer carnival.

word count: 5.5k

rating: Mature/Explicit/18+

warnings below the cut!

warnings: language, exhibitionism, oral (fem-receiving), fingering, kissing

note: im starting to become obsessed with them ngl 🧍🏻‍♀️

dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

as always, comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated but not expected ❤️

AEMOND POV

Aemond knew he had fucked up.

Royally, fucked up.

Something he finds himself doing quite often. It had been several days since the hot tub incident. Several days since he’d last spoken to her. Aemond glances at his phone again, watching the time change as Helaena hurries down the stairs.  

“Morning,” she calls, tossing her phone onto the couch and stretching her arms above her head with a satisfied sigh.

“It’s noon,” Aemond tells her.

“Where’s Y/N?” Helaena asks, sliding onto the couch next to him. 

She lets her feet hang off the edge of the armrest, her neck straining over the cushion as though she’s about to topple off of the sofa altogether. It looks quite uncomfortable, and wildly different from Aemond’s rigid posture as he frowns over his phone. 

“How should I know?”

“You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Helaena muses, playing with a strand of her hair, “You usually have your companions over more frequently, if I recall.”

Trying to, Aemond thinks to himself, his jaw clenched. If she’d return my calls.

“She’s upset with me,” Aemond admits, tossing his phone to the side. It’s always been hard to keep the truth from Helaena.

Helaena makes a noise of contempt.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll fix it. You’re clever that way,” Hel encourages, “Perhaps a grand gesture of sorts? Something Austen-esque.” 

A phone buzzes on the sofa. Aemond checks his anyway, though he knows it’s Hel’s as she reaches for it. 

“It’s whatever,” Aemond lies through his teeth, “Plenty of girls around for the summer.”

“Oh for fucks sake,” Helaena says, twisting her body so she’s upright on the couch, “Can you calm down the fuckboy-sona for five fucking minutes?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aemond says, shrugging.

Helaena rolls her eyes. 

“Okay Egg,” she says with a sneer, “Manwhoring doesn’t look good on you Aem. It’s not in your nature. Doesn’t suit you at all.”

“Suits my cock just fine,” he says, causing Helaena to make a face of disgust. 

“Gross,” she says, nose still scrunched, “It’s not you.”

Aemond doesn’t answer. Just glances at his phone again. The time greets him, but no other notifications. He opens Instagram, trying to avoid Helaena’s piercing gaze. As the app opens, he notices your profile picture, signifying you’ve posted a story. He shamelessly clicks on it, revealing you were at Seasnake Scoops seven minutes ago. 

Perfect. 

“Are you in the mood for ice cream?” Aemond asks, changing the subject and rising from the couch. 

Helaena’s frown deepens. 

“Aemond-”

“Hel, unless you’re saying yes or no to ice cream, just drop it,” he snaps, moving quickly to leave the room. 

“Oh fuck you,” Helaena says, rising from the couch and following him, “You’re just scared Aemond! Fucking scared.”

He hears every word, though he pretends he doesn’t as the front door slams shut behind him, leaving Helaena alone in the house.

 The last time Aemond Targaryen was in Seasnake Scoops it was not a pleasant experience. He’d been around thirteen years old at the time, and Aegon had assured him that Cece Lannister was waiting, expecting a date with him. 

Aemond remembered how nervous he felt. Though Cece wasn’t his cup of tea, she was beautiful, smart, and held the social status and respect that Aemond craved. A date with Cece was sure to turn the tide for him.  

He’d waited all afternoon for her. Seated at a table, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves. As people wandered in and out, the lady lion never made an appearance. It was Rhaenyra who found him as the sun began to set, seated on the curb outside the ice cream shop.

It had all been a joke, he’d realized once he entered the house. Aegon was in stitches until his mother smacked him upside the head and yelled at him. Aemond had stayed solemn, walking straight to his room without speaking.

They are always going to laugh at you, he thought to himself. 

Standing outside the ice cream shop left a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Seasnake Scoops was unopposing in itself; it was the memories that haunted it. A small ice cream shop with some tables outside, with blue and white umbrellas offering some shade. There was indoor seating as well with air conditioning. 

Aemond stared at the people in line to order, scanning the small crowd for you. The nervous feeling returned being surrounded by all these people, remembering Cece.

Until he saw her.

She had turned her head, reaching for some napkins as the cashier handed her a soft serve twist in a cone covered in rainbow sprinkles. She smiles politely, thanking them before licking a stripe up the side of the frozen treat. There’s something so sweet about the way her eyes light up, Aemond finds himself smiling as she licks her lips. 

She turns to leave the line and his eye meets hers. It’s as though someone switches off the light behind her eyes completely. 

Cold is the only way to describe the look she awards him, as her mouth falls into a straight line. Aemond only holds her gaze for a moment before she looks towards the ground and begins to quicken her pace. But Aemond is faster.

“Y/N,” he calls, blocking her path back up the stairs inside. 

She sighs, avoiding his gaze, assessing whether or not she can squeeze around him.

“Move,” she tells him.

“You’re not answering my texts,” he says, confusion evident in his voice, “Or my calls.”

“Yeah,” she says, “Maybe you should take the hint.”

“I haven’t heard from you all week.”

“I’m trying to eat my ice cream Aemond,” she tells him, “What are you stalking me now?”

“Viewing an Instagram story is hardly a punishable offense,” he tells her.

“Just a reminder to block you later,” she tells him.

Aemond’s heart sinks at her words. There’s no playful banter in her tone, no note of excitement. She’s deadly serious. 

“Goodbye,” she tells him, moving past him.

You’re losing her, he realizes. Do something. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Aemond says suddenly, “Y/N, I didn’t mean what I-”

“You know what, Aemond?” she says, her gaze icy, “I don’t care what you meant or didn’t mean. I care about what you said.”

Aemond’s chest tightens at her words. She’s standing tall, the ice cream beginning to drip down the cone between her small fingers. She ignores it if she even notices, but Aemond’s eye follows the sticky river beginning to form. He gets a sudden urge to lick the mess from her hand and pull her towards him covering her in sticky kisses. 

Seven hells. Stop it. 

Aemond blinks as she turns away, before giving him one last lingering look.

“Will is waiting for me,” she tells him, and the ache in his chest grows.

“Will?” he asks, the one-syllable tasting like poison on his tongue.

“Yes, Will,” she says, annoyance in her tone, “People who like each other go on dates. They date each other. I know that must be a foreign concept to you.”

Aemond says nothing, just clenches his teeth so tightly together his jaw begins to ache.

“Maybe give Floris a ring or one of your other friends. I’m sure there’s someone convenient for you,” she says, turning and walking away. 

Aemond lets her go, watching as she goes inside Seasnake Scoops, the door slamming shut behind her. The second time in his life he’s been left alone there. 

READER POV

“You can’t do this!” Baela’s voice calls from the hallway, “You can’t make me!”

You quickly leap out of bed at the sound of your best friend’s distress, opening the door and flying down the stairs. After your run-in with Aemond, you’d returned to your room to sulk for the majority of the afternoon. 

Baela stands below, arms crossed, tear tracks running down her cheeks. Rhaenys stands in front of her, hands folded, a stern expression on her face.

“Baela, it is one dinner-”

“It’s always one dinner,” Baela says, through her teeth, “One dinner, then another, then ‘we have to all go together Baela, as a family’,” she deepens her voice to the likeness of her father, “Like I want to go to that stupid gala and pretend everything is fucking fine!”

Rhaenys moved forward, taking Baela’s hands in her own.

“You’re angry,” she says to her softly, “You have every right to be. But don’t shut him out, dōna jorrāelagon (sweet love). Not when he’s finally trying.”

“For her,” Baela says, quietly, “He’s trying for her.”

“Rhaenyra is trying as well,” Rhaenys assures her, “You are not replacing your mother by letting her in.”

Baela yanks her hands away, angry tears spilling from her eyes. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

“I can’t forgive him,” Baela insists, “I can’t do it. I can’t forgive her either.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Rhaenys says, “I’m asking you to try.”

“This is me trying,” Baela snarls, “Staying away, letting them play happy family! That is me trying!”

Rhaenys purses her lips.

“Laena would-”

“Don’t,” Baela warns, shaking her head, “Don’t you dare.”

Her voice has dropped to a whisper. Rhaenys sighs, looking toward the floor. The tension between grandmother and granddaughter could be cut with a knife. Rhaenys looks back at Baela, drinking in her angered expression.

“You’re so much like her,” Rhaenys muses softly, before reaching out and stroking her cheek, “Full of so much fire.”

“I’m not going,” Baela insists.

“You are,” Rhaenys says, “I’ll hear no more of it. You can go to the carnival after.”

“Y/N will be all alone!” Baela says, pointing at you.

Rhaenys gives you an unimpressed look, but you nod quickly. Anything to help your best friend. 

Though Rhaenys doesn’t look like she buys it for one second.

“I’m sure Y/N will be fine for a couple of hours,” Rhaenys says, raising an eyebrow at you.

“She’s going to get lost,” Baela says, and you agree. 

Rhaenys gives you a stern glance, one only a grandmother can deliver. Baela loops her arm through yours, holding her chin high. You crack first under Rhaenys glare. 

“I’m sure I’ll be okay for a little bit,” you say quietly. 

Rhaenys smiles at her success as Baela drops your arm with a groan. You give her an apologetic smile, knowing you’ve doomed her to another dinner with her father and stepmother.

You arrive at the carnival just as the sun goes down. It’s already crowded with people, the lights from all the rides making everyone glow with neon colors. The smell of fried food and the sound of laughter fills the air as you wade through the sea of people. You decided on a simple baby blue sundress, styling your hair off of your shoulders. It’s been so hot recently, you can’t stand the feeling of having your hair down.

You glance at your phone, though Helaena has yet to respond. You promised you’d meet her at the main ticket stand. 

The minutes tick by and you’re still standing with a rope of red tickets when your phone buzzes letting you know that Helaena had fallen asleep after losing track of time. You sigh, checking your other messages. There’s one from Will asking to meet up later paired with an emoji of a Ferris wheel. 

You want to smile, but your stomach turns instead. You can’t help but think of Aemond. Will is nice, very sweet, but it was evident after your ice cream date that you don’t have much in common. And there’s no spark.

When you told Baela, she’d raised an eyebrow at you.

“Spark?” she questioned.

“You know,” you tell her, talking with your hands as you tried to explain, “That feeling just, deep in your gut. Like being pulled to another person. Something that just feels…..right.”

That wasn’t there with Will. And you couldn’t fake a spark.

You sigh, tilting your head back and looking around, trying to determine what you should get to snack on while waiting for Helaena. A booth advertising fried Oreos piques your interest before a tall silver head catches your eye.

Something in your gut tightens with an intense need as you watch Aemond say something to Aegon. He’s wearing all black, as he often is. It’s as though Aemond is allergic to color. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you don’t know whether you hope he does or doesn’t.

You need to be firm, to hold the boundary you set with him. He doesn’t get to disrespect you like that. No matter how attracted to him you are. You may like Aemond- you may like fucking Aemond- but you love yourself more. 

His head turns and you look away before meeting those violet and blue eyes. You don’t know how strong your resolve will be if he looks at you again.

“Having fun?” a voice calls, causing you to turn and meet the sapphire eyes of Floris Baratheon.

She looks gorgeous, though you can’t imagine a time when she doesn’t; clad in a skin-tight green dress with her dark curls pulled into a high ponytail. You force a smile as she walks closer, a concerned look in her cobalt eyes. Classic mean girl, Helaena had called her. She certainly looks the part but then again, all beautiful people do. 

“Not really,” you admit, feeling your chest tighten.

“Me either,” she agrees, smiling softly, “Ellyn ditched me to hook up with Eddie Karstark behind the tilt-a-whirl. Can you believe?”

“That sucks,” you tell her. You hadn’t met Ellyn, but you’d seen her around the country club.

She gives you another small smile, following your gaze and landing on Aemond. Her smile drops as her lips form a tight line.

“Is he giving you the run around too?” she asks, looking back at you.

You can feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment. 

“Something like that,” you admit, letting your eyes fall to your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Floris says, “Seriously. It fucking sucks.”

“It’s my own fault,” you tell her, “I made things messy.”

“Aemond makes things messy,” Floris insists, “I don’t think he can help it. He’s emotionally stunted.”

“I think you’re right,” you agree. 

Floris grabs your hand.

“C’mon,” she says, tugging you along.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Funnel cake,” she says, leading you through different booths, “We need funnel cake and then we need to shoot something. Or throw darts. Or both.”

You giggle and nod in agreement, letting her pull you along.

After eating all the funnel cake your body can handle and playing several rounds of balloon darts (something Floris is scarily good at) you make your way toward the Ferris wheel. It’s huge, the largest attraction at the carnival, with roomy compartments holding small groups of people.

Floris stops in front of it, glancing at you nervously. The change in demeanor makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

Floris’s cheeks turn a bright pink as she sighs, wetting her lips. 

“Have you….heard any rumors about Aemond and me?” she asks, “or Aemond and my sisters?”

No of course not, you think to yourself. Cause that would be crazy, an incestuous orgy of beautiful girls and the ethereal man who fucks like a god? No fucking way.

You’d tried very hard not to think about that.

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head, “What rumor?”

Floris seems unconvinced by your white lie. 

“People are gross,” she says, cheeks still darkened with blush, “Look nothing happened. It’s just-” she sighs, “The Ferris wheel is a very romantic spot.”

“Okay,” you tell her.

She nervously chews her lower lip, batting her lashes up at the Ferris wheel. 

“So Aemond invited me to ride with him last summer,” she says, shaking her head, “And he kissed me because guys do that when they take you on the Ferris wheel.”

A kiss. An innocent, sweet little kiss. That’s all it was. Your heart hammers in your chest thinking of Aemond asking Floris, the romantic gesture of it all.

“That’s really sweet,” you tell her, smiling.

“It was,” she agrees, “Until I found out he did the same thing with Cassandra, Ellyn, and Maris.”

Oh. Well, there it is.

“Well, I mean Maris didn’t end up kissing him,” Floris corrects herself, “But Cass and El did. And do you know what Aemond told me when I confronted him about it?”

You shake your head.

“He said I was the best kisser. And if I wanted to be friends with benefits for the summer, that would be cool,” she says, crossing her arms, “I was so naive. So fucking flattered that of course, I agreed. I mean, who says no when Aemond Targaryen says he wants to fuck you?”

She bites the tip of her tongue, as though reminiscing just what fucking Aemond entails before shaking her head. 

“Aemond Targaryen holds his own private kissing contest, and now I’m stuck with the rumor I had an orgy with my sisters,” she groans, “Fucking perfect.”

Damn. You can’t help but feel bad for Floris. That’s a skeevy thing Aemond did. She’s looking up at the Ferris Wheel as though she wants to melt it with lasers shooting from her eyes. You’ve begun to like Floris over the course of this evening. She could’ve been rude to you, mean even. You were fucking her ex-situationship after all.

But instead, she’d seen you upset and spent the rest of the evening with you. It’s your turn to return the favor. 

“Ferris wheel orgy,” you say, matter-of-factly, “If anyone believes that, they’re fucked in the head. Totally not enough room in those carriages for all that” You wave your arm around for emphasis.

Floris bursts out into a laugh, reaching to cover her mouth with her hand. You can’t help but laugh along with her. Floris Baratheon is a-okay in your book. 

“It’s fucking ridiculous,” she says snickering, “Guys will believe anything.”

“They’ve got holes in their brains,” you assure her.

Floris continues to laugh, shaking her head and wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. It feels good to laugh with her and forget about the drama surrounding you for a moment. 

“For sure,” she agrees, “Ugh. Do you want to go on? I promise no kissing, and no orgies.”

You laugh again at her joke. 

“Sure,” you tell her with a smile.

You walk up to the operator of the Ferris wheel and hand him your last two tickets. Everyone has exited the Ferris wheel, so you get in the first compartment. You move forward scooting onto one of the benches as Floris digs in her purse.

“Shit, I’m out!” she says with a groan, “I’ll go grab more, be right back!”

She flies down the stairs, hurrying over to the ticket booth. You glance at the conductor, knowing you must be holding up the line.

“Do you mind waiting?” you ask.

The twenty-something-year-old looks as if he’d rather be diving headfirst off a cliff than operating this ride, but he sighs dramatically and nods at your request. You clasp your hands in your lap when someone else enters the compartment and sits in the seat across from you. 

Aemond.

“Out,” you tell him, frowning, “Seriously, Aemond I thought I was clear.”

“We need to talk,” Aemond insists.

“We talked at Scoops, I have nothing left to say to you,” you insist, before changing your mind, “You know what? Actually, I do. Kissing Floris and her sisters? Really?”

You swear Aemond’s cheeks flush, and he glances away momentarily, before reaching out and snapping toward the attendant. 

“$50 to send us up now,” he tells him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fifty-dollar bill. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Aem-”

“And $50 more to stop us at the top. Fifteen minutes, tops,” Aemond finishes, adding another fifty between his slender fingers. 

The attendant’s eyes bug out of his head as he takes the money, shutting the door of the carriage. 

“No!” you say, watching the attendant return to the podium, “No! Dude, what about my friend? We have to wait for her!” Your voice is several pitches higher than you like, but it's due to being alone with Aemond. 

The attendant raises an eyebrow at you.

“Got fifty bucks?” he asks.

Your eyebrows lift in shock.

“No!” you squeak, panic bubbling in your throat.

The attendant shrugs, throwing the handle forward making the Ferris wheel begin to move. Your jaw drops as you slowly begin to ascend and watch in horror as Floris returns, her expression mirrors yours as she notices Aemond in the carriage with you. You clutch the edge of the compartment, leaning over the edge as you start moving farther from the ground.

“Asshole!” you yell down to the attendant before sinking into your seat and crossing your arms and legs. 

Aemond sits silently, though you know he must be gleeful about getting you alone. The compartments below you are empty, you’ve been sent up alone. 

“Y/N,” he says, but you don’t look at him. 

You just look over the side of the carriage at the rest of the carnival as everything begins to grow smaller and smaller. You can see the country club, the golf courses, the tents being set up for the gala. The lights from Driftmark and Dragonstone are even visible in the distance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

That gets your attention. You whip your head towards him, watching him leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. You still don’t speak. Too angry, too hurt, too humiliated to say anything. Your brows are knit together, lips pressed into a tight line. No tears tonight, you cried enough over him. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, “I never should have spoken to you that way, or said those horrible things. It was disgusting and inexcusable.”

Aemond wets his lips. The Ferris wheel comes to a stop as you reach the top, the compartment swinging gently with the force of the brakes. You uncross your arms, steadying yourself. 

“I haven’t been that vulnerable with anyone in a long time,” he admits, “That’s not an excuse, believe me, that doesn’t excuse what I said, but I-” he runs a hand through his hair, struggling to find the words, “You were right.”

You want to remain silent as that violet eye watches you. Surely you can sit for fifteen minutes of silence. You cross your arms once more, trying to remain strong. 

“About what?” you ask, cursing yourself.

The corner of Aemond’s mouth twitches, and something tugs in your chest as it does. You dig your nails into your bicep, trying to ground yourself. If you look at him too long, you’re afraid you’ll float away. 

“About you growing on me,” he says softly.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t know when this started, really. But since the hot tub something changed. Something inside you clicked, and suddenly you can’t look at Aemond Targaryen without wanting to kiss him.

“I don’t like…feeling out of control,” he admits, lacing his fingers together, “And you make me feel…fucking crazy.”

You want to believe him. You do. But Floris is on the ground below, and she was in the same position you were. Believed Aemond cared about her. As Aemond’s walls begin to let some light in, you can feel your own going up.

“How am I supposed to believe that?” you tell him, arms still crossed, “You said it yourself, you fuck, you talk like that, but you don’t get feelings. It’s one of your rules.”

“I’m figuring out none of those rules apply to you,” he says, observing you carefully.

You shake your head. 

“I don’t think I believe you,” you tell him, “I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“I haven’t been the best person,” Aemond admits, “I’ve hurt people because I was hurting. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

His fingers are laced together and he braces his forehead on his clasped hands. 

“I can’t,” you tell him softly, “Aemond I can’t.”

You don’t want to get hurt. Don’t want him to hurt you more than he already has. If you let him in deeper, it’s going to be so much more painful than it already has been. Aemond looks up, resting his chin on his hands. His gaze is soft, and a breeze rolls through causing you to shiver. 

“Let me show you,” he says softly, “Please. What can I do? I’ll do anything.”

Aemond’s hands are outspread, a pleading gesture. How could he prove himself? If he really wants to change, for the better. 

“Apologize to Floris,” you say suddenly, “She deserves it. All her sisters do.”

“Done,” Aemond answers immediately.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “I don’t know if I want to do this with you anymore.”

“Let me show you how sorry I am,” he says, kneeling forward on the floor; the compartment shakes with the movement.

Your cheeks flush when you realize what he intends to do.

“Aemond-” you say as his hands brush over your thighs, pushing your dress up.

You look over the side of the compartment, eyes wide. You’re all the way at the top, looking over everyone else. No one can see, and yet you’re dangerously exposed at the top of the Ferris wheel. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and your heart beats wildly in your chest as Aemond’s fingers curl along your panties. 

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmurs, dragging the fabric down. You lift your hips to assist him.

It’s almost unconscious, the way your body reacts to him. He plays your body like an instrument; every touch has you melting into him, bending to his wishes. Aemond removes your panties, placing them in his pocket for safekeeping. His violet eye watches you, waiting for what you say next. You bite your lip in desperation, trying to ignore the feeling of his hand under your ass, keeping your center propped off the seat. 

He holds you with ease, letting his other hand slip under your opposite thigh. It’s driving you crazy. He’s driving you crazy. 

“Y/N,” he says, voice a desperate whine, like it’s taking everything in him not to bury his face in your pussy. 

You’re already wet, you can feel it. There’s no use, you can’t ignore the feeling in your chest, the desperate ache between your legs. You want him, you need him so bad you feel like you might go insane without his lips on you. 

“Please,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it, “Please Y/N.” You can feel his hands trembling against you, as though he’s ready to snap.

“Yes,” you tell him, and with a desperate growl, he dips his head below your skirt.

His mouth glues itself to your dripping slit, tongue diving between your folds as you bury your hands in his hair. You sling your legs over his shoulders, desperate to push him deeper, and harder against you, especially as his tongue moves to circle your entrance. 

“Fuck,” you mewl as the warm, wet muscle dips inside of you, and Aemond moans-fucking moans-as he moves it in and out. 

Your heels are digging into his toned shoulders, nails raking against his scalp but if it pains him, Aemond doesn’t let it show in the slightest. He’s simply devouring you, groaning with every shudder and stifled moan you award him. With every movement of his head, his nose rubs pleasantly against your clit, sending waves of pleasurable warmth coursing throughout your body. 

Aemond pulls away suddenly, his mouth shining with your arousal, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and begins sucking on them. He meets your eyes before dipping his head down again between your thighs, fingers replacing his tongue and stretching into you. He curves them upwards against your tender, spongy walls, and your spine arches off of the seat, mouth falling open in pleasure. 

“Fucking missed this pussy,” he groans, lazily fingering you before bringing his mouth to the apex of your thighs.

His tongue swirls around your needy clit and you can feel your stomach tightening. 

“Forgive me,” he murmurs, placing a kiss on top of your clit before swirling his tongue around it once more.

“That’s not fair,” you answer, breathlessly, “Oh my fucking-oh.”

You can feel Aemond’s smile against you, feel him flatten his tongue on your clit before rubbing steady circles with the warm muscle of his tongue. He strokes your sweet spoke with his fingers effortlessly, your legs trembling on his shoulders. 

“Please,” he says with a groan, “Please, I can’t fucking stand it-”

“Oh!” your nails dig into his scalp as you clench around his fingers, your release barrelling through you.

Aemond slowly removes his fingers, pressing them between his lips and licking them clean before you grab him by the shirt collar pulling him towards you. Your mouth is on his in an instant and it feels like fireworks have gone off in your brain.

He kisses you ferociously, one hand grabbing the back of your neck and anchoring you against him; the other wraps around your waist, pulling you off the seat and holding you flush against him. Your legs are straddling him and you can feel how hard he is underneath you. You’re kissing him desperately, it's all clashing teeth and gasps as you press yourself against him harder. You can’t be close enough, can’t be held tight enough. It's not enough, not enough. 

The Ferris wheel begins to move, slowly but surely beginning its descent and you pull away, gasping for breath. You’re both breathing heavily, so close you can feel the brush of his lips against yours with every exhale. 

“I can’t stand it,” he whispers, voice breaking as he strokes the back of your head.

“I know,” you whisper back, kissing him softly.

You untangle yourselves from each other as the Ferris wheel comes to a stop, pushing yourself back onto the seat to avoid suspicion. Thankfully, your dress is long enough because there was no time to put your panties back on and you’d rather not have your bare ass on the seat of the Ferris wheel.

The attendant opens the door, none the wiser to what you and Aemond were up to in the middle of the air. 

You exit the compartment on shaky legs, turning back to Aemond.

“Forgive me?” he asks, watching you.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, walking down to Floris, who is now holding a half-eaten fried Twinkie.

“Dude, that took forever,” she tells you, “What did you even talk about-”

“Floris,” Aemond calls, walking over.

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline, cheeks darkening as he approaches. But Floris Baratheon doesn’t back down. No matter how she feels about Aemond, she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eye.

“I owe you an apology,” Aemond begins, “For everything.”

Her chin tilts higher in the air.

“I was cruel to you when I shouldn’t have been,” he continues, “And I should have shut down those rumors when I heard them. I shouldn’t have treated you or your sisters that way in the first place and I’ll be telling them that as well.”

“Well Maris is in Oldtown,” Floris says cooly, “She stayed for the summer to do research.”

“Next semester then,” Aemond agrees.

Floris looks him up and down.

“Thank you,” she says and Aemond nods. 

Her phone buzzes in her chest and she hands you her twinkie as she reaches between her boobs to grab it. She frowns.

“El needs rescuing,” she says, “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure her, “I’m good, really.”

“I had fun tonight,” she tells you, “Let’s hang out again.”

“We could always use more help on Seasmoke,” you tell her.

“Cool, later Y/N,” she says, “Bye Aemond.”

As Floris leaves you turn to begin walking as well. Baela should be here by now and hopefully, Helaena has found her way down here. Aemond grabs your hand, stopping you.

“You won’t forgive me?” he asks.

“I said I’d think about it,” you tell him, still being cautious.

“Y/N-”

“Look, there’s something here,” you tell him, “Definitely, but…” I’m scared.

You can’t finish the sentence but you read it in his eye too. 

“Go with me,” he says suddenly, “To the gala and the auction.”

“What?”

“As my date,” he says, “Be my date.”

“You don’t date.”

“I do now,” he argues, his voice insistent, “I date….I want to date you.”

He steps closer, taking your other hand. There’s that feeling again. Deep in your gut, pulling you toward him. A fire ignited within you, sparked by his touch. 

“Come with me,” he says softly, “Please.”

You stretch up onto your tiptoes capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s the only answer you can give right now, but the only answer he needs.

OLS Taglist: @talesofoldandnew, @aemondslefteyeball, @urmomsgirlfriend1, @castellomargot, @high-on-darren-criss, @diosademuerte, @padfooteyes, @tempo-rary-fix, @amirawritespoorly, @chainsawsangel, @toodlesxcuddles, @tssf-imagines, @malfoytargaryen, @nina2697, @glame, @joliettes, @yentroucnagol

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@m1ndbrand, @herfantasyworldd, @sunna-fangirls, @carriellie, @elle4404, @fan-goddess, @jamespotterismydaddy @shessthunderstoms @carriellie @sunna-fangirls @dancingqueen0

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[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [10 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You see that the grass sea does truly have an end.  

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: 👀 as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome! thank you! mind the warnings ❤️

Steve wakes you before dawn. 

You’re still tired from the hard rides in the days before, only managing to stay upright on your horse through sheer force of will alone. The others are more experienced at sleeping in the saddle than you, who begins to slip out of it just as soon as your eyes drift shut. 

Riding in the middle of the pack had meant you had no responsibility other than to keep ranks, to follow the path set in front of you. But at the front, Steve had had different requirements. 

Hold your hand like this, Sweetmeat. Which way’s the wind leaning? 

Ride up ahead, Little One. Tell me what you see. 

You see the first stars on the horizon? Good. Spread your fingers like this—ah. See? That tells us how far we have left to go. 

When his hand falls upon your shoulder, you lurch in the saddle, a hand flying to the hilt of your short sword as the other grips the reins. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat.” You feel Steve’s hand close around your own, re-sheathing your partially drawn sword with a click. “Ready for battle?” He asks with a chuckle, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shouldn’t I always be?” You shoot back, before stifling a yawn. The sky is still dark above you, only just beginning to turn orange and indigo at the edges.  The shapes Steve had taught you to look for—Tirth’s Throne, Ginza the bear—are high in the sky now, directly overhead. 

“Is something wrong? We haven’t lost course, have we?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow. “No, we have not.” He seems almost… Proud. “How dutiful.” It is not the most flowery compliment to be sure, but it makes you bite your lip and look away anyway. Perhaps it is the look of admiration that makes you nervous—yes, nervous. Certainly that is what the trembling is in your belly, the reason you look for something to do with your hands. You settle on smoothing out your skirt. 

“That was your purpose in teaching me navigation, was it not?” You ask, and he laughs. 

“If you like.” His horse falls into step beside yours. Even his horse is a massive beast, larger at least by half than the mare you sit astride. 

“Then why wake me?” 

The smile that creeps across the Orc’s face makes you look away for the pounding in your chest. 

“I promised you wondrous sights, did I not?”

—

At his bidding, you had handed Carol the reins to your horse, stammering and staring at the ground you wished might open up to swallow you. You can feel the eyes of the pack on your back, Steve’s especially. Carol elbows you, the force of it making you stumble. 

“Not one but two, eh?” She grins so wide her tusks poke into the apples of her cheeks. Your whole body prickles.

“I do not know what you mean.” You loop a stray curl away behind your ear. “Take good care of my horse, will you?”

“Mm. Like my own.” 

You return to Steve, who holds out his hand, beckoning. 

“It is faster with just one,” he explains. Your hand seems tiny in his as he grips it and swings you up in front of him. Hopefully he cannot feel how hard your heart is beating, or hear how fast the blood rushes in your veins. He’s warm behind you, the bare skin of his tattooed chest pressing against you through the back of your dress, and touching you where the sleeves had been torn off for convenience. You stiffen as he lowers his head to speak directly into your ear. 

“Hold onto the saddle.” 

You do, yelping as the horse rears back before taking off. The beat of its hooves is tremendous as it races into the horizon, pounding against the earth like a great drum. Carol is a speck behind you in moments, lost in the shifting grass. You ride until you are sure the pack lies many leagues behind you now, and the sea has well and truly swallowed them. But finally Steve brings the beast to heel, slowing, and you see that there is an end to the low hills and little rivers of the zikaegina—here, at least. Countless days and nights from the village you’d known but there is at least one place where the grass sea does not truly meet the sky. 

The air smells of water and something familiar but unidentifiable, and as Steve slows, you see the grass is shorter, windswept and crusted with white. He dismounts behind you, before helping you down. You run a hand over the stiff, almost frosted grass, and then bring a finger to your lips. 

Salt.

There is a sound almost like wind through the tall grass but louder, like deep and resounding thunder. 

“What is that?” You turn to stare at Steve, wide eyed. He looks up from hobbling the horse, a small smile gracing his features as he loops the reins around the remains of a stunted tree. 

“Go and look. Mind the edge.” 

You creep forward, pushing your way through the grass until it’s almost a normal height, brushing against your knees. And the dirt—it’s looser, grittier, nothing like the hard packed red clay beneath the village, or the dark, moist soil of the grass sea. It is littered with tiny dried shells, circles and spirals and little five pointed stars, crunching beneath your feet. The grass ends in a sharp drop—a cliff. The salt-water smell is stronger than ever now, as is the wind and e sound. As you approach the edge with cautious steps, you see it—

Water. 

Deep and endless blue, like the green that stretches on forever behind you.  

Infinity meets infinity.

The waves slam against the sheer rocky cliffside, and even up here, miles above, you can feel the cool spray. You have never seen this much water at once, roiling and crashing. What swims beneath those waves, you wonder, what stares up at the sun through the shifting mirror of its surface? A curious, childish joy wells up in you at the sight of it, at this new wonder you behold with wide eyes. 

“What is this?” You shout to be heard over the cacophony of wind and waves and crumbling stone. The Orc who had been your captor is now behind you, you can feel his presence, like the world simply bends around him, held like a suspended breath. You do not know what you would call him now, as “captor” no longer seems fitting. 

“The sea.” You turn to face him, the wind whipping wildly at your hair and skirts. 

“It’s beautiful.” You turn back to watch the water, staring at place where it meets the horizon, a lifetime away. 

“Yes,” Steve says quietly. “It is.” Together, you watch as the sun rises, orange-red and shimmering from the depths. You sit in the grass, folding your legs beneath you as the glorious spectacle keeps you riveted. It isn’t the first time you’ve watched the sun rise, but now it seems incredible, beautiful instead of mundane.

“Did the sea come up here, once? Is that why there’s sand?”

“Once.” He nods. “I believe I told you of Molroch.” 

You nod. “You said he split the sea.” Steve smiles. 

“So they say.” He gestures at the grass sea, and at the sharp stone edge. In the distance, you see it curve around, stretching on for uncountable thousands of leagues before disappearing into the horizon. “And what do your people say?” 

“They say that Gods and giants dwell on the other side of the mountain.” The village sat as most settlements did in the Kingdom of Light—in the shadow of the mountains. They traveled parallel to the grass sea, hostile and uncrossable. It was forbidden anyway, a land shrouded in choking mist and marked by a chasm so deep that the bottom could never be reached. “They say Halith reached down and pulled up the mountains so the giants could never reach us again. That she went up into the sky to shine down upon us and shun them from her light.” 

You look back at the sea. “Is there anything on the other side?” 

“I don’t know, Sweetmeat.” He rises to his feet with a stretch. “Perhaps one day we shall find out. But today, we lead the pack to Tarrath.” Steve offers you his hand, and you take it. You stand, brushing sand and dry grass from your skirts as you do. 

“We’ll get there today?” You ask, wide eyed. Steve laughs. 

“Perhaps by nightfall.” You begin to make for the grass and his horse. “Wait.” He reaches for a pouch at his waist, and from it he pulls a cone shaped spiral shell, perhaps half the size of your palm. It’s pearly and iridescent, shining beautifully in the sun when you hold it up. Your cheeks heat. 

“A token.” He says, turning back toward the grass sea. “So you always remember. Hold it to your ear and listen.” He pantomimes holding it up, and you do, pressing your ear to the hole. After a moment, you hear it, a softer, quieter version of the booming crash of the water against the cliffside. You smile. 

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” 

Steve nods. “It is.” He is not looking at the shell, though. You tuck it carefully into the little pouch at your waist. 

“To Tarrath, then?” You ask, and Steve lifts his chin, tusks gleaming as his lips curve upward. 

“To Tarrath.” 

Brave Masterlist

next chapter

[signedeclipse]

Requests open! Yay! I'd like to request a oneshot with Hantengu: reader, a human, ends up somehow protecting/saving the scared little guy (from the sun, perhaps?) and he is now Attached and kinda crushing, living in their house, and tries to make a move but is just way too scared. So he does what any good demon would do: gets bashful and rips his head off so his clones can make a move for him. Surprise now there's four guys with a Big Crush and they're not quite so cute about it anymore (not that reader complains). Hope this request finds you well and thanks for being super rad! ❤️

All For You [Hantengu X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | Romance | Part 2 HERE Final HERE

Recomended Song - Cheri Cheri Lady by Modern Talking

In such a terrifying battle, he hadn't realised that despite killing the hashira, they had stranded him in a field with no shade and the sun was just moments away. He could run, but he didn't have much power remaining, so all he could do was try.

Even as he cried and wailed, he could hear what he could only assume was another member of the corps catching up to him, taking advantage of how little he had left in him.

If he needed to, he could surely muster just one more strike-

He could feel a burning heat on his back, causing a squeal, before it all stopped, and two arms fell in front of him, which he ran into and fell back into the grass.

Whimpering, the upper-rank shielded his face, waiting for some kind of attack, only to hear the rigorous panting of the being that had caught him.

Shakily, his hands moved from his face, gazing up to see that someone was on their elbows and knees, shielding him from the sun.

"Aren't you supposed to be hidden from the sun?" A head dipped down, looking curiously at the small being. You were just going for a stroll since you hadn't been able to sleep, and after hearing a loud commotion all you found was a weak, stranded demon.

The being shakily waited to see your movements, taking the chance to replenish itself. Hantengu had nowhere to run, unless he wanted to try digging.

"Well, I'm sure we can work this out." When your hand reached to him, he crouched and moved his hands to protect his head, which didn't stop you from hiding him in the thick cloth of your woollen cloak, which you had used to protect yourself from the cold spring air.

What was this human thinking? Hantengu pondered the implications, though realised if you were so certain about taking him in, he could always kill you when you got to shelter and he would be free once more. Besides, doing so now would be a waste with the sun around, and since the fabric surrounding him was so soft, warm, and smelt so, so enticing.

With the distraction hidden in your coat and your rushed jog back to your hidden home beyond the forest line and up a hill, you never looked back to catch a glimpse at the body left behind.

Before daring to remove him, you had shut all your blinds so little to no light peaked in, and turned on the light in your home yourself.

When he finally crawled out of your cloak of his own accord, which you had laid on the table and waited for him, his eyes scattered and landed on objects he deemed of importance.

One, a nichirin blade hung on the wall.

Two, a demon slayer corps uniform hanging beside your other garments on a rack.

And three, a portrait of a blue spider lily, one he recognized from one of Muzan's books.

Clearly, you were no normal human, you were a part of the corps. So then why weren't you dressed up and killing him? Perhaps you were going to try to reason with him, like many idiots had tried.

"Ah, you're finally awake."

Of course, he also noticed you sitting in a chair leant up against a wall, just a gust of wind away from it slipping and you falling. But you remained balanced for now.

"You don't have to worry, I won't harm you. I'm just trying to figure out why you haven't harmed me, is all!" In your hands was a cup of tea, which, when you sipped, left a line of green matcha on your lips. It disappeared when you took yet another sip, and set the cup down beside him.

"To be honest, chasing after you really exhausted me, so I think I better head to bed now. You can leave if you'd like should you find a way, but feel free to stay as long as you like."

With that, you left the cowering demon in the nest of a cloak, closing the sliding door to the other half of the cabin where your futon was. Hantengu watched as the lights in the room went out.

You awake early in the afternoon, having achieved a quarter of a day's rest.

Unfortunately serenity was not in the picture, for the moment you opened the sliding door you nearly fell back on your ass upon seeing a fully grown man sitting on one of two cushions by the low table, his hands neatly folded in his lap.

He looked to be asleep sitting, but you knew from experience that it was less akin to sleep, and more of a hibernation tactic demons had during the day.

Only now did a shiver run sharp down your spine, the intense energy surrounding the being only now just hitting you. You must have been so exhausted yesterday that none of it registered.

Limping towards your food prepping station, you picked up a wooden bucket, getting ready to retrieve water for your breakfast. Your leg was acting up again, perhaps you shouldn't have overexerted yourself hours prior.

Once you made movement towards the door, the being sat up semi-straight, red eyes glowing similar to the lanterns scattering the room. He looked to be moving away from you, but stopped when he analysed you as familiar.

You, on the other hand, nearly dropped the bucket upon reading the kanji in his eyes.

When he was small last night, you hadn't noticed. I mean, you were also tired and, god, what have you gotten yourself into?

Not even a low rank, he was upper rank four, god, your heart quickened to a point where you knew he'd notice. Sure, you were a member of the corps, but you'd been on leave for months now since you almost lost your leg, and you were still recovering!

Not only that, but you could count the number of demons you'd killed on one hand, being only a Mizunoe.

Despite these facts, he seemed to be more afraid of you than you had been of him, and you were never that good at hating demons, so you just meekly pointed to the pail.

"I'm going to fetch some water, but I'll be back soon."

Closing the door behind you, your hand met with the cloth over your heart, gripping it as if your life depended on it, trying to slow your heart rate and push forwards.

'What the fuck, what the hell do I even do?' With every heavy step, a lighter one followed as you tried not to put too much pressure on it, approaching the water pump and putting your bucket under it.

Sucking in a breath, you grabbed onto the lever and pushed down, letting it slowly inch up before repeating the process, letting the sputtering first gushes of muddy water spray out until a steady stream formed, which you kicked the bucket under to collect.

Your crow wouldn't be back for a week since it was retrieving medicine, if you could stall and keep him trapped here then maybe your crow could eventually get help! But you'd have to make it for, at the very least, a week.

Removing your calloused hands from the pump handle, you picked up the bucket with far more care than before, assuring yourself you wouldn't spill.

You'd just have to do it, because there was no fighting in your condition, and if he was that much of a threat he surely would have lunged at you while you slept, right?

"So, what's your name?" Your hearth had a burning fire below it, water boiling away as you added sugar and rice, covering it entirely and setting the pot aside so it could cook. The entire time, his eyes had been trained on you, flinching at every loud sound such as a ladle hitting the cast iron of your pot.

"M...me?" His voice broke as he spoke, though when you nodded he cleared it, "Hantengu."

"Han-teng-ou...!" You played the syllables out, as if testing how the name would taste, before pointing to yourself.

"Well, I'm y/n, but you can call me anything you want really. I have a feeling you won't be leaving anytime soon, so try to keep it non demeaning." You joked, though he seemed to take it seriously, nodding vigorously.

When your rice pudding was complete, you scooped a ball of it into a separate spoon, offering it to the demon. You knew they didn't eat human food often, but you figured you should act as clueless as you could.

Much to your surprise, Hantengu ate it, though you could tell he didn't like it by how harshly he swallowed. You giggled, taking the kindness of the demon into consideration, he must have done it not to hurt your feelings, which was relatively cute!

Even as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hantengu never left, instead enjoying your company, and as nights came and went, you found that every morning he'd be there, already preparing the hearth or with water ready for you. You'd become so used to the schedule, you never noticed that your crow hadn't returned, only interested in getting along with the demon.

On one summer evening, as the leaves had fully grown on the trees and the summer heat began to settle in, you'd been cleaning up the home while Hantengu came back in with firewood, stretching his legs now that the sun had gone down.

All the windows were wide, allowing any breeze in to help with the head, and you fanned yourself off with your hand.

"I'm really glad I picked you up, I never realised how lonely it was out here." You spoke up the moment he entered as if it had been on your mind for some time.

Hantengu always listened closely, having long forgotten his plan of ever so much as laying a scratch on you. You'd been nothing but kind to him, and had always treated him better than anyone he had met in his life. It would suffice to say the demon adored you, but he would never say it.

Your words stunned him entirely, which made him gaze down at the floor, hiding the expression of endearment on his face.

"I built this place far from any villages with the help of a few other corps members, but after that I never saw them again. I just didn't want to be anywhere demons would be, because if I was home I wanted to feel safe. But it's pure solitude. You've made it so much better."

Your head had begun to droop, moments from leaning on his shoulder, before the demon squealed and tumbled to the other side of the room, panting. You had become fully alert now, holding your hands out in a panic.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you--!"

Despite your apologies, the being shook, seemingly muttering to himself with both hands clawing at his heads, before in one swift motion he tore his head from his body, blood splashing along the walls and quickly disintegrating.

Mouth agape, you stared in horror as a transformation began, carefully inching towards the blade on your wall. The head rolled on the floor, before regenerating a new body that resembled a much younger demon, entirely shirtless. He caught himself easily, and sprung up on his feet in mere seconds.

The body, on the other hand, changed heavily in appearance until a head popped from the torso, similar red eyes glowing, though they were a more saturated cherry red compared to the Hantengu you knew.

"Ahah! Finally~ A vessel of my own..." Snapping your head back to the other, he was now crouched down, green eyes staring at you with a shimmer of interest.

Despite this, the other one walked behind his duplicate, barely giving you enough time to react to the fact that your companion was entirely renewed, and tore his head off once more, much to the dissatisfaction of the green eyed being, which the green eyed one reacted by ripping the others arm off.

They replenished themselves in seconds, though the two loose limbs quickly multiplied once more, introducing a sulking blue eyed demon, and what looked like a man-bird-thing.

"It never gets any easier..." A soft voice came from the blue eyed individual, of which you caught a kanji on his tongue which read 'sorrow'.

Shivering in the corner, the four seemed to bicker with each other for what you wished was much longer, before their full attention was on your cowering form in the corner.

Oh, how ironic it was, you and Hantengu had entirely switched places, if you could call these beings such a title.

You just hoped they liked you as much as he had.

"Don't you have better things to do than stare?" The red-eyed one hissed, though with malice or anticipation you couldn't entirely pick out. Despite his near-hostility, the showy one crawled forwards, reaching out a clawed hand to hold your chin, pushing it up to meet his eyes.

'Uppermoon Four' It was the same as Hantengu, but they acted so differently, or perhaps to his extremes?

While you were lost in your thoughts, the demon hissed a laugh, enjoying the empty look beyond your curious eyes that scanned him over.

"Before you call me anything I'm not, how about we start with Karaku, unless you prefer 'man of your dreams' better?" The tips of his nails pushed into your skin, but not nearly close enough to damage you. Oh no, he wouldn't dare do such a thing to his doll.

Karaku was promptly pulled back by the claws of a bird foot, which led to the tumbling forward of a very, very strange being, whose wings quickly blocked your view of all others and forced your eyes to gaze into his yellow ones, though he only grinned.

"Look what you've done, making big bad demons go falling for your stupidity, you're lucky you're so damned pretty!" Once he got his word in, he backed off as the other called him by his name strictly, allowing the two remainders to stand before you, gazing down.

You caught the name Urogi, and hoped you caught right, being hoisted to your feet by the hands of a very rough being, the one most similar to Hantengu, though the blue-eyed one placed his hand on your back, keeping you from moving back and providing little comfort.

"You poor thing, you must have no idea what’s going on..." Pity seeped from the sorrow demon, though he muttered his name to you shortly after.

'Aizetsu.' You repeat to yourself mentally, almost leaning into his hand, which moved slowly up and down as if he was giving a futile attempt at comforting you. The one holding your wrist in a vice-like grip only grumbled, seemingly irritated at nothing.

"Sekido."

"S...sekido...?" He only huffed in annoyance at your confirmation, as if it was stupid that you'd even thought of his name in the first place. You hadn't noticed how badly you were shaking until the tremors of the table met your ears, and your heart was skipping beats left and right.

"I- I don't," your voice paused, daring to reach forward, cupping Sekido's cheek, "aren't you?"

The loss of words seemed to amuse Karaku and Urogi, who erupted in giggles and grinned respectively. You were adorable, all your confidence sapped as if anything had changed.

"Yes, and no~" Urogi piped up, tilting his head to get a better look at you from where he was sitting, since Sekido's arm was in the way.

As Sekido dragged you back to your room, you watched Aizetsu carefully close your front door and lock it, each pair of eyes staring at you from the darkness of your living room, shining with light.

Looks like you'd have to make room for four more.

Author Note -  Okay this is the longest oneshot I have every written on here, and I couldn't even fully finish it!! So kind of a cliff hanger but I got to every point so win! I hope you enjoy, and thank you so much for requesting! This req inspired me sm <3

Shoutout to @mister-gooday1 who actually beta reads all of my oneshots I post because I would die if I had to do it myself xoxo

Word Count - 2,669

Art Credit - Hira_Daphne (twitter)

[sehtoast]

Hii! Id like a request!

Could you perhaps do a scenario where the reader gets stranded at an airport (Perhaps with panic attack)?

I'm experiencing this currently and thinking about Homelander is helping, Somehow

i'm so sorry you had to go through that anon ❤️ homie has an odd way of making life's woes suck a little less. apologies that this took as long as it did (and also i've never been in an airport before so idk if this is even the right vibe adfkljdfk), but i hope it's still enjoyable and i hope your airport adventure ended happily.

Oh, if you thought it couldn’t get worse, you were so wrong. 

Cancellations across the board, a raging snow storm outside, disgruntled people everywhere, and far too much noise for your overloaded senses.  This is what you get for flying out to go see a friend in the dead of winter.

It wasn’t like you could call an uber to the nearest hotel, either.  Pretty much nobody was going anywhere in this storm, and you’ve been here for hours now. God, you should’ve picked a morning flight, but you just haaaad to sleep in.

Eventually it started getting to you.

You’re alone, surrounded by angry people, in the middle of fuck knows where, with no guarantee of getting home or if your ticket is still going to be honored and–

You don’t even notice your breathing growing frantic until it’s overpowering and all you can do is hug your knees and try to stay calm–

You reach for your phone and send off a text to the one person who would maybe be awake at this hour.

God I’m fucking stuck here and I miss you and I don’t know what to do.

Your chest feels tight and your mouth is dry.  You hold your phone tight, cringing at the battery level.

7%.

You’d love to charge it, but the iPad parents are currently occupying every outlet in the area and if you hear one more child scream because they couldn’t watch their damn skibidi toilet videos–

It buzzes and you unlock it like a madman.

Told ya you should’ve flown air-Homelander.

You smile, warmth trickling in to fill your otherwise endless pit of anxiety.

It would’ve been too cold on my face :(  and you’d be carrying all my luggage.  Besides, I couldn't ask you to fly all this way.

The next response comes almost instantly.  Well, as instantly as it can with how slow he types.

Picky picky.  Where are you?

In the lounge-ish area.  On the floor, because I guess I picked the busiest airport in the world…

2%.  You’re almost ready to snag one of those outlets and suffer the blubbering.

Shucks, that’s a bummer.  

It’s not so–

You wince as your screen flickers, waves of sadness overtaking you in conjunction with that dreaded anxiety.  Gone is your only lifeline, and it hits you that you’ll have technically left him on read too.  You should’ve told him about your battery– fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hug your knees again and shove your useless earbuds in, hoping to dampen some of the noise.  It doesn’t work, and you can distinctly make out the sound of a man loudly demanding a full refund.

You try to imagine Homelander.  What tales would he have for you once you returned home?  How much trouble did he stir up while you were away?  Probably the usual, but… you were supposed to see him tomorrow morning when you got home.

God, that thought makes you ache for home even more.

You shut your eyes and attempt a nap.

You try and try to sleep to no avail.  Just when you think you might get a wink of rest, you hear audible gasps and shouting.  Your eyes shoot open, expecting the absolute worst, but all you see are two imposing sets of red boots.

“You forgot to text me back,” he says nonchalantly.  

Tears of joy bite at your eyes as you look up, and you all but launch yourself off the ground and into his arms.

“M’sorry,” you mumble against him.  “Battery died.”

“Mm, if you say so. I feel like this was all part of your elaborate plan to get me here.”  Homelander pulls away just slightly to look down at you, a twinkle of sympathy in his eyes- a very rare sight.  “Well, I know I can’t fly you home, because you’ll turn into a big popsicle, but… there is a hotel nearby and you do deserve a nice place to lay your head.”

Your heart feels so warm it could melt the blizzard outside.

“You just gotta tolerate a little cold.” He grins, winking at you.  “And air-Homelander doesn’t have delays.  No luggage fees either.”

You throw yourself back into the hug, squeezing him with all you’ve got.  

“You’re the best,” you whisper in his ear.

“Yeah, I know.”  He replies, uncaring of the spectacle you two must be.  “Now let’s get you cozy.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

For clarity, do you mean AFTER the events of part 2? And that Rindou couldn’t prevent Mikey from having his wife, which is what happened in part 2?? Just want to make sure I’m getting that right ❤️❤️

YES, YOU'RE RIGHT :)

And about Rindou - let's say Mikey found a way to sleep with his wife (blackmailing or something like this

I gotchu I gotchu I got this (I am very proud of what I wrote tonight)

Hand Her Over (Part 3): Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani/ Kakucho Hitto/ Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

Hand Her Over Megapost

wc: 2k

tw: lots of angst, non-con, betrayal?

masterlist

Ran Haitani

The bath is warm. Ran takes a hand and helps you out of your chair, guiding you easily into the shell-shaped tub. In silence, you sink into the water and let out a soft sigh before leaning back and closing your eyes.

Ran picks up the jar full of a rose face mask, and he opens it to smear the "mud" on his fingers. You close your eyes obediently, knowing what comes next. As your husband bends over the edge of the tub, you're absolutely still, not daring to move an inch. Ran carefully daubs the mask on your face, taking care to avoid your eyelids and lips.

"Is that good?" You nod, then open your eyes slowly. "Is the water okay?" You nod again.

Ran sits by the tub after cleansing his hands, and he watches you watch him. "I was thinking about getting away for a little while," he begins, smiling. "Perhaps to Ondres or Saint Thomas... Would you like to go?" You blink, still silent. Ran tries not to show his disappointment.

You hadn't spoken in almost two weeks since the incident.

Killing Mikey hadn't done a thing but shut you up, and you only nod or shake your head when asked questions. If you can't decide... then there was nothing. Ran tries to avoid cursing Mikey's ghost for your reaction to the traumatic events, but he fails every single day.

"I'll let you decide," Ran finally replies, giving you a taut smile before standing. "Maybe we can even go see your family for a little while." Ran catches yous shaking your head in the mirror, and his shoulders sag.

"We don't have to tell them anything," he murmurs, loosening his tie. "I just need you to know you're loved. You know I love you, right?" You nod, looking down at the water somberly. Ran looks at you momentarily before retreating into the walk-in closet. Inside, he scrubs at his face, trying to avoid the tears rolling down his cheeks and making his face puffy. He can't be seen crying. Not when he'd been hiding it for weeks and weeks. It wasn't a good look, and he had to be strong for you. All of this is for you.

He rubs and rubs and rubs at his eyes, trying not to be obvious about his crying. You couldn't see him - not when you're in the tub - but you might walk in on him trying to keep it together if you chose to get out.

When he emerges, he's satisfied that he's kept the tears at bay for another day. You're still in the tub, rubbing the mask off your face with slow, wet fingers.

"Let me get that for you, baby," Ran offers, and he wipes your face gingerly with a towel. "There. All better." He kisses you on the lips, and you kiss him back lightly, holding him there for more than a fraction of a second. Ran's heart swells, and he takes in your appearance with a bit of pride. "That's my girl," he whispers, cupping your cheek lovingly. "I'm gonna get you out of here if it's the last thing I do."

Rindou Haitani

"One way or another, she'll be mine."

Rindou is gripping the steering wheel with all of his might, his knuckles turning sheet white as he hurries home. He has to beat the clock. There's only a few minutes left and--

"There's a collision ahead. Your arrival will be delayed by four minutes." Rindou curses profusely, slamming his hand against the dashboard wildly.

"I have somewhere to be!"

Rindou considers abandoning the dumb car and taking off on foot, but that would do him no good. He'd be out of a very expensive car and also--

His phone rings, and the car picks up on the signal, displaying the caller on his navigation screen. It's you.

"Baby," Rindou pants, trying to remain calm. "What's going--"

"Rin," you hiss, the fear in your voice evident. "Rin, someone's trying to break in!"

"Get to the bedroom and lock the door," he advises you quickly, adrenaline rushing through his veins. "My gun is behind the recliner. Get it."

"The gun?" You're already asking questions, which isn't the way. You need to just obey, just for now.

"Questions later," Rindou quips, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Are you in the bedroom?"

"Yes," you breathe, then he hears the fierce rattling. "I-I have the gun, but they're at the front door."

"Go into the closet," he replies. "Bolt it." The sounds on the other end seem to reflect that you're doing as you're told, and then you finally whisper,

"I'm in." Rindou exhales. Whoever is at the front door will be held off for at least ten minutes. That's enough time for him to get out of this traffic jam and back to the house. Not without him breaking a few laws, but he'd have to do something illegal to--

"They're in the house," you murmur, and Rindou tries to keep himself calm. But there's a loud bang and then voices rush through the other end.

"Y/n!" Rindou's shout is masked by the sound of another door bursting open and your frightened scream.

"Hold her; hold her down!"

Rindou's crying; the tears are rushing out of his eyes as he unbuckled his seat belt, intent on hurrying out of the car and running to the house even if his shoes fell off.

"Rindou," a voice purrs, and a chill works its way down his spine.

"Mikey, please don't do this."

"Thought you could evade me forever, hm?"

"Mikey, please; just let her go. I'll do whatever you want, I swear. Just let her--"

The phone is dropped to the floor and Rindou can hear you crying out for mercy in the background just as the road begins to clear up. But he can't move an inch.

"Mikey, Mikey, don't, do--" Your cries are cut short. Then there's grunting and groans and panting and--

A horn honks loudly, but even that doesn't stir Rindou from his moment of dissociation.

This isn't happening, he thinks to himself. It's all just a bad dream. It's all just a really bad dream.

Kakucho Hitto

Uphill. That's the only way Kakucho can describe how life has been since he escaped Tokyo. Life has been going uphill ever since.

He's sitting on his screened-in porch, and you're next to him, basking in the warmth of the southern sun.

"You ever think about what could have happened if we stayed?" you ask, and the thought shocks Kakucho into silence.

"No," he finally replies. "Why do you ask?"

You adjust your sunglasses and sigh. "I was just thinking... what if we had stayed?"

Kakucho shuts his book with an air of finality. "I would've killed my boss and probably been sent to prison."

But now he's happy. He's not in prison. He's still with you. And you have his child still in your belly, which is all he could ever ask for. The house, the car, the mediocre job, the average clothing? All of that was just extra. All he needed was you and the baby.

"But I didn't do that," he adds, with a smile. He places a hand on your stomach and kisses your forehead. "And our little boy is on the way in a month or so." You pat the hand on your stomach, and Kakucho opens his book again. There are only a few minutes between that and the phone ringing, and Kakucho - albeit begrudgingly - gets up to answer it.

The yellow corded phone is a relic from years and years ago, but you'd insisted on a landline in a house that screamed "old world charm," and who was Kakucho to deny you such a trivial pleasure?

"Hello," Kakucho begins.

"Hello." The voice on the other end sends Kakucho into a spiral. He drops his book and almost drops the phone, but the voice speaks again. "A shame you had to go all the way over there."

"What do you want?" Kakucho hisses, turning away from the direction of the porch.

"Your wife." Kakucho nearly snaps the phone in half with his grip. "She looks so beautiful in that little polka dot number." Kakucho glances towards the porch and sees you in a black and white polka dot dress. Fear races down his spine.

"You step one foot on my property, and I'll shoot your head off," Kakucho sneers. "You think I moved here on a whim?" His hand goes for the sawed-off shotgun by the door, but Mikey tsks.

"Do we have to resort to violence, again?"

"I'll do what I have to so I can protect my family." Mikey hesitates.

"That pesky f-word." He sighs. "This is your warning, Kakucho. There's nowhere you can run where I can't find you."

"Says you."

"Yes, says me. I'll let her have the kid," Mikey adds, and Kakucho can hear the smirk over the phone. "But after, you'll bring her back to me yourself. Or I'll deliver her to you in a body bag."

Kakucho finally finds his spine and sneers, "You'll probably have to keep that bag." Mikey chuckles.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Kakucho grunts. "You're gonna need one for yourself." And he slams the phone down on the receiver.

"You okay?" Your voice carries from the porch, and Kakucho shifts the shotgun to his other hand, carrying it up the stairs.

"Call an ambulance," he calls out to you, standing flat-footed as he looks through the spy hole of the house. He spots the informant across the way, and his finger finds the trigger. "But not for me."

Sanzu Haruchiyo

Some nights are easier than others. When Sanzu plies you with drinks and good food, you're more willing. But when he comes home, tired from working with the top boss in all of Japan, you're not ever wanting to be intimate with him.

You're more willing to allow him into your personal space, more willing to let him touch you, more willing to let him caress your body lovingly like he used to when you're not stone-cold sober.

Sanzu tries to avoid taking rejection personally. But when you turn a cold shoulder to him, his mind begins to wander. And the only way you can seem to open up at all is to be absolutely out of it. Do you hate him now?

"Is your wife still available to see me tonight?" Mikey's request doesn't come out of nowhere. He'd been hinting at a round two for a few weeks, but Sanzu hadn't been brave enough to say anything to you about the whole thing.

"I'll have to ask," Sanzu murmurs absentmindedly, shifting through some irrelevant papers on his desk. "She's been really distant lately."

"Oh," Mikey replies, leaning back in his chair and picking at his nails. "Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah." There's a long silence before Mikey whispers,

"Could it have anything to do with me?" The thought clicks almost as soon as Mikey says it. Sanzu's hands still on a blank manilla folder, and for a brief second, he wants to vomit. How had he not put the pieces together? Maybe you'd found Mikey more alluring than him, and you'd only thought of him to satisfy your needs now.

When Sanzu's eyes meet Mikey's, the answer in them is written plainly. And Sanzu grits his teeth to avoid losing his cool. A smirk crosses Mikey's face at the sight of the conflicted Haruchiyo.

All his life had been in service to this one man, this one genius, and now...

"Mikey," Sanzu breathes, feeling the betrayal stinging in his chest. "Please, don't."

"Sorry," Mikey replies, not at all sorry in tone. "Seems she really enjoyed having me as a lover. I'm guessing she never told you."

Sanzu is full of emotions, none of which he can place except for one distinct one: jealousy. It rips through him like a guillotine. "I'll be over tonight if you'd like to watch how your wife wants to be pleasured." The sad smile Mikey gives him is not at all piteous. "I'll bet I can teach you a thing or two, Haruchiyo."

[last-herondale]

Almost Part 8

Bucky Barnes x Femreader!

Warnings: none

Angst, heartbreak, healing

AN: this story is close to my heart. This whole series. I’ll go into more detail perhaps once it’s done.

Enjoy ❤️

Months had passed. The weather here in the islands was warm and tropical. You had always loved the beach. Watching the waves crash against the sand, feeling the warm beams of sun hit your face as you relaxed in a beach chair. Tony had several island houses, some remote, some really, really remote, and then there was the one you had chosen, which was completely isolated away from the rest of the world.

Tony didn’t ask questions when you came to him that early morning. You only told him that you needed to get away. Somewhere no one could find you. Somewhere you could be alone. He gave you an access card, an address, and sent you on your way in one of his private jets. The vacation house was huge, way too big for one single person, but you were not going to complain.

You spent the first few weeks in bed. Your body and soul felt absolutely exhausted. Guilt riddled your chest. You hated leaving your team like that. No explanation, no word at all. It wasn’t fair to the people who you saw as your family. But there wasn’t time to write every single one of them a note. You just left one for Steve and Nat. You left the note with Tony to give to Nat, but you left the note for Steve on your dresser.

It was short, but it was all you could muster before you chickened out. It hurt too much. Feeling like you used Steve, fighting with Bucky, and lying to yourself and everyone else that you are okay. There seemed to be very limited options as to what you could do about it without messing everything you built up. Without destroying the whole team itself, over something as trivial as your heart.

It felt like you were dying. Physically and spiritually. You took sleeping pills just to shut out everything racking in your brain. You hardly ate, even though Tony made sure to send groceries every week. No one had come to check up on you, so you assumed that Tony had made good on his promise to keep your whereabouts secret. It was strange to feel so conflicted. To want nothing more than to be alone, but also want someone to talk to.

So you opted for writing. Tony had plenty of empty journals in the house, some filled with new suit ideas or other inventions, but you found one that looked like it wouldn’t be missed and began writing. It helped. Writing down anything and everything you had been feeling when you felt it. It took a few weeks, but you finally decided to leave the house. You began taking walks, writing on the beach, reading the various books that Tony had. It was nice. It was starting to feel like a vacation.

You created a routine. You woke up early in the mornings on the weekdays, making sure to go on a long walk around the island before the sun rose. Then whenever you were ready, you went back to the house and made yourself something to eat. Sometimes it was breakfast, most times it was lunch by the time you returned. You spent your afternoons either reading or writing or sleeping. It was a bit boring and mundane, but it felt like it was exactly what you needed.

The only thing that bothered you was the zero contact. You did miss your friends. At the mark of one month of your isolation, you decided to write to Nat. You left a note for Tony, asking that he still not give out your whereabouts, but you trusted him enough to write a few letters with Nat. Nat seemed understanding, if not a bit disappointed you hadn’t gone to her first before leaving. She didn’t say anything about Steve or Bucky, although you were very careful not to ask or even hint that you wanted to know. Even though you did. Desperately.

You started writing to her every week. You thought maybe one day she would get fed up with you avoiding everything, but all Nat ever said at the end of her letters were:

“I love you. Just be careful, okay? I’ll always be here for you if you need me.”

It was everything to have her support, and Tonys. You felt as if you were finally getting better. You were finally taking care of your mental health and your feelings, rather than worry about everyone else. It was strange. It felt selfish. But you realized it was needed.

After two months, you decided you needed somewhere a bit more social to be. Tony was happy to oblige, and he and Pepper came to help you get settled into your new living space in Maui. It was smaller than the first house, much to your appreciation. Pepper and you talked for a bit, and it was nice to open up to her. She often seemed so set apart from the chaos of the tower life, so she offered her unbiased opinion.

Tony’s aim was to help you have fun again. Before he and Pepper left, he showed you his favorite spots, and ensured that the owners would take care of you, if you ever decided to enter their establishment. It was nice to be out and social again. Even just being out to dinner with the two of them livened your spirits up more than you thought it would.

That’s when you decided that it was time. You told Tony before he left, that he could share your whereabouts with the team. He had just given you a look of uncertainty, but then shrugged. You weren’t sure if he would follow through, but then Pepper put her hand on your shoulder and you knew she would take care of it.

The local city in Maui was wonderful. It wasn’t full of tourists, but it was bustling full of the locals. They were kind, and very pleasant to be around. Even if you didn’t talk to them much, it was nice to be back around people. You took up a small job, delivering merchandise for one of Tony’s recommended shops. You knew it was a small task, certainly not up to what you were capable of doing, but it kept you busy.

You still wrote daily, keeping up with your journal that was now full. Tony had gifted you a whole set, for however long you wanted to stay. You considered going home. Several times during your trip. The memories of what you left behind… who you left behind. It caused you too much pain.

The pain was ebbing, ever so slowly. The realignment, the refocusing your attention back to yourself made it easier. You realized that you deserved to put yourself first. That you needed to love yourself before you could love anyone. And so these long months have been your love letter to yourself. You followed your heart. Did what you wanted. You were honest with yourself and your needs. Things were finally becoming okay.

You felt like it was finally okay… it was finally acceptable to just be you.

A few people sent their regards. A few letters came in for you, one from Sam, Wanda, and even Scott. Nat visited you the next week Tony left. It was nice to be with her again and be able to cry and hug her. It was nice to converse and be around the people you loved. People that you had neglected in your mess. It made you feel whole again… well almost.

You missed them. Although it was hard to say their names still, you missed them both. You missed them terribly.

And like always, it seemed that the universe had a great sense of humor when it came to you. You were sorting through the mail, a normal routine you did once a week. The letters were from the usual suspects, but one name made your heart stop.

You knew it would happen. Maybe even hoped it would happen. And now it seemed that the time had finally come.

[eowynstwin]

Hey!! You're now one of my favorite people who write about johnny ❤️ just here to ask if you have any theory how he got his chin scar? Was that in military or maybe some childhood accident?

Warnings: childhood trauma. Smutty talk. A n g s t.

-

Soap asks you at a pub one rainy evening, three shots in and showing no signs of slowing down—“Ever wanna know how I got m’scar, hen?”

You trace your finger around the rim of your glass, bourbon on the rocks, and half-smile at him. He’s been off, just a little, ever since he got home from his last deployment.

“I think you’re going to tell me even if I don’t,” you say.

He leans his elbows on the sticky bar, cranes his head in toward you. “Was me on my own ‘gainst three other men,” he stage-whispers. “All I had was my knife.”

You snort. “Sure, Johnny.”

His grin is sideways, and he medicates with a fourth shot of whiskey. “Might’ve been four men, now I think of it.”

“And were you in your knickers and none else, too?” you poke.

He leans in further. You’ve learned, as you’ve gotten to know him, that teasing him like this is practically an aphrodisiac, a siren call.

But when his fifth shot arrives, you recognize that perhaps he’s looking to your goading as another escape from whatever is eating at him. He doesn’t drink like this when he’s with you—not usually. For a man so open with his affection, so generous with his precious free time, Johnny is rather jealous to admit the things that bother him.

So you don’t press. You let him drink, and let him drape himself over you as you hobble him home, struggling to keep the umbrella over you both as he tongues your neck and groans about what he wants—and definitely cannot, in his state—to do to you.

“Wannae drown in that pussy, bonnie,” he mumbles. “Thought about it the whole time I was over there. Wake up, pussy. Go to sleep, pussy.”

You get him into your flat, and at last you’re able to push him onto your couch, which he flops across like a soaked rag. Well, you had barely controlled the umbrella.

“C’mere,” he says, hands on his thighs, palms up, fingers curling to beckon you.

You sit beside him instead, tucking your knees under you. His head lolls over to face you—a pretty red blush colors his face, sets the blue of his eyes alight.

“Johnny,” you say, quietly, gently.

He blinks a few times at you. Presses his pretty lips together.

“Was a dog,” he finally says. “When I was a kid. Got spittin’ mad at somethin’, and I was in the way of it.”

You reach up to touch his chin. Run the tip of your thumb along the scar, feel the divot it makes in his skin. Johnny wraps his big hand around your wrist, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses the center of it.

“Was a couple dogs over there this time,” he confesses into your hand. “Got loose, ran at me. Froze in my fuckin’ boots.”

You lay your hand along his jaw, still cuffed in his fingers, and trace the delicate corner of his eye with a feather-light touch. He heaves a sigh, and the shake at the tail end of it quakes him. Johnny squeezes his eyes shut, twists his mouth into a grimace.

You cup the back of his head and bring his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder. Both of his arms come around you then, dragging you to him, binding you by the waist to his body. He shakes with an enormous sob.

“Like a fuckin’ child,” he snarls at himself. “Ghost had to shoot ‘em both. I just stood there like the stupidest cunt in the world.”

You don’t say anything—there’s nothing, you know, that will comfort this. Johnny will cry, and you’ll coax him to bed for the sleep he desperately needs. And you’ll wake up to find him wrapped around you like a second skin, hands wandering, needy to reclaim the dregs of his worth that he thinks have escaped with his tears.

You’ll let him. For a man so eager to share his joy, Johnny is too reticent to show his pain. It won’t be the escape he wants; he knows you too well now, to think you’ll let him act like this never happened. So you’ll hold him now, and you’ll love him later, and he’ll find his way back to himself in the meanwhile.

[caaaatoad]

Hi!! 💞💞 I do have a request if its not too much! Id really appreciate it.

Could I perhaps request a Kaeya/Thoma/Kazuha cuddling hc’s?

i love these boys with all my heart <3

A/N: OFC THANK you for your request!!!❤️❤️❤️

Cuddling Headcannons (Kaeya, Thoma, Kazuha)

fluff/ hurt/comfort

Kaeya

Loves, LOVES to cuddle with you

His love language is physical touch, so he actually needs cuddles from you his lovely s/o

Initially, he is a bit shy to cuddle with you. You would have to suggest it and be the one to initiate it at first. Even then he’ll be a bit awkward, laughing a bit too often to brush off his nervousness. He wouldn’t be totally obvious, but the moment you lay on his chest - his arms finally secured around your waist instead of hanging in the air, wondering where to go - his heart is hammering.

If you comment on it, or tease him, he’ll be a flustered mess. His facade would finally drop and he’d bury his head into your shoulder, or hug you tightly so your face is buried in his chest to obscure your view of his face.

However, if you show him mercy, even though he never returns this favour with his flustering antics - gently rubbing his back, or playing with his hair will calm him down. He would sigh softly, shutting his eyes and basking in your scent.

The affection and closeness is surreal to him.

If you’re really gentle with this man, he’ll break slightly. He might tear up a little, but he would never let you see. It would take months, maybe even a year of being together, or establishing cuddling and affection a routine for him to really let you see him vulnerable.

Eventually, he is completely relaxed with the idea. He would initiate it far more often. Even as far as sneaking you into his office, and seating you on his lap and hugging you while he finishes up some dull paperwork. More often that not you both fell asleep in his office’s coach, legs and arms entangled with each other.

Only in his office though. Kaeya is fine with PDA, to a certain extent. He wouldn’t try to keep your relationship a secret, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to try to hide it either. Very neutral. He would hold your hand in public, and plant a quick kiss in town square if he won’t see you until dinner, but nothing more. Such intimacy like cuddling is reserved behind his closed doors: his office, or your shared home.

He usually asks for cuddles often. Without words whenever he’s not feeling well. Kaeya gets headaches, and being in your arms is the best pain reliever. Especially when you massage his scalp - the man turns into pudgy in your hands.

But mostly HES A TEASE… he flusters you so much. He’s usually a big spoon, and he tries to keep you on your toes out of fear you’ll get bored of him. With time he’ll become more comfortable, and he’ll be big spoon / little spoon interchangeably. He likes them both, it depends on his mood.

Teasing little snark = big spoon and grumpy, sad baby = little spoon

All in all, this man feels the most love when you both cuddle and he is EXTREMELY touch-starved for obvious reasons. Please just hold him😭😭

Thoma

SUCH A CUDDLE BUG

Golden retriever personality - he’s literally so happy to be by your side

Will get a bit shy at first, but he’s more excited than nervous

Face will get very flustered and the man is super blushy - loves to hold you or be held

Sometimes when he’s tired, he will just plop his head into your lap and ask you to play with his hair

Will give puppy dog eyes if you are too busy to cuddle him <3333

He will gently run his fingers through your hair, gently rubbing your back as you both fall to sleep together. His hands are warm because of his vision, but not too warm. On cold nights you will seek him out in your sleep, and by instinct, he’ll lazily wrap his arm around your waist and let you nuzzle into his side without even opening his eyes.

Has (more than once) lifted you up off your feet and fell back onto the coach with you on his chest. He’ll loosely wrap his arms around you and laugh at your cute squeak.

If you both cuddle a while, he’ll ask if you get hungry and you will have to physically prevent him from cooking up a storm for you for no reason🥺🥺

Super cuddly. Physical touch is his love language after acts of service so expect a lot of it<33

Kazuha

Not much of a cuddlier ACTUALLY

The man likes them, and will always say yes if you ask, but it’s not something’s he’d seek out on his own

Usually

Somedays when he’s tired.. he may lean his head on your shoulder, which usually ends up with you both laying down underneath a blanket a starts

Cuddles on the beach. Kazuha will let you snuggle up to him even if it means getting sand in his hair and scolds from the screw of lugging sand on the deck. He usually rests a hand on the small of your back, nothing more

Super content and calm with you, he loves you so much <333

He will recite poems to you, 99% of them are about you.

Kazuha talks to you. In these quiet moments, he’ll recite all his poems to you - SPOILER : they’re 99% about you

However, sometimes they aren’t, and you can tell. The words sound as they were stuck undersea, pulled from its depth and left to rot on the shore.

You hold him in these moments. His feelings are always fleeting, and not even the wind knows how you’re able to make them stay, long enough for the warmth of your embrace to soothe his heartaches.