#feline babbles

[anghraine]

Hi! Can you explain what really the power of foresight was with Faramir? I read the books earlier this year and I don't really quite understand it. He could predict the future? Like he would see it in his dreams? But how did he found out from Gollum that he was taking frodo and sam to cirith ungol and that he had committed murder before?

No problem, it's one of my favorite topics!

The concise explanation: I think Faramir's foresight/aftersight in terms of visions is a largely separate "power" from his ability to bring his strength of mind and will to bear on other people and animals, and to resist outside influence. The visions seem more a matter of broad sensitivity, something Faramir doesn't appear to have much if any control over. The second power is (in our terms) essentially a form of direct telepathy, limited in some ways but still very powerful, and I think this second ability is what Faramir is using with Gollum.

The really long version:

In my opinion, Faramir (or Denethor, Aragorn, etc) doesn't necessarily read thoughts like a book, particularly not with a mind as resistant as Gollum's. Faramir describes Gollum's mind in particular as dark and closed, it seems unusually so—

"There are locked doors and closed windows in your mind, and dark rooms behind them," said Faramir.

Still, Gollum is unable to entirely block Faramir's abilities. In LOTR, it does not seem that Gollum can fully block powerful mental abilities such as Faramir's, though his toughness and hostility does limit what Faramir can see. (Unfinished Tales, incidentally, suggests iirc that Denethor's combination of "great mental powers" and his right to use the Anor-stone allowed him to telepathically get the better of Saruman through their palantíri, a similar but greater feat.) I imagine that this is roughly similar to, but scaled down from, Galadriel's telepathic inquiries of even someone as reluctant to have her in his mind as Boromir, given that Faramir is able to still see some things in Gollum's mind, if with more difficulty than usual.

(WRT Boromir ... ngl, if I was the human buffer between Denethor and Faramir, I would also not be thrilled about sudden telepathic intrusions from basically anyone, much less someone I had little reason to trust.)

Disclaimer: a few years after LOTR's publication, Tolkien tried to systematize how this vague mystical telepathy stuff really works. One idea he had among many, iirc, was that no unwilling person's mind could be "read" the ways that Gollum's is throughout LOTR. IMO that can't really be reconciled w/ numerous significant interactions in LOTR where resistance to mental intrusion or domination is clearly variable between individuals and affected by personal qualities like strength of will, basic resilience, the effort put into opposition, supernatural powers, etc. And these attempts at resistance are unsuccessful or only partially successful on many occasions in LOTR (the Mouth of Sauron, for one example, is a Númenórean sorcerer in the book who can't really contend with Aragorn on a telepathic level). So I, personally, tend to avoid using the terminology and rationales from that later systematized explanation when discussing LOTR. And in general, I think Tolkien's later attempts to convert the mystical, mysterious wonder of Middle-earth into something more "hard magic" or even scientific was a failed idea on a par with Teleporno. Others differ!

In any case, when Gollum "unwillingly" looks at Faramir while being questioned, the creepy light drains from his eyes and he shrinks back while Faramir concludes he's being honest on that specific occasion. Gollum experiences physical pain when he does try to lie to Faramir—

"It is called Cirith Ungol." Gollum hissed sharply and began muttering to himself. "Is not that its name?" said Faramir turning to him. "No!" said Gollum, and then he squealed, as if something had stabbed him.

I don't think this is a deliberate punishment from Faramir—that wouldn't be like him at all—and I don't think it's the Ring, but simply a natural consequence of what Faramir is. Later, Gandalf says of Faramir's father:

"He can perceive, if he bends his will thither, much of what is passing in the minds of men ... It is difficult to deceive him, and dangerous to try."

So, IMO, Faramir's quick realization that Gollum is a murderer doesn't come from any vision of the future or past involving Gollum—that is, it's not a deduction from some event he's seen. Faramir does not literally foresee Gollum's trick at Cirith Ungol. His warning would be more specific in that case, I think. What he sees seems to be less detailed but more direct and, well, mystical. Faramir likely doesn't know who exactly Gollum murdered or why or what any of the circumstances were. Rather, Gollum's murderousness and malice are visible conditions of his soul to Faramir's sight. Faramir doesn't foresee the particulars of Gollum's betrayal—but he can see in Gollum's mind that he is keeping something back. Faramir says of Gollum:

"I do not think you are holden to go to Cirith Ungol, of which he has told you less than he knows. That much I perceived clearly in his mind."

Meanwhile, in a letter written shortly before the publication of LOTR, Tolkien said of Faramir's ancestors:

They became thus in appearance, and even in powers of mind, hardly distinguishable from the Elves

So these abilities aren't that strange in that context. Faramir by chance (or "chance") is, like his father, almost purely an ancient Númenórean type despite living millennia after the destruction of Númenor (that destruction is the main reason "Númenóreanness" is fading throughout the age Faramir lives in). Even less ultra-Númenórean members of Denethor's family are still consistently inheriting characteristics from their distant ancestor Elros, Elrond's brother, while Faramir and Denethor independently strike Sam and Pippin as peculiarly akin to Gandalf, a literal Maia like their ancestress Melian:

“Ah well, sir,” said Sam, “you [Faramir] said my master had an elvish air; and that was good and true. But I can say this: you have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of—well, Gandalf, of wizards.”

He [Denethor] turned his dark eyes on Gandalf, and now Pippin saw a likeness between the two, and he felt the strain between them, almost as if he saw a line of smouldering fire drawn from eye to eye, that might suddenly burst into flame.

Meanwhile, Faramir's mother's family is believed to be part Elvish, a belief immediately confirmed when Legolas meets Faramir's maternal uncle:

At length they came to the Prince Imrahil, and Legolas looked at him and bowed low; for he saw that here indeed was one who had elven-blood in his veins. "Hail, lord!" he [Legolas] said. "It is long since the people of Nimrodel left the woodlands of Lórien, and yet still one may see that not all sailed from Amroth’s haven west over water."

In addition to that, Faramir's men believe he's under some specific personal blessing or charm as well as the Númenórean/Elvish/Maia throwback qualities. It's also mentioned by different groups of soldiers that Faramir can exercise some power of command over animals as well as people. Beregond describes Faramir getting his horse to run towards five Nazgûl in real time:

"They will make the Gate. No! the horses are running mad. Look! the men are thrown; they are running on foot. No, one is still up, but he rides back to the others. That will be the Captain [Faramir]: he can master both beasts and men."

Then, during the later retreat of Faramir's men across the Pelennor:

At last, less than a mile from the City, a more ordered mass of men came into view, marching not running, still holding together. The watchers held their breath. "Faramir must be there," they said. "He can govern man and beast."

Tolkien said of the ancient Númenóreans:

But nearly all women could ride horses, treating them honourably, and housing them more nobly than any other of their domestic animals. The stables of a great man were often as large and as fair to look upon as his own house. Both men and women rode horses for pleasure … and in ceremony of state both men and women of rank, even queens, would ride, on horseback amid their escorts or retinues … The Númenóreans trained their horses to hear and understand calls (by voice or whistling) from great distances; and also, where there was great love between men or women and their favorite steeds, they could (or so it is said in ancient tales) summon them at need by their thought alone. So it was also with their dogs.

Likely the same Númenórean abilities were used for evil by Queen Berúthiel against her cats. In an interview with Daphne Castell, Tolkien said:

She [Berúthiel] was one of these people who loathe cats, but cats will jump on them and follow them about—you know how sometimes they pursue people who hate them? I have a friend like that. I’m afraid she took to torturing them for amusement, but she kept some and used them—trained them to go on evil errands by night, to spy on her enemies or terrify them.

The more formal version of the Berúthiel lore recurs in Unfinished Tales:

She had nine black cats and one white, her slaves, with whom she conversed, or read their memories, setting them to discover all the dark secrets of Gondor, so that she knew those things "that men wish most to keep hidden," setting the white cat to spy upon the black, and tormenting them.

Faramir, by contrast, has a strong aversion to harming/killing animals for any reason other than genuine need, but apparently quite similar basic abilities. He typically uses these abilities to try to compassionately understand other people or gather necessary information, rather than for domination or provoking fear. Even so, Faramir does seem to use his mental powers pretty much all the time with no attempt to conceal what he's doing—he says some pretty outlandish things to Frodo and Sam as if they're very ordinary, but it doesn't seem that most people he knows can do all these things. This stuff is ordinary to him because it flows out of his fundamental being, not because it's common.

It's not clear how much fine control he has, interestingly. This is more headcanon perhaps, but I don't feel like it's completely under his control, even while it's much more controlled than things like Faramir's vision of Boromir's funeral boat, his frequent, repeated dreams of Númenor's destruction, the Ring riddle dream he received multiple times, or even his suspiciously specific "guess" of what passed between Galadriel and Boromir in Lothlórien. Yet his more everyday mental powers do seem to involve some measure of deliberate effort in a lot of the instances we see, given the differing degrees of difficulty and strain we see with the powers he and Denethor exhibit more frequently and consistently.

This is is also interesting wrt Éowyn, because Tolkien describes Faramir's perception of her as "clear sight" (which I suspect is just Tolkien's preferred parlance for "clairvoyance"). Faramir perceives a lot more of what's going on with Éowyn than I think he had materially observable evidence for—but does not see everything that's going on with her by any means. He seems to understand basically everything about her feelings for Aragorn, more than Éowyn herself does, but does not know if she loves him [Faramir].

I'm guessing that it's more difficult to "see" this way when it's directly personal (one of the tragedies of his and Denethor's relationship is that their shared mental powers do not enable either to realize how much they love each other). But it also doesn't seem like he's trying to overcome Éowyn's mental resistance the way he was with Gollum, and possibly Frodo and Sam—he does handle it a bit differently when it's not a matter of critical military urgency. With Éowyn, he sees what his abilities make clear to him, is interested enough to seek out Merry (and also perceive more than Merry says, because Faramir has never been a normal person one day in his life) but doesn't seem to really push either of them.

So I tend to imagine that with someone like Faramir, Denethor, Aragorn etc, we're usually seeing a relatively passive, natural form of low-grade telepathy that simply derives from their fundamental nature and personalities (as we see in Faramir with Éowyn, possibly Faramir with Aragorn). That can be kicked up to more powerful, forceful telepathy via active exertion of the will (as described by Gandalf wrt Denethor's ability to "bend[] his will thither" to see what passes in others' minds, and seen with Faramir vs Gollum, Aragorn vs the Mouth of Sauron, more subtly Faramir vs Denethor). At a high point of strain this can be done very aggressively or defensively (Denethor vs Gandalf, Denethor vs Saruman, Denethor vs Sauron seriously is there a Maia that man won't fight, Faramir vs the Black Breath given his completely unique symptoms that Aragorn attributes to his "staunch will", possibly Aragorn vs the Black Breath in a healing capacity...).

Anyway, I hope these massive walls of text are helpful or interesting! Thanks for the ask :)

[queerpyracy]

some very important crochet updates

[bonefall]

Cat Diabetes

So as you've probably seen, lately I've been considering what Diabetes will end up looking like, both for my rewrite and any herb guide I make. I had been trying to consider how to strike a balance between Human Diabetes and Feline Diabetes... but I'm not sure if it's possible to do that.

Cat Diabetes and Human Diabetes have significant differences.

Human Diabetes:

Type 1 is typically an autoimmune condition where the body destroys the cells responsible for insulin production, usually with a childhood onset. Type 2 diabetes is the body becoming insulin-resistant despite the pancreas still producing insulin, usually with an adulthood onset.

Type 1 is treated with insulin injections. Type 2 is treated with medication, usually metformin.

In human diabetes, Type 2 does not progress into Type 1.

Feline Diabetes:

Type 1 is the total failure of insulin production in the pancreas, it is very rare in cats. Type 2 is insulin resistance or reduced production in the pancreas, it is common in cats.

Both Type 1 and Type 2 is treated with insulin injections. Type 2 can be managed with medication, but this is becoming an outdated practice because...

In feline diabetes, Type 2 can progress into Type 1. This is a significant side effect of oral medication in cats.

So What?

It didn't come up before in any discussions of what to do, but I've been told that it could be offensive to diabetics to show a character progressing from Type 2 to Type 1, even if they are cats, because that is a misconception of human diabetes.

Ultimately my goal is representation. While I WANT my herb guides to be consistent for Warrior Cats and be adapted for feline biology, I will bend those secondary goals in the name of better reflecting the real human people with fake cat OCs these guides are made for.

I wanted to mix the two and strike a balance between Feline and Human diabetes, but the more I work on this and consider every angle, the more I'm feeling overwhelmed and the enjoyment is actively draining out of it.

I'm not having fun imagining disappointing everyone with a compromise that doesn't accurately portray Diabetes in either species.

So I'm going to commit to making a herb guide that reflects human diabetes, and in this case, ignore feline diabetes. It seems like the more requested option anyway.

[ghostsinthecellar]

also the full box at the bottom of the pile of box carcasses had all the stuffed animals I had in my room before the move so they're finally gonna get set free back into their natural habitat

[eraenaa]

Silent Passions

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence. 

Warnings: Unwanted sexual advances from Daemon Targaryen, ¿Softer Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 8,678 (bear with me pls)

A/N: Based on a request where they wanted "Aemond x Tyrell Reader (which has the personality of Francesca Bridgerton), and when they are about to get married, Daemon tries to seduce her, making Aemond distrust her."

A flower promised to a dragon. Long before you were born, you, a daughter of House Tyrell, had been the intended to be wed to the second son of the King, Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your mother was one of the scarce friends the Queen had made in the court after her estrangement with Princess Rhaenyra. You were born in the walls of the keep, the queen in attendance of your birth, smiling widely as the nurse announced that you were a girl— she was the first person to hold you after your mother and the wet nurse who handed you to her. “Oh, such a beauty she is…” The Queen cooed as she held you in her arms. Your mother smiled through her tiredness at how quickly the queen had taken to you. 

“She would make the most wonderful princess,” The queen sighed and returned you to your mother, turning her head towards the door where your promised groom already stood. Prince Aemond waddled to his mother. The boy was only two years old but was already meeting his intended. The queen took her son into her arms, lifting him up to see his future bride, who whined in her mother’s arms. Aemond furrowed his brows, stuck out his tongue, and made a noise of disapproval when he saw the pink-faced babe. “That’s not quite nice… show respect for your future wife,” The queen smiled and brushed the silvery locks of her son. 

That was the first and last time you and the prince met. Your mother and father returned to Highgarden as their stay in court was cut short with your father needing to return to his seat. For the first six and ten years of your life, you were promised to a man you have never met. Bearing the plight of women before you, promised to a man, not because of your will or your love for him but merely for status and to appease those who stood on high stature. You were defenseless as they paved your life before you, forcing you down a road that was often traveled by but many did not wish to cross. 

“We are to return to Kingslanding.” Your father suddenly announced. The dinner table went silent. The boisterous laughs and jests of your three older brothers and the babbles of your younger twin brother and sister growing hushed. “Why?” You asked quietly, breaking the silence. You pet the fur of your beloved feline, trying to calm your nerves as your mind brought forth a reason. “The queen requested our presence, dearest… it is time to meet your betrothed.” Your mother smiled and took hold of your hand, lightly squeezing it in comfort, thought you felt none. You lowered your gaze and tried to shut out the return of loud voices around the table. 

It was not that it was unexpected… it was just… wholly overwhelming. You took a few moments and a few more bites of your supper before excusing yourself from the loud table, needing peace and quiet. “Are you well, sister?” Your oldest brother, Edward, asked in concern, pausing his conversation with your other brothers, Edgar and Edmund. “Yes, I’m just tired.” You said with a small smile and left the dinner table with your pet. 

The matter of your betrothal with the prince was not at all an old matter. Ever since you were a child, they have instilled in your mind that you were Prince Aemond’s intended. That one day, you will be his bride. It was a subject you found troubling— for how can one live at ease, being promised to a man they had never met before? How could one truly live their life if their purpose is only to be married off— treated practically as a broodmare. 

 You were alone with your thoughts until you heard the faint knock on your door and your brother, Edmund, slowly opening it and peeking his head inside your chambers. “Yes?” You asked and sat straighter, removing your eyes from the fire you stared upon. 

“I am just making certain that you’re well.” He said softly and fully opened your chamber door, stepping in and bringing you a piece of cake for you had missed the dessert portion of your dinner. “Thank you,” You say gratefully, but simply place the piece of your favorite dessert on the table beside you, making your brother quickly grow suspicious. “What’s wrong?” Edmund asked in concern, taking his seat beside you. 

You gave him a forced smile and shook your head. “Nothing, I told you, I’m just tired.” You say softly, but your brother’s frown severed. “You’re clearly lying— no matter how tired you are, you always have energy for cake.” Your brother sighed, making you sigh as well. “I’m… I’m scared,” You admitted. Your brother nodded in understanding, “I would be surprised if you weren’t,” 

You twiddled with the ends of your hair as you and your brother were enveloped in a heavy, suffocating silence. “It’s just— I have been prepared for this since I was a babe… It’s all I know, but at the same time, I know nothing. I have no idea about him. What my life would be like after our marriage.” You say, your voice trembling with fear. “And I have been hearing rumors…” you say cautiously, your eyes upon your pet, who slept soundly on your lap.  “Rumors? You are never one to listen to rumors, "Your brother said in surprise; his sister was always indifferent to whispers and gossip. 

“Last summer, our cousin Eliza had gone to court… and there she observed Prince Aemond for me. To report to me what he was like because I had no idea of my future husband,” You began to recount the favor your cousin had done for you to ease your nerves about the marriage. “And?” Your brother leaned closer in curiosity. “She said he was… cold, aloof. Standoffish— ruthless when training with his sword. Indifferent, bordering into insulting to all members of the court.” You say quietly, uttering the harbored fear of your betrothed for almost a year now. Edmund licked his lips; your cousin Eliza was never one to exaggerate. 

“P—Perhaps it was just that summer… mayhap he has changed with the season,” Your brother tried to give a comforting smile, but it turned wary, neither of you believing his comforting but empty words. “I’m sorry, sister,” Your brother said quietly after a moment, looking at you with empathy. He also wondered how you would fare when married to a dragon prince and being a member of the den of vipers that was the court. 

You had always been timid, quiet, demure. He had always been skeptical of this betrothal set between you and the prince. He recalled how your father wanted to contest it, to break off the betrothal in your adolescence, seeing that his daughter was too soft for the harshness of royalty, but your mother did not wish for it, scared that it would offend her friend, the queen. 

“I don’t expect much from the marriage,” You spoke, “I… I only wish for him to be kind and perhaps grant me my solitude from time to time,” You added, and your brother nodded, “We shall see to it that you have it, sister. If we are to prove that the prince is ungallant or disagreeable, we shall convince Mother and Father to free you from him,” Your brother swore, and you gave him a sad smile, unconvinced by his promise but touched by the gesture of it. 

Edmund left his sister to the quiet she reveled and needed; Edmund marched in search of his other brothers. “She’s scared,” He announced as he found them in the drawing room; Edward, the eldest of them, lifted his gaze, “Who wouldn’t be?” He asked rhetorically as he sipped on his wine. “Are we truly that indebted to the crown? That we must oblige them with our dear sister?” Edgar questioned, “We are not indebted; our mother is,” Edgar replied. Your mother is forever grateful for her friend, the queen, who had shown her kindness during her time in court as a girl. She was greatly looked down upon, her father’s house inconsequential to the realm and often seen as a burden— through her friendship with Queen Alicent, she had risen through the ranks and had even secured a match with the heir of Highgarden. 

“Well, surely our sister is too great a price for this… emotional debt, especially when you consider the others who had wished to be her suitor, princes from Dorne and Essos who had sung her praises and showered her gifts for years. Yet they will force her to settle for a second son. She has not even met him! Not a letter or a token to show goodwill to his betrothed,” Edward sighed at his brother’s query. “What would you have us do?” Edgar asked, “I do not know… but if Prince Aemond is truly as harsh and tempestuous as Eliza and the realm says, we must convince them to break the betrothal.” Edmund was contented as his brothers agreed, all concerned for your marriage with a prince you had not even met yet. 

“Is all these frills truly necessary?” Aemond grumbled as he was being fitted for new garments, suffering through the needed preparations to meet his betrothed. “Yes. We cannot have you wear faded attire that reeks of dragon when you meet your betrothed. And I implore you to be kind and good-humored, Aemond. You must not scare off your wife,” Alicent sighed and nodded as the tailor bowed and finished taking the prince’s measurements. “She is not my wife,” Aemond gritted, “She is not your wife yet,” Alicent corrected, and Aemond shook his head. The dread in him was multiplying by the day. He was fortunate enough that his mother had not forced him to meet his betrothed years before, convincing himself that perhaps she had changed her mind and the betrothal could be broken, but alas, the fateful day to meet you has arrived. 

Aemond had not met you nor heard anything from you. He would think it common courtesy for you to send him at least a letter, to know him before this doomed marriage, but you had sent none— no introduction or anything. He did, however, hear talk about you, the bloomed beauty of the reach. A lady who was already betrothed the moment she was born but was still lined up by men who hoped to be her suitor. Aemond scoffed at the thought, perceiving you as promiscuous and maybe even defiled. Aemond met your cousin last summer, the lady Eliza, loud and not at all chaste. A shameless flirt who went around the castle and made a spectacle of herself, she was not you, but Aemond liked to believe that that is how you acted as well. 

Aemond tried to calm himself, to take his thoughts away from your arrival, but it would seem the castle was a growing reminder of you. He walked passed the great hall that was being dressed up for your family’s arrival. He passed the gardens where gardeners had been tending to flowers that were neglected, fretting that your family would take the wilted flowers as an offense. Aemond shook his head and walked through the guest wing, and saw how your chambers were being prepared. Aemond gritted his jaw and decided to retire early that day, but it would seem even the royal wing of the castle was being dressed up for your arrival. He frowned as he passed a once-boarded-up room being cleaned, “Who is to stay here?” Aemond asked a maid, believing his mother would place you in a chamber that was only a few steps from his own, a rather scandalous decision. 

“The prince Daemon, my prince, the hand says he is to stay for the moon,” A maid bowed, and Aemond furrowed his brow before giving a nod to dismiss the maid, and he walked off to his chambers; it would seem that it was not only your arrival he must worry about, he must worry about the arrival of his uncle as well. 

After five days of travel, you and the whole of your family arrived in Kingslanding. You took deep breaths before exiting the carriage, your kin being welcomed by a row of knights along with the Queen and her children. You could not even bear to look at anyone but the queen, scared to let your gaze travel to your betrothed. Your brothers stood by your side, offering support as all three pairs of their eyes assessed the prince, who had a look of disinterest. Edmund turned to his brothers, trying to see if they as well felt the animosity from the one-eyed prince that was easily felt. Through their eyes, they communicated silently and agreed. 

You straightened your back as you felt the Queen’s gaze upon you; only then did you raise your raise your gaze fully and presented her with a pretend smile. “My queen,” You curtsied lowly in respect; Queen Alicent smiled fondly and offered her compliments. The  queen bemused for her son to have such a comely wife. She turned to her side as she felt Aemond had still not stepped forward or had taken the initiative to introduce himself. 

Aemond sighed as he stepped forward and stiffly, almost reluctantly, bowed before you. He was staring at the skirts of your dress, refusing to look upon your face. He watched as the fabric moved as you curtsied before him. When you straightened your stance, you stared at the floor, still not catching a glimpse of your betrothed. 

You feel your brother Edgar’s arm link with yours as your family is escorted inside the walls of the Red Keep. The royal family walked in front of yours, and only then did you dare to look upon your betrothed. Recalling how your cousin had told you that prince Aemond was the taller of the two princes and had a curtain of straight, silver locks. 

Aemond felt your stare, and it took great restraint upon himself not to turn and gaze upon you to see the actuality of his intended. To deduce if the talk of your beauty was true or just another hoax. 

Aemond felt his mother step closer to him, “Invite your betrothed to the gardens— begin to acquaint yourselves with one another.” The queen whispered, and Aemond rolled his eye. “They have been traveling for five days; let them rest first before you force us to these rituals.” Aemond quietly spoke. His words were easily covered by the chatter of your brothers and two younger siblings, but he still had to hear a word to be uttered from your lips. “Very well then, but I expect you to sit and get to know her later during supper,” Alicent warned, and Aemond resisted verbalizing his disapproval, simply nodding along and going about his mother’s orders just as the dutiful son that he was. 

You and Aemond sat quietly in your seats as the table was filled with chatter. Aemond was not accustomed to it; their usual supper was suffocatingly silent; the only thing to be heard was the clatter of silverware upon porcelain and the breathing of his kin. Now, it was filled with varying conversations from your brothers and his, along with the chatter of the queen and her friend. Aemond had still not looked upon your face and nor you him. He stared upon your hand that was gripping your chalice; just from the looks of it, he could attest that it had never known a day’s work. The look of your flesh was soft, supple, unsullied—a stark difference from his own. 

“Do you think they will go on well?” The queen whispered to her friend; your mother eyed you, who sat in her seat, your gaze upon your plate. Her eyes then turned to your future husband, who gazed at the flickering amber light of a candle in between you. “I do not know… my daughter relishes in silence,” Your mother admitted, and the queen hummed. “So does my son,” 

You chewed on your lip as you noticed everyone at the table was chatting with one another, making small talk, except for you and your intended. You sat by his right, and you could make out the outline of him through the side of your eye; your view of him was a bit obstructed, but you could make out the contour of his nose. You battled with yourself if you should speak with him and, if you did, what topic would you bring up to converse with? 

Aemond licked his lips as he caught the eyes of his mother, imploring him to speak with you. He clenched his jaw and took a few calming breaths before parting his lips to speak. “H… How were your travels, my lady?” Aemond asked through gritted teeth, his head slightly turned in your direction. You blinked, trying to deduce if you had actually heard him speak. You turned to face the prince, finally seeing your betrothed eye to eye. “It was fine, my prince,” You answered quietly with a small smile before you and Aemond were enveloped in silence once more. 

Aemond did not know what overcame him when you spoke, and your eyes met his. He was expecting your voice to be shrill and loud— grating, even. He did not expect to hear such a soft, almost melodious tone when you spoke— a deep contrast from the voices of your kin. 

You bit your lip as you saw your mother from across the table imploring you to keep up with your conversation with the prince. “I— I heard you are quite fond of the histories, your highness,” You inquired quietly, holding your breath as your eyes locked with the unique gaze of old Valyria once more. “I am,” he replied curtly, and you nodded, uncertain if you should speak further or let his answer be, sensing he did not wish for small talk, a sentiment you, too, shared. 

You went quiet once more, and in other circumstances, Aemond would find relief in that, letting himself ease into the quiet, but there was an odd sensation in him that was pushing him to continue the unconventional conversation you two shared. Aemond, however, bit his tongue and let you two be enveloped in silence as you waited for supper to end. 

Aemond returned to his chambers, mind plagued by how to perceive his first encounters with you. He had prepared himself for the possibility of him growing annoyed and aggravated by your presence, but he was surprised in himself as he felt no such emotions rising within him. In truth, he felt somewhat serene that night, a feeling he had not felt in a long time. However, instead of enjoying the calm in his raging being, he ignored it, untrusting of it. Convincing himself that that night was luring him into a trap, one you had devised, acting ever so demure and coy, not presenting your true nature and only deceiving the prince. He will not fall for it. He fortified himself to not lay prey to this calming allure you offered. 

When the next morning came, Aemond was implored with the rest of his siblings to break their fast with yours. Your mothers forcing a bond between their children. Aemond expected his brother Aegon to complain and not abide by their mother’s wishes which is why he was caught off guard as his brother agreed, him being the first one to go to the gardens. “Your Highnesses,” Aemond heard your brothers greet in unison as you four stood and curtsied and bowed before the three of them. 

Aemond first assisted his sister to a chair before finding one for himself, and by fate, the only seat left was the one next to yours. Aemond sat quietly and tried to finish his meal as fast as he could without appearing crude. He listened in to the chatter across the table, surprised that you and his sister struck up a conversation as well. Aemond listened intently to your voice, trying to see if the volume of your speech was forced to lower or if that was just actually the way you spoke, soft— calming. 

He did not pay mind to the subject you and his sister discussed, but he supposed he should have as he suddenly heard quiet laughs emitting from the both of you. Aemond felt an odd warming in his chest as he heard you laugh; it was almost… surreal to hear it. Your laugh was what he imagined nymphs’ laughs would sound like as he read about them in his books. He was in a trance; it was… out worldly that even he, the well-spoken and silver-tongued prince of the realm, was speechless on how to describe it. 

He was proven wholly wrong as he based your manners to be alike your cousin. You were a stark difference from the lady Eliza, and a part of Aemond had hoped you were like her because then, he could justify the prejudice against you that settled and bloomed in his heart. Now, he must come to terms with shedding his cruel perception of you and might actually make an effort to know his betrothed better. Aemond stayed in the gardens that morning a while longer than he had anticipated, trying to deduce your character as you spoke with his sister and interacted with your brothers. A part of him still believes that what you presented was an act, that you were not as demure and chaste as you lead them to believe. But as he saw your small smiles, timid eyes, and flushed cheeks when Aegon would speak of such inappropriate topics, he started to feel as if you were being genuine. 

As the sun began to descend higher into the skies, the children of the queen and her friend decided to depart from the gardens, the heat proving to be too great for comfort. “My lady, would you perhaps like a tour of the keep?” Aemond boldly but quietly asked, he felt the eyes of your brothers turn to him, but he was trying to capture your gaze. A gaze that he had trouble locking upon his, your eyes always darting around the room, difficulty in holding prolonged eye contact. “I would very much like that, my prince,” You smiled, and Aemond stood straighter, feeling his knees give out under him just because of your smile. 

Your brother’s eyes followed you as you and the prince detached yourselves from the group. “Should we not follow them?” Edmund questioned, “Are they allowed to go about without an escort?” Edgar then asked, their queries pointed towards their eldest brother. “I— I do not know… perhaps we should just let them get to know each other, and if sister has any concerns, that is when we shall intervene.” Edward decided, his eyes following your departing figure that was next to a silver prince. 

Aemond was not entirely certain as to how he would go about touring you along the Red Keep; the castle was dreary and had nothing of note to look upon, so he took you to the gallery. It was a less frequented room in the castle filled with portraits of his family’s history as well as some of Westeros. You and Aemond stood before a portrait of the conqueror and his wives, him retelling the histories that you already knew of, but you still listened intently because there was just something in his voice that entranced you. It was deep, velvety, and quiet— holding a sense of calm that enveloped you with every word he uttered. 

Aemond guided you towards another portrait, but he noticed your gaze had shifted to the side of the room, your gentle gaze upon a harp. “Do you play, my prince?” You questioned, unable to resist the instrument that sat lonesome to the side, dusted and neglected. Aemond followed you, “No, I do not,” he answered, his eye going to your fingers, which seemed to itch to touch the strings of the unused harp. “Do you?” He asked, already guessing the answer. Aemond held his breath as your eyes finally locked with his, “I do,” you said, voice holding a pitch of excitement about the subject. There was a beat of silence, neither of you knowing what to do or say. 

“Would you like to play it?” Aemond questioned and he felt his stomach grow warm as a smile appeared on your lips when you nodded. You ventured closer to the dusted seat, but Aemond was quicker to reach it and wipe away the remnants of lapsed time. “Thank you,” You say quietly as the prince stands by your side and observes you play. 

Aemond was never one to enjoy music or songs, but he must admit, there was something captivating about how you played the harp. The tune you played was one he had not heard before, something bright and lively yet still soothing. Aemond stood in quiet awe, watching as your fingers danced along the strings and how your eyes closed, and there was a tranquil smile on your lips as you played the tune. Aemond tried to resist it, but he could not help but help himself as a smile twitched on his lips as he listened to your melody, which, unfortunately, quickly came to a halt. 

“It’s not finished yet,” You say in slight embarrassment, daring to turn to the prince, who you were surprised to see have a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You wrote that?” He questioned, and you nodded, “Well, I try. I don’t think I'm quite good at it, if I am being honest— but my father did say that this piece holds the most promise.” You say sheepishly. “I quite enjoyed it,” Aemond admitted, and that compliment made your heart grow warm. “I’m glad,” You smiled, and another silence took the room, the silence you and he found comfort in. 

With each day spent trying to acquaint with one another, you would like to beleive you and Aemond had reached a deeper understanding. Each of your perceptions made of each other before your meeting shed as you and him began to know each other’s actuality.

There was a secret language between you, a silent one, at that. An agreement that neither of you had to fill up the gaps and lags in your conversations, simply enjoying the quiet, not forcing another topic as a filler. Others around you found it odd that you and your betrothed just walked and sat in silence, occasionally speaking of something that only you and he were privy to, but you and Aemond quite liked your arrangements. 

“They just sit there in silence,” The queen fretted to her friends, finding the design of your accord quite odd. Fretting that the silence was brought by indifference rather than just a mutual and deeper understanding, because how could one get to know the other in silence? “Aye, they do, but they don’t seem… bothered or disinterested by it— I dare say they are fond of it,” Your mother said as the two observed you and Aemond, who walked along the gardens in silence, relishing in the sounds of nature. 

“My uncle shall arrive today,” Aemond broke the silence, assisting you to a seat for the two of you to have refreshments, “Oh, Prince Daemon?” You asked, wanting to make certain of who he spoke of. Aemond gave a nod and watched as your delicate fingers poured him a cup of tea. “Are you close with him, my prince?” You wondered. “No, not at all. I’ve only met him once,” He answered as he placed two cubes of sugar upon your cup, noting that is how you took your tea. 

“However, I must admit that I am intrigued by him.” You nodded, “I always hear talk in this court as to how the lords and ladies compared me to him in his youth,” Aemond confessed, “And does that please you?” Aemond thought about your question for a moment, staring into your gaze that has grown accustomed to looking upon his. “No,” he answered, watching as you nodded. “I would understand; it wouldn’t fare well if we are always compared to another’s likeness,” You mused before you and the prince were enveloped in the inevitable silence once more. 

When supper was nearing, Aemond felt excitement in seeing you once more. He had come far from the prince who dreaded your company; now, he sought it—altering his usual routine in order to spend more time with you. 

Aemond was the last one to enter the dining hall, his eye searching your frame, feeling a smirk twitch on his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he realized his uncle had taken his place. “Prince Daemon, we have saved you a seat next to the king,” Alicent spoke as she noticed Aemond’s arrival, noting how Prince Daemon was quick to spot you when he entered the hall and made a beeline towards you— chatting with you who had no interest in small talk but still participated out of respect.

“I am quite comfortable here, next to Lady Tyrell,” Daemon refused the seat, only settling further into his chair as he turned to the girl next to him, but her gaze was turned to one of his nephews, the one who had a resemblance of him in his youth. You hear the quiet yet disapproving hum of your betrothed as he orders a squire to place a chair by your right, just enough space for him to sit next to you. The new place on your right offered closer proximity between you and Aemond as you had scooted away from his uncle, but he did not like that you were on the side of a damaged eye, unable to see your outline. 

Supper was tenser than the ones shared before; the chatter had died, and the table was enveloped in silence, but not the kind you and Aemond found comfort in. It was the silence that everyone feared and tried earnestly to alter, but no matter the attempts, it seemed futile. 

Aemond clenched his fists around his utensils, hearing as his uncle tried to chat you up and you entertaining his queries. “So, what brings you and your family here, Lady Tyrell? Highgarden is quite a journey.” Daemon questioned. “They came for my betrothed and I to be acquainted,” Aemond suddenly interjected, turning his body to face you and his uncle, who he had noticed threaded closer to your side. Daemon hummed, quick to sense jealousy from his nephew. He knew he should be somewhat mature, but his mind could not help but conjure up possibilities to torment his brother’s second son. “Hm, you are quite fortunate to have such a lovely betrothed; it would seem the crown has favored you… I remember my first wife, Lady Royce, the bronze bitch whose sheep seemed to prove more comely than her,”

Your eyes widened at the elder prince’s words, disparaging his first wife so openly and offensively. “If my brother had provided me with a bride whose beauty was comparable to Lady Tyrell’s, perhaps there would be no need for me to leave my first wife… you are lucky, nephew,” Aemond clenched his jaw as he noticed Daemon’s eyes trail downward to your bosom that heaved ever so lightly as you were rendered uncomfortable by their topic.

You turned to your brothers, a plea in your eyes to save you from the princes you sat in between. Edward was quick to stand, “Come, sister, I shall escort you to your chambers,” He announced, and you let out a breath, Aemond standing as well to make way for you to exit, “Good night, my lady,” He bowed and boldly took your hand placed a kiss on your knuckles. A blush over, taking your cheeks as you curtsied before him, your mothers thrilled as they saw affection blooming between the two of you. 

“You looked quite uncomfortable,” Your eldest brother noted. “Is your betrothed proving to be ungallant? Must we intervene now and convince mo—“ You quickly shook our head, “No! Prince Aemond has been quite… lovely; cousin Eliza was somewhat wrong in her judgment,” You say quickly in defense of Aemond, who you had grown to deeply like the past few days. “I was just not prepared to meet a character such as the Prince Daemon,” You added, and your brother nodded in understanding; he, too, was scandalized as he heard the words uttered by the elderly prince. 

“So, you have grown to be quite… fond of your betrothed,” You bit your lip as you hear a teasing tone in his voice. You sighed and felt a smile coming to your lips. Whatever fear you had for the marriage subsided with every silent and serene moment with Aemond. “I have.” You confirmed, and your brother nodded. Placing a kiss on your temple before you enter your chambers and get ready for the night.

It has been three days since Prince Daemon’s arrival, and Aemond has been growing peeved at how his uncle would always trail you. Aemond’s new routine of spending the quiet hours of his days with you that was quick to feel like second nature, abrupted by the arrival of his uncle. There were now only scarce moments where you and Aemond were left in each other’s company and quiet, his uncle always trying to speak with you, and you could not deny him conversation, for it would be impertinent. 

It was past high noon when Aemond concluded his training with Ser Criston, his feet hastily carrying him away from the tiltyard to find you, who had frequented the gallery to play the old harp that found new life from your touch. He stood by the threshold and was quick to grow annoyed as he noticed his uncle was in your presence once more. 

“You do not speak much, do you?” He heard Daemon question, your fingers ceasing to play the instrument. “I take it upon myself to not speak unless spoken to, my prince. I do not wish to bother anyone. I know how… annoying it can be when one just simply wishes for peace and quiet, but there is an insistent noise you must attend to.” You say, and Aemond was quite surprised as he heard a slight in your comment, but his uncle did not seem to catch it. 

Aemond observed as you returned to play the harp, the melody easing whatever tension he harbored, but it was quick to return as his uncle wandered closer to you. Aemond stood rigid by the door; your back was face to him and he saw his uncle turn his head towards the door, a smirk on his lips as he stepped further into your space. Daring to take a lock of your hair in his fingers, twirling the lock. 

You tensed in your seat as you felt Prince Daemon’s finger twirl your hair. You looked at the strings of the harp wide-eyed, uncertain of what to do. 

When Aemond noticed your unmoving frame that did nothing to hinder his uncle’s actions, he removed himself from the door frame and marched back to his chambers. Whatever understanding made between the two of the past days was quickly forgotten as his cruel perceptions of your nature, he mustered before meeting you returned. 

You sat tensely at dinner that night once more, waiting for the presence of your betrothed to somewhat comfort as his uncle sat next to you again. When Aemond entered the hall, you placed your hopeful gaze upon him, but he did not turn to you, ignoring the empty seat next to you and instead to a seat in what was supposed to be the place of his uncle. 

Throughout dinner, you would peek a look at Aemond, who refused to meet your gaze. There was a prominent scowl on his face, and his demeanor held an air of indifference that strayed dangerously close to animosity. You started to wonder if the Aemond you stared upon right now was the Prince your cousin had warned you about. And perhaps the past few days spent with him was an act, a fictitiousness in him to appease his mother so the marriage would proceed. You were disheartened by the thought. 

When the following morning came, Aemond’s eye followed as you roamed the halls alone, following behind you but not close enough for you to notice your presence. You led him back to the gallery, where both of you were caught in surprise when his uncle stood in the room, waiting for you. Aemond clenched his fists, believing he was a witness in your clandestine meetings. The scandal of it! Here you are, an engaged woman meeting with a man who was old enough to be your father and was married to the King’s chosen heir!

“My prince,” you curtsied as you spotted him near the harp, having the urge to turn back around and exit the room. Uncomfortable to be alone in the Rogue Prince’s presence. “All alone? Where is your betrothed?” Daemon mused, stepping closer to you. “I— I do not know,” You said and backed away from the prince who was threading closer to your space once more. “Hm, it’s quite foolish of him to leave his lovely bride to be all alone… especially in this keep where danger always lurks,” Your lips parted at his words. Was that a threat? You thought. 

You swallowed thickly and turned to the door, wanting to make an escape but not one so obvious that it would make suspicion rise. Daemon smirked as he saw fear in your eyes; it was so easy. You were such an innocent and sheltered thing. He could smell you from leagues away, a lovely and tempting prey that a dragon could never resist. It was a shame that you were betrothed to his nephew, but perhaps that could still change. 

You gasped as you felt Prince Daemon flush your bodies; you stared at him wide-eyed as he took hold of your cheek. 

Aemond watched the scene; rage within burned bright and carelessly. He wanted to put a stop to whatever he witnessed, but he stood in wait, wanting to find evidence if this was truly how you were— promiscuous and would settle to be a whore of his uncle.

“My prince, wh—“ You panicked, trying to back away, but he held you still. “Such a pretty young thing you are… a shame that you’ll be wasted on my disfigured nephew,” You drew out all of your might and pushed away Prince Daemon, him stumbling only a few paces. You see a sinister smirk rise to his lips as he tries to close the gap between you once more, but you are quick to strike his cheek, rendering him in shock, and you take that opportunity to run out of the room and into safety. 

Aemond was hidden behind a pillar, and as you passed, he saw clearly the distress on your face and how you were on the verge of tears, rendering him guilty for not coming to your aid as he had thought you were in want of his uncle. 

Aemond saw as Daemon furiously marched out of the gallery in pursuit of you, but he was quick to step away from his hiding and face his uncle. “You dare try to sully her? Was my half-sister and your whores not enough? Must, in your old age, still prey on young innocent girls?” Aemond spat, ready to challenge his uncle in your honor. Daemon chuckled as the young prince stared at him wide-eyed. “You get ahead of yourself— they might compare you to me in my youth, but you are completely lacking of what it means to be a true Targaryen prince… you’d have to thank your cunt of a mother for that.” Daemon chuckled, and Aemond no longer hesitated to draw out his sword. 

A battle between nephew and uncle commenced in the halls; both men wielded their weapons with such authority that neither one could draw blood. Daemon was somewhat impressed by his nephew. He thought the talk he heard of Aemond was just propaganda spread by his grandsire, but it would seem that his nephew knew his way with the steel. That, however, did not deter the prince, for Aemond was still completely inexperienced when compared to him. 

One of the princes was near drawing blood when a band of Kingsguards appeared in the halls and were quick to separate the dueling princes. Daemon laughed as he was held back by the knights, his nephew still seething across from him, still ready to attack. The elderly prince brushed off the hold on his arms and laughed once more before walking away from his nephew, leaving their state as it was. 

Aemond brushed off the guards and hastily marched in search of you, wanting to make certain you were well— wanting to offer his apologies for his judgments and lack of protection over you. 

He knocked on your door, waiting on bated breath as he heard you shuffling inside. When you slowly revealed yourself, Aemond felt his stomach pit at the sight of your teary eyes that you tried to hide. “I’m sorry,” He was quick to breathe out, unable to stomach you in such a state of distress. Your brows knit together at his words, “What? My pri—“ Aemond shook his head and forced himself into your chambers. 

“I’m so sorry, my lady… I—“ Aemond repeated but you still had no clue as to what he refers to. “My uncle, he is a depraved man; I should have protected you from him.” He explained as he saw confusion in your face. Your eyes widened at his statement, “You saw us?” You asked in fear that he would think you were tarnished. “I have, and I… I should have come to your aid, but instead, my mind cruelly thought you were in want of him; I apologize, my lady.” It felt foreign for Aemond to apologize, but it seemed to roll off his tongue effortlessly for you. He would never have fathom to encounter someone or the day that he would apologize earnestly, ready to beg for forgiveness. 

“No… my prince, you need not apologize; it was not your doing,” you said, but Prince Aemond stubbornly shook his head. “It is my duty to protect you— to defend my lady wife.” You bit your tongue as he referred to you with such a title. It felt surreal… and you must admit it brought a stir in you that you quite liked. 

You and Aemond were in silence once more, the silence both of you had gotten used to, the silence within each other that you both craved. The serene silence that could only be provided by each other. “Will you still… still have me? Even after my transgression?” Aemond dared ask, not wanting to live in the hope that there would still be a way that you would be his. Surely, you would be deterred to take him as your husband, for he could not even defend you with such a threat. Aemond studied your face, his knees growing weak as a smile spread across your lips. “I still want you, my prince,” You admitted, heat blooming in your cheeks as you said the words. Aemond could not help but cup your cheek, wanting to feel the warmth of them as they flushed with color before him. 

“I must admit… I was dreading to meet you,” He said quietly, and he felt you nod. “I, as well… I was greatly warned that we might not see eye to eye.” You admitted. Aemond hummed and brushed his thumb across your soft skin, your bodies threading closer and closer. “I do not believe I would ever want someone as much as I want you,” Aemond confessed, his voice so low that if you had not felt his breath fanning your skin, you would think you had imagined his words. “I never thought anyone would understand me in the way that you do, my prince,” You breathed out as his face threaded closer to yours, his eye on your lips as you spoke. 

“You’re mine… say it, my darling.” Your eyes fluttered closed at his words. “I’m all yours,” Quickly after you uttered the words, you feel his lips upon yours. A kiss filled with longing— impatience. A kiss that was long overdue, for how could either of you live for years without knowing each other? How could Aemond try to ignore your existence, and how could you try to deny this marriage? It was set the day you were born. You two were simply destined for one another. 

As your lips parted, you smiled before your soon-to-be-husband. Aemond hummed in contentment and tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, inhaling your intoxicating scent deeply. “Shall we tell our mothers that they shall prepare for our wedding, then?” Aemond smiled, and you let out a quiet laugh as you nodded, letting him hold you. “And urge them to make haste,” Aemond’s eye twinkled with amusement as he dipped down to capture your lips once more. 

A fortnight had barely passed before you and Aemond uttered your vows before the gods—an intimate wedding commenced, as you both requested. And it was followed by a family dinner after. Aemond was impatient, as were you, but you and he waited for the meal to end; for the past days, there was a need greatly bubbling inside him, having trouble finding restrtaint and contentment with just stolen kisses and touches. 

When it was finally night, Aemond led you to his chambers, you already flushing in anticipation of what was to come. When he led you to your shared chambers, you were met by something covered in a white cloth. You frowned and turned to your husband, who simply smiled and closed the door behind you. “It’s a gift for you.” He said and stood before it. You stepped closer as he urged you to uncover what he had given, though you already had a sneaking feeling as to what it was. 

Aemond watched with his heart in his eye as you beamed before him as you uncovered what he had given— a harp. Newer and grander than the one in the gallery, the body was plated with gold, and delicate carvings of flowers scattered its body. You bit your lip and step towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips agaisnt his. “Thank you… I love it,” you said gratefully as your lips parted. Aemond simply hummed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were to exchange gifts… I could’ve gotten something,” You then say, fretting he would take offense. 

Aemond shook his head. “You already have given me your hand; you are my wife. What more could I want?” Those words uttered, and the certainty in Aemond only made you melt further. He intertwined your lips once more, but the kiss shared held something wholly different from the ones shared before; it was urgent, filled with longing and desires that were greatly suppressed. 

You feel breathless, but at the same time, you make no move to part your lips. You feel him lead you to the feathered bed, his hands on your waist as he sits you gently upon the cushion. You blushed as you felt his fingers hover at the bodice of your dress, itching to undo the laces, but there was trepidation in him. You bit the insides of your cheeks and took the initiative to do it yourself. Aemond sucked in a deep breath as your dress fell before him, revealing yourself only dressed in your shift. 

Aemond fell on his knees before you, moving his hand to cup your cheek and the other to undress you further. He heard a moan escape your lips as he nipped your bottom lip. His cold hand cupped your breast that pebbled before his touch. You mewled his name as he parted your lips, your hands finding the buttons of his leather tunic. 

You ran your hands through his smooth, chiseled chest and Aemond felt chills running down his spine at the feel of your hands on his skin. You let out a breath as you feel your husband lay you down, his weight atop you, his weeping length aligned with your glistening entrance. You sighed as you felt his finger tease your folds, Aemond resting his forehead up your shoulder as he felt your arousal. “You’re all mine, my darling,” Aemond breathed out against your lips and swallowed your whines as his length penetrated you.

Aemond groaned at the sheer feel of you clenching around him. Pleasure and guilt swirled within him as he saw your face contorted in pain, kissing away your tears as you acclimatized yourself with his length. He truly thought himself indifferent in the ways of pleasure, only succumbing to it occasionally when even he could not suffice his lust— but now, he was certain he knew what the fuss was all about when it came to fucking. He had only a taste of you, but he was certain he was addicted. It took a moment before your whines of pain turned into whimpers of pleasure, your husband breathing heavily as you urged him to speed up his pace, but Aemond was conscious not to break and hurt you further. 

“Aemond, please… I wa— need more,” You breathed as Aemond’s thrusts were cautious. He bit his lip and sped up his pace ever so lightly, but that was not enough for you. With your legs circling his waist, you shifted your weight and placed yourself atop your husband. Aemond was rendered stunned by your actions, only watching in awe as you bounced upon his cock whilst you straddled his waist. He never thought you’d have it in you, but he supposed it was always the quiet ones who would be capable of the unexpected. 

“You were so quiet the days before, little wife… but look at you now— your moans could be heard throughout the castle.” Aemond hummed, and his hands found home on your waist, assisting you as you writhed against his length. Your hands were planted on his chest as your hips worked against his in search of friction. “Husband, please,” you pleaded, knowing you would not come to what you searched for without his assistance. Aemond smirked and moved his hands to cup your behind and lifted his hips to thrust deeper and harsher into you. 

“Yes… yes, gods, Aemond!” You cried as you heard him groan at how you scratched his chest, leaving imprints of your hands upon his skin. “Are you to come, my darling? Is my little wife to come at my cock?” He hissed as he felt his own release coming. His hands traveled your frame, cupping your tits and moving his head to take one into the cavern of his mouth. You nodded, your head that was tilted to the heavens, your back arched, and your husband’s name slipping your lips as you came undone. You hear him call out your name as he spills his seed deep in your cunt, your heavy breathings mixed as you collapse atop him, his lips finding yours once more. 

“You truly are made for me,” he whispered against your lips. Feeling a surge of new and overwhelming emotions that you could not yet utter, all you could do was kiss his lips once more and bask in the presence of the man who had been bound to you the moment you were born. 

[evilminji]

Okay this is going to drive me INSANE. D:>

Dearly beloved, Phandom darlings...

Can DANNY EAT VIDEO GAME/TV FOOD?

I... I NEED to know. You don't UNDERSTAND!? Think about it. No, seriously. THINK about all those HIGHLY unrealistic, too good to be true, PERFECT looking meals. Animated shows n games etc where there are chefs who will "cook for Anybody!"

Now think about being 14 going 20. A teenager. A broke college student. Your fridge is empty and everything you touch? Comes back to LIFE. You're... you're just so hungry. Tired. Your bruises have bruises and you have a paper due tomorrow.

I kinda want to CRY.

Can only eat cup ramen so many times before you DO.

And this show? That commercial? Yonder cooking game?? Well... they did a REAL good job animating it. It looks so WARM. So FILLING and COMFORTING. You can practically SMELL it.

You look down at your sad, soggy, cheap but you can afford it, EZ Noodles and? Feel something BREAK inside. You... you KNOW you can travel inside technology. KNOW this. Have done it before. Why... why AREN'T you? You can't keep living like this.

You gotta TRY, right?

I? Wanna believe it TOTALLY works?? Because Ectoplasm is weird like that? And just shrugs? Says "actual food, the concept of food backed by electricity, what's the difference? Sure, we can fuck with this"? And so Danny? IMMEDIATELY fucking switches his diet.

Like? Dead stop screech, slam on the breaks, u-turn to take that last off-ramp. Type IMMEDIATE.

Grocery bill? No, no, you mistake him! No. NOW it's his "carefully researched for their cooking, games and shows" bill. Touch his collection and he'll FUCKING BITE.

They got sticky notes on the cases. Menus n lil fold out "grocery store" locations. He punched a dragon for this fruit. Mmmmm, home cooked meeeeeals~

Just? Weird Foodie Danny. Yes he DOES know what those steaks taste like. While YOU fuckers were staring at the cat girls bizangas, HE was eating granny cat lady's home made meatball stew! Ha! YOU FOOLS!

More then that? I want him to write reviews. Like "yeah, fight system was OKAY but- *5 hour glowing rant about the food, sounding like a food critic who'd actually fucking gone and loved it* " and people are like?? Who? Is this funky lil madman? This is hilarious?

I want it to be DPxDC JUST? So everyone slowly starts to play the game "Meta or Shtick?" Because no one REALLY knows who he is. This dude gets POPULAR though. For some reason can't be hacked (shame on you guys! Way to try and ruin the FUN!). And like? Eventually? Someone just fucking ASKS?

And Danny is like... " wouldn't YOU like to know, weatherboy?"

So everyone is like:

"Meta."

But hey... since they're already ASSUMING~? >:3c WHOOOOO wants to help him PAY RENT~? Let's VLOG this fucker! Wooooo! Say "hi" Catchef! *feline noises* like? It's like a let's play combined with a mukbang.

Teen Heros everywhere are FACINATED. Game developers are suddenly like? "If there's food. You BETTER make it look amazing. We want that weird YouTube twink to... whatever his powers are, our game! Free viral marketing!" Food channels? Rending their clothes, on their KNEES, please! PLEASE! Just ANSWER OUR EMAIL! Just ONE SHOW! A one off! Guest appearance!

We have MONEY!!!

All while Danny? Is finally happy with his life. Weird as hell. Harrasing the world. Good food on the regular. Gets to travel, kinda. Best of all? He's raising money from it! Can help people! Now... who wants salad?

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @hypewinter @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @dcxdpdabbles @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Meaningful Mistakes | Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: After what you had thought to only be a simple one night stand with Cassian and Azriel, you discover that you’re pregnant, and while delivering the news, the bond between the three of you snaps.

Word Count: ~3.4k

Warnings: Smut, so much smut, mlm, gay smut, threesome, penetration, oral, hate sex, ovulating? just a monster in general, also (surprise) pregnancy, mentions of morning sickness, nausea..all the things that come along with pregnancy

Minors, do not interact

A/N: I feel like so many ppl make the multiple mates thing but then only make it seem like they’re in love w reader which is so weird to me…this request was such a good one and a chance for me to play around with this, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Azriel and Cassian had known you for a few centuries, and while the three of you were close friends, you never would’ve thought you found yourself in this situation.

Sure, the two were close, but when you’d woken from a nightmare late at night, walking to Azriel’s room, you found it odd that the shadows weren’t swirling beneath the door like usual.

Even weirder, the door was slightly ajar, half an inch or so, and the sounds of panting and ragged breathing from inside only registered in your brain as you peeked open, sniffling before your mind was registered blank as you saw both of the males inside.

Cassian was sprawled out, wings spread and twitching, legs being forcefully held open by dark shadows, the shadowsinger himself above Cassian, Azriel shoving himself in and out of the General at a punishing pace, dark splotchy marks on his necks. It looked more like a hate fuck than anything, Cassian trembling and babbling beneath him.

Azriel’s gaze immediately snapped to you as you stared, frozen in place, at the sight before you. His sharp gaze took in everything, even while Cassian squeezed him so tightly. The dried tears on your cheeks, the way you sniffled a bit, and your scent, even while slightly tainted by arousal, still reeked of being upset or fearful. His gaze softened as he leaned down to speak to Cassian, pace slowing down until stopping completely as he pulled out.

He murmured something to the male, who groaned as the shadows slowly released him, moving his large body to sit up, eyes widening slightly as he saw you, a tiny blush on his cheeks that you were quickly distracted from as he softly grinned at you, waving you over.

“C’mere, sweet girl.”

You sniffled, still upset from the nightmare, and now feeling even worse for interrupting them in the throes of their pleasure. You walked over to him, and he promptly pulled you into his lap, seemingly in a more affectionate mood than usual as he rubbed his face against your inner neck multiple times, his length rubbing against the bottom of your nightgown.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Azriel asked, voice quiet and gentle as ever, as if nothing had been happening mere moments before. His shadows’ soothing touch against your skin mingled with his scarred hands as he reached to grab you from Cassian’s arms, only for the male to refuse to hand you over, intent on rubbing into you until you reeked of his scent.

You shook your head, though the answer was lost as you watched the two of them glare at each other, Azriel’s growl that tumbled from his lips doing nothing to alleviate the tension, and Cassian’s returning growl not helping. You sighed, a nightmare long forgotten as you dealt with the new nightmare you’d created.

“Quit with the territorial shit, just…share, or something.”

You said, Cassian giving you a skeptical glance. Azriel, however, looked like he’d just realized something, a dark feline glimmer entering his eyes as he smiled slowly. Cassian and you both noticed this, glancing at each other.

“Scheming face?”

You asked in a low tone. Cassian sighed.

“Definitely.”

He answered, already dreading what his brother would think, but excited as well.

“You want us to share you, hmm?”

Azriel’s voice, now a low purr, asked as he crept closer to you and Cassian on the bed. A flush entered your cheeks as you realized what he was implying, and how much you liked the idea was obvious based on the heat already pooling in your core, much faster than it usually would’ve, and should’ve been.

Cassian grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying where this was going. Azriel tilted his head slightly at you, clearly asking for your consent, even if the answer was obvious. Your little nod was all he needed before his hands were on both you and Cassian.

“Let’s continue where we left off.”

He said with a small smirk, easily flipping Cassian’s muscular body over onto his stomach, with you lying further above him on the bed. You watched, nearly entranced as Azriel’s throbbing cock pushed into Cassian’s ass, the male jerking and rubbing his hips into the bed for any relief or friction.

“Az—“

“Get her ready for me, Cass.”

That little order was all the General needed, clothes ripped off by his large hands and lying on the floor in pieces. His tongue was immediately on you, giving you no reprieve as it licked a stripe through your sopping wet core, the erotic sounds of slurping filling the air as he lapped up everything your pussy had to offer for him, nose brushing against your clit as he began tongue fucking you, groaning against you as you moaned his name.

The familiar white-hot pleasure was building in your core as your hand fisted in Cassian’s hair, tugging at the already loose bun it was in as he moaned into you, tongue loosely vibrating with the action as he began sloppily sucking your clit, throwing his ass out to meet Azriel’s thrusts as the shadowsinger also grabbed his hair, pulling back as you pulled forwards.

He’d already been on the edge, but the minute your hands gripped the base of your wings and squeezed, he came all over the mattress, face buried in you as Azriel groaned at how he’d tightened around him, thrusts speeding up before he came right after you.

It was a mess of moans and sloppy sex, before Azriel slipped out of Cassian, pulling the General up into a wet kiss, both males were still dazed, but Cassian pulled away despite Az’s growl of protest to mumble something out.

“She’s ovulating, Az.”

He said, panting for air as you watched the both of them in a heated gaze. Azriel’s eyes widened, before filling with a dark heat as he looked down at your spread form.

“Is she?”

He crooned as he pulled you back up into his arms, glancing at Cassian as the other male moved behind you, arms sliding over your waist and groping your sensitive breasts as you moaned at it, mind still spinning from your last orgasm as Azriel’s hand went to settle on your hips, the other stroking himself as he looked down at you.

“Does our pretty girl want to be bred? Does she need two big, strong males to fill her up?”

He crooned, a rare and wicked smile beginning to form on his lips as you whimpered, nodding as he lined himself up with your entrance. You heard the ‘click’ of something opening and squirting out, before being put back on the nightstand.

Glancing back, you saw Cassian rubbing lube onto his dick. He gave you a lazy grin when he saw you watching him before Azriel pushed into you and made your attention snap back to him, despite Cassian’s slick hands fingering your hole, lubing you up now.

“Azriel..”

You said breathlessly, inches and inches of him pushing in, stretching you wider than anyone you’d ever had before. It didn’t help that Cassian slowly began pushing into your ass at the same time, sandwiching you between their warm chests as Az’s shadows caressed your nipples.

“Please, please-“

You mumbled as they both finally were to the hilt, rubbing gently up and down your walls, only a thin layer of flesh separating their dicks.

“Easy, angel. Tell us ‘red’ if it gets too much, alright?”

You nodded, but Azriel didn’t seem impressed, looking you in the eye as he began moving in little thrusts that Cassian quickly picked up on and matched.

“Words.”

Azriel said firmly, looking you in the eye. You whimpered.

“Y- yes.”

You managed to get out, even as their thrusts turned deeper, faster until you could feel every delicious vein rubbing against you. Cassian groaned, hips snapping against you at a punishing pace as his chest rubbed against your back, his teeth and tongue on your neck.

“Oh fuck, ‘can feel you throbbing, Az.”

He groaned, panting against your skin, the pace only speeding up with Azriel matching him. Azriel’s gaze was unfocused as you tightened around him, his wings shuddering.

Cassian’s hands went from around you to around Azriel, reaching over and to his back. Azriel’s eyes widened as he saw what he was about to do, and his hands shot out to stop him, but they were too late as Cassian groped the base of Azriel’s wings. Azriel let out a lewd moan, hands then groping Cassian’s wings and he did the same, both bucking into you at random, eyes rolling skywards as Azriel came, spewing thick buckets into you.

Cassian panted, dick throbbing as you came for the umpteenth time that night. The two exchanged a glance, a silent conversation happening between them as Azriel pulled out, and before you could even whine at it, Cassian bullied his dick into your hole, pushing it as deep as he could as you cried out, his cum mixing with Azriel’s

He shuddered, collapsing onto you, only pulling out because Azriel managed to grab you and move you over to him, pulling you against his chest as Cassian whined and scooted over to the both of you, arms sliding around you next to Az’s, his wing draping over both of you, Azriel’s wrapped around both of you underneath his.

“You okay?”

Cassian asked, sounding tired, but content and satisfied. You nodded, sighing.

“Yeah, that was nice.”

You mumbled against Azriel’s shoulder, eyes starting to slowly shut, your mind keenly ignoring the mess all three of you had made in the bed.

*********************************************************

That night had been a one-night thing, you told yourself.

Even if you’d had morning sickness the past three months, your stomach had been bloating badly for weeks, the mornings you’d had to skip training or found your feet sore and aching.

Even as you lay down on the table, Madja’s cold, skilled hands ran over your stomach and pushed, touching, feeling for tense minutes, before she delivered the news you’d been hoping against.

“You are…pregnant. It’s too early to determine anything further than that and too late to abort it.”

Her old voice rang out, and you swallowed, shoving down the feelings and tears that bubbled up as you nodded. Getting up and pulling your shirt back on as you went for the door, mumbling thanks.

“I..wish you the best.”

She muttered as you walked out, making your way to the training grounds from Madja’s tent, where you knew Azriel and Cassian would be sparring, or maybe today’s training would be over by now.

Your suspicion was confirmed as you spotted the two downing water, Cassian grinning about something that was probably as stupid as he could be sometimes, while Azriel gave him an unamused look. Azriel noticed you first, gaze darting towards you, seeing your upset and slightly panicked look and immediately trying to figure out what was wrong, why, when it had happened, and how he could fix it.

He said something to Cassian that not even your Fae hearing could register, and Cassian frowned, glancing at you. When you reached them, the General held his arms out, and you stumbled into them, bursting into tears and reprimanding yourself mentally for it.

Both of their eyes softened and Cass was holding you close, Azriel right by him, one hand on your shoulder comfortingly.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m pregnant.”

You said with a sniffle, and then your already hazy vision went downright blurry as you began crying anew, this time at the feeling, the snapping in your chest of something slotting right into place. And then Azriel was crying and holding onto you and Cassian, and then Cassian was crying.

It was an entire mess, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, having those two as your mates, and them having each other as mates. The need to be around and with them at all times, to have them inside and out, to hold you, was all too overwhelming.

And to know that…

“It’s…ours?”

You were carrying one of their children?

“Yes.”

You managed to get out, tears reduced to sniffles from all parties as Azriel then easily picked you up, Cassian right beside him, the both of them walking into the House, but Azriel faltered at the stairs.

“Your room.”

Cassian said. The male wanted to be smothered with the scent of his mate’s scent in his room, in his sheets, with his shadows. You lived in the townhouse, so your room wasn’t an option, unfortunately enough.

“Yours.”

Azriel countered, a hint of pleading in his gaze that Cassian had rarely seen before. With a sigh, and running a hand through his dark hair, he relented.

“Fine. My room.”

Cassian’s room probably had fewer hidden daggers under pillows, mattresses, and gods know where anyway, you figured, as you were carried to Cassian’s room and into the warmth inside it, Az’s shadows following along eagerly. They were surprisingly friendly, immediately tightening around you and Cassian, especially on your stomach, even if there was barely any sign of it showing yet. As he noticed it, Azriel’s gaze turned concerned.

“Have you had any morning sickness?”

He asked in a concerned tone. You hesitated before speaking.

“Or cramps?”

Cassian then asked, shuddering at the thought of it.

“Or aches and pains?”

“Or sore ankles?”

“Or nausea, vomiting, and fatigue?

“Oh gods, don’t tell me you’ve had any heat flashes…those are the worst.”

They went on and on listing any and every pregnancy symptom you’ve heard of, and some you hadn’t before you interrupted them.

“Guys, yes to most of those, but I’m fine.”

Their faces only seemed more concerned with that, Azriel speaking.

“You are growing a child, one of our children inside of you, which might have wings that can make a birth deadly, might I remind you, and you expect us not to be concerned?”

He asked, Cassian then horrified at the thought of it. You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“It’ll all be okay, Madja told me that some females adjust to the wings and their birth canal widens.”

Cassian raised a brow.

“Feyre’s didn’t.”

“Yeah, well Feyre was born human, died, and was brought back to life with magic. She might not be the best example.”

You said dryly, Azriel setting you on the large bed, big enough for both of the Illyrian males to easily have enough room for their wings to spread. That was probably purposeful, given what you’d caught them doing three months ago. Your face crinkled in a thoughtful frown as you thought about it.

“How long have you two been fucking?”

You then asked. Cassian coughed for a minute, swallowing, and Azriel had a light dusting of pink on his cheeks as he tried to answer, stammering, before giving a resigned sigh.

“It’s an…on and off thing.”

He answered in a slightly strained tone, and you were skeptical, as was clear based on your expression.

“Not anymore, I guess. Not that I mind.”

You said with an amused smile, and Cassian only grinned, sitting down next to you as he leaned over and gave Az a chaste kiss on the lips, still grinning like an idiot when he pulled away.

“You don’t know how good it feels to do that and not feel an ounce of regret or the urge to hide it.”

He said to you, still grinning out of pure joy as he then kissed you on the lips. Even Azriel had a small smile on his face, one that turned into more of a surprised expression as you pulled a packet of crackers from your pocket, the kind you would only get from a restaurant as a small side, and opened the package, offering one to Cassian, and one to him.

“Are you sure?”

Azriel asked, clearly mirroring Cassian’s thoughts as they shared a glance. You nodded.

“I’m sure, and before you even think about it, it won’t hurt the baby as long as we don’t go too rough.”

“It’s called a frenzy for a reason.”

“I wasn’t aware a frenzy would involve bashing my stomach in.”

A low growl sounded from both males as you even said that in a dry tone.

“Don’t say such things.”

Azriel said with a huff, pulling you further back into the bed to lay down with his hand on your stomach, Cassian eagerly joined you, laying his head down right above your stomach and smiling down at the tiniest of little bumps that were there, his hand caressing the bottom of it. It could easily be mistaken as just bloating or a little stomach pouch, but they knew.

With one hand, Cassian popped the cracker into his mouth. Azriel hesitated, but seeing Cassian do it, and seeing you so at ease with them made him sigh and relent, one bite swallowing the cracker whole from him.

*********************************************************

The frenzy hadn’t been tame at all, but the full force and frustrations they couldn’t involve in their sex with you, they took out on each other.

Sometimes it was slow, and loving while you got to watch and lay on the sidelines, and with how often you were sick in the mornings or nauseous or just plain tired, you were perfectly content doing when not catching up on lost sleep. However, more often than not it was fast, aggressive, and more like a battle of dominance between the two males that Azriel usually ended up winning, but when Cassian did….

You still couldn’t get the sight of Az, ass up and filled by Cassian, face shoved down halfway into the mattress by the firm hand pulling on his hair, his mouth open as he, the stoic shadowsinger and Spymaster, moaned and whimpered, eyes wide and shadows holding him down for Cass.

When they did take their turns with you, determined not to overwhelm you, they were nothing more than gentle and loving, restraining themselves to an almost painful point.

When the bond had finally died down, the two took up what was almost like shifts. When Azriel had missions, Cassian was watching you, tending to you and your every need. When Cassian had to go visit the war camps, Azriel was there, quiet and loving you in his quiet way. On the very rare occasions that they were busy, Azriel would leave his shadows with you, or some of them at least, and check in on you very often.

You wanted to go walk and get food? No. They could carry you. You didn’t need to be putting weight on your ankles.

Your feet hurt? Cassian would take the left and massage it, Azriel on the right while the shadows fetched a cold towel for the heat flashes you’d had.

Morning sickness? They had Madja on speed dial with the herbs and tonics and everything they could get for you, besides holding your hair back as you hurled and cleaning it from your mouth.

Weird food cravings? They would fetch it without a single weird look, and you even got Cassian to try a pickle with hot sauce on it once.

Anything you wanted, you got. Hot baths with both of them, massages, heating pads, specific cravings, medicine, love and affection, cuddles, kisses, literally anything. These men were whipped for you and each other, and their favorite time of day was when you were all home together at night.

Cassian would be on your left side always, claiming it as the superior side and his favorite, his arm wrapped under you, his hand on your belly and wing curled around both you and Az as his head lay on the pillow next to you, hot breath fanning over your neck.

“G’night, love ya.”

He mumbled, a sleepy grin on his face as he looked from you to Az. Azriel had one arm wrapped under and around you as well, the hand that wasn’t in use on your stomach right above Cassian’s. His wings were stretched beside him, hanging off the bed so the wind from the window would blow onto them, something you suspected helped soothe the scars that covered the leathery appendages.

“Goodnight, Cassian. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Azriel would speak, voice betraying a bit of drowsiness. You were sandwiched between the two, but between Cassian’s heat on your left, and the cool window air and touch of Azriel on your right, it was a nice balance. You smiled, one hand on your stomach, between Azriel’s on the top and Cassian’s on the bottom, yours just in the middle.

“Goodnight, mates.”

You murmured, smiling to no one in particular as you drifted off to sleep.

[gojoshooter]

hewoo! sorry for bothering u, but I'm just really into sukuita and humm... maybe u could write something about how sukuna loves to have his little brat yuuji sitting on his lap? just if u want of course! god I love those two so much😭💕

Suku-nii's Best Boy

an. with my returning sukuita fever i present you this lil hybrid fic ;) hope you like it @wukxon

Tiger!Cub Yuji in his big brother Tiger!Hybrid Suku-nii ’s lap, all sobby and snotty as he complains of his ongoing teething process.

-

The little Tiger!Cub Yuji had been found by his aniki on the kitchen floor, whines spilling out his tiny babbling mouth out of discomfort when Sukuna comes to check up on him.

Big brother Sukuna wasn't the type to hoist a little cub up on his hip and coo to lul him quite, instead just propping him up on his feet by his underarms so his little yuji stands in front of him instead. The action reduces the cub's sobbing into sniffling, as he peeps up at Suku-nii with big watery golden-brown eyes.

Sukuna bends his knees to come closer to his tiny brother's height, inspecting while pulling his cheek “Huh, what is it little snot?”

“...hurts” Yuji pouts, water brimming the brink of his doey eyes again when he projects baby arms towards his big brother, making grabby hands. “Chuku-nii... uwp” his pout too big for a more coherent sound.

Now—Tiger!Hybrid Sukuna knows he's a tough man, but he would rather die than not scoop his little brother Yuji who pleads his comfort so purely, which he does a moment and a sigh later. Sukuna saunters to the couch, bothered Yuji clutched to his side.

“Where does it hurt,” the little cub now seated in his lap, Sukuna wipes the tear streams off his little brother's fluffy-soft fat cheeks “tell me brat?” his tone softer than his words.

“Aa!!” Yuji opens his tiny mouth, an acusatory finger pointed towards his small buccal cavity. The bigger feline hums, taking the smaller one's face in his palms—thumbs pushing on the cheeks to pry open his mouth wider. Little pointy canines could be seen halfway out into joining the cub's set of teeth.

Sukuna frowns, gently pressing on one of the cub's canines causing Yuji to flinch away with an angry whine. The elder hums again in confirmation, cupping Yuji's sulky face and dragging it closer. He's teething—Sukuna concludes. The elder bounces his seated tiny body on his knees for distraction.

He brings a finger near the younger's mouth, pushing it slowly on the cub's lips for him to take. “We will get some toys for your sore jaw, 'dori.” he grins watching his troubled little Yuji who depends on him so much.

Tiger!Cub Yuji nibbles on his Aniki's finger, leaving small tents of his canines and droll on the skin. His tiny palm forgetting to loosen the grip to his Suku-nii's shirt.

Sukuna might have a hunch or so for why his little brother has gotten more attached to him rather than their any other relative or friend—who comprehensibly wanted Yuji's attention more than him,, but he never really understood.

Whatever the case... he has already grown affectionate to the stinkingly adorable and clingy brat in his lap for life is what he knows.

masterlist! sukuita hcs!

an. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAA😭 hope y'all like it, thank you for reading, likes & rbs are appreciated <333

tags. @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts @dianagracesworld @pupkashi

[bowrapped]

burning for you

feline hybrid!reader x older!leon

tags: 18+, porn without plot, cis!afab!reader, owner/pet dynamics, daddy kink, mating/heat cycles, breeding kink, praise kink, hand kink, dd/lg-like themes, established relationship, surprisingly soft?

4.3k words

notes: i took the plunge and finally completed an nsfw fic based on some of my submissions to @lipglossanon as 🎀 anon! i hope y’all enjoy :)

crossposted to ao3

The front door subtly clicked as Leon unlocked it. Usually, you would already be headed to the door in greeting, your sensitive ears picking up his presence from the smallest of noises. This time, however, you were nowhere to be seen, and Leon called out to you as he shed his various accoutrement and walked deeper into the home.

Life with a hybrid had come with solace and routine for Leon, though it was a bit touch and go at times. You had a penchant for digging into his dirty laundry, wrapping yourself in sweaty workout clothes that you swore smelled divine. You were incredibly affectionate, something that both comforted and occasionally confounded Leon. You sweetly stayed by his side, purring as your long tail swished with affection. That’s not to say you were clingy—just honest in your feelings for the older man.

All of these factors were even more pronounced during your heat cycles. Leon knew another was coming soon, and he had a hunch it had come a bit early in spite of his preparations.

The thought was practically confirmed when there was no response to his calls. Leon quickly moved to his bedroom, past experience guiding him to your likely whereabouts.

As expected, he found you curled against his sheets and an assortment of his clothes. Your hands were bunched in the pile of fabric, pointedly refraining from touching your lower body while your thighs pressed together—trying and failing to find relief.

In his presence, you merely whined and curled yourself further into the makeshift nest around you, seemingly unable or unwilling to move very far.

Leon moved to sit on the edge of the bed and sighed, “There you are.”

You quickly shifted from your spot, your face pressed into his side as your hands tightly gripped his shirt. Your body was so tightly strung that you were near tears as you clung to your owner. Voice high and desperate, you cried into the cloth, “I needed you—need you so bad, Daddy.”

Daddy. The name had been your suggestion. You’d asked to call him that from the beginning, stating that it encompassed everything you dreamed an owner would be. A caregiver—someone who would love you unconditionally. His heart had melted at the confession, and he couldn’t help the twinge of arousal hearing the title from your lips. He diligently kept the expected promise of the name, and spoiled you just as it suggested. Middle age was surely softening him, but he wouldn’t focus on that now.

Leon easily untangled you from his side, gathered you in his arms, and sat against the dark wooden headboard. You were pliant as he settled you in his lap, back pressed against his chest and legs resting outside of his. Still, your hands clung to the muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

“Poor kitty,” Leon cooed as he guided your hair to the side, careful not to muss your pointed ears. His lips grazed your heated skin, stubble slightly tickling you as he went, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier, but I’m here now, alright? Daddy’ll make it better.”

“Daddy, please, I—“ you mewled as Leon mouthed and nipped at your neck. “Was so good. I didn’t touch myself just like you told me to. Been waiting for you. Been so good,” your breath was heavy while you babbled, desperate for Leon to touch you.

He hummed in interest and smiled softly at your words—though you couldn’t see it. That rule was another staple in your dynamic, not born from sadism, but what Leon considered necessity.

Though you’d gotten better, you still had a tendency toward messiness. While he couldn’t fully fault you, he still needed to set some ground rules. Coming home to the sight of you grinding against his pillow was hot in the moment, but the extra laundry to be done after the fact was another story.

“Is that right?” He continued to press kisses into your nape as his hands roamed across your clothed chest, “That’s my girl. Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

You preened under his praise, chasing the large, rough hands that languidly explored your upper body over the threadbare fabric of Leon’s old tee. Your smaller fingers wrapped around his wrist in an attempt to pull his hands lower. You needed his fingers on your clit, in your cunt, anywhere that could give relief to the burning heat threatening to consume you.

Your body relaxed against Leon’s as he easily followed your lead. The feeling immediately dissipated when he didn’t go further down, but lifted your shirt hem instead.

“Daddy…” you grumbled. Your disappointment was evident, but Leon still pointedly ignored your spread legs and instead exposed your chest to the cool air of the room.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice low in his chest. “Want to give you some attention here first,” his calloused palms rested underneath your breasts, “We can’t have them feeling left out, can we?”

A high moan caught in your throat. You wanted to argue, to pull his hands down again, but you merely held onto his wrists as he continued to caress you. Your want to follow Leon’s somehow won out over heated desperation.

He caught your pebbled nipples between his forefinger and thumb, rolling and tugging them before grasping your breasts once more. You arched into his calloused hands, pleasured whimpers unmistakable in spite of your discontent.

“There you go…” Leon’s voice was soothing. “I know it’s hard, but just let me play a little.”

You let him. You always did. In your mind, Leon hung the stars, and you consistently followed him even when you protested.

It didn’t help that the rough attention he gave your breasts was a dizzying combination of too much and not enough. Your mind would be muddled regardless, but it was especially so now.

Neither his ministrations, nor your keens wavered as he spoke, “So sensitive here, sweetheart…Makes me wanna use my mouth on you—kiss you until you couldn't take it anymore.”

Your ears were downturned at his words. You knew you would take whatever Leon gave you, but you didn’t know if you could take that much teasing in your current state.

Leon huffed a laugh into your neck, ”I would, too, but you want me somewhere else, right?”

You immediately nodded, your hands again attempted to guide him between your legs. Leon’s arms remained firm, as did his tone, “C’mon. Gotta use your words for me.”

“‘M sorry,” your voice warbled, “I do.” You tugged his wrists again, succeeding this time in moving his hands further downward.

Leon’s fingertips grazed the frilly top of your panties as he playfully feigned ignorance.

“Here?” he questioned, a teasing smile on his face.

Your tail flicked in discontent as you immediately spread your legs even wider for him. “Yes. Please touch me, Daddy. I need it. Need you so badly.” Your hips canted upward, seeking friction that wasn’t there. The ache between your thighs was all-consuming, and you were desperate for the relief you knew Leon could give.

Leon gently patted your hip, “Alright. I’ll give you what you need, okay? No more teasing.”

He snaked his right hand underneath your waistband. His free arm wrapped firmly around your waist—an anchor for you as well as a way to keep you still. The wet spot you left on the white fabric was almost translucent on Leon’s hand as he gathered your slick on his fingertips.

His fingers easily glided across your entrance and up to your clit. You immediately bucked at the contact, but Leon’s arm didn't budge from its place across your soft stomach as he held you against him. His touch started in slow circular motions so as not to overwhelm your sensitive body.

Still, your hips desperately attempted to chase his hand, and you whined in both relieved pleasure and indignation at Leon’s stilling grasp. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he cooed.

As much as you wanted Leon to rush with you, he often opted to take his time. In addition to his penchant for teasing, you were precious to him, and he wished to convey that in part with how he handled you in intimate moments—at least until you urged him enough to do differently.

Leon’s languid caresses grew stronger as he guided your overstimulated body. Sloppy, rhythmic clicks and vocal, heaving breaths announced your desperation to the otherwise silent room. His fingers swept across your clit and down your soaked cunt where he began to work his fingers inside you. Your muscles immediately tightened around him, trying to pull his digits further in.

“Hah—Daddy,” you cried out, body still trying to move with the rhythm of his hand. The heel of Leon’s palm grinded against your clit as two of his fingers curled inside you. You lurched, moans caught high in your throat at the intense feeling. Your dulled nails gripped Leon’s forearms. The unfounded thought of him removing his hands had you scrambling to keep him in place.

With your limited movement, you arched back into Leon as you chased the stimulation of his hand. The feel of his hardening cock underneath you only spurred on your growing climax. The air was filled with your high-pitched cries and the lewd wet sound of Leon’s fingers moving inside of you, “Fuck—please, don’t stop, Daddy.”

A low hush brushed against your skin. “It’s okay, I won’t stop,” his lips were hotly pressed to your ear as he attempted to soothe you. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

Leon’s soft words and strong grip were grounding to your overactive mind. Though your hand was tight on his own and your cries didn’t fully cease, your body still minutely relaxed into his.

“Atta girl,” Leon murmured, “You’re alright. Just need to let Daddy take care of you.”

He pressed his palm harsher against you, trying to guide you over the edge, “Want you to cum on my fingers first. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm. I can,” you hiccuped, “Wanna feel good. Wanna be good for you, Daddy.” You continued to chase your high, grinding down on Leon’s hand as he pressed a third finger alongside the others.

His voice kept rumbling softly in your mind, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t grasp any of the words spoken into your tufted ear. Your attention was solely focused on your impending climax and the sight of Leon’s hand between your legs.

Your eyes followed the flexing tendons in his wrist down to the hand half-hidden by soaked fabric. A part of you yearned to see his hand work against you, unconcealed by the frilled garment. Another loathed the idea of losing his touch at all.

You didn’t have to ponder the dilemma for much longer as your climax encroached the forefront of your mind. Leon’s hands and voice were both quickly guiding you toward your peak, and you followed the feeling with abandon. Your body had been left wanting, but now it could finally get relief. You trembled in his arms, ears folded and brow furrowed in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he drawled, “Know you can do it, baby.”

The knot in your core continually grew tighter under Leon’s rough hands and gentle coaxing. You fell over the edge easily. Your nails and mind latched onto the whispered promise of relief and a full cunt. Later, you’d be apologetic at each of the marks you left on Leon’s skin, but the thought was far away in the wake of your climax.

Your ears buzzed as the feeling swept you under. Leon worked your body through it, his fingers sticky with your release.

“There you go…” he cooed. His touches slowly transitioned from strong presses to soft caresses that left your body quivering.

Your chest heaved on the pleasant come down. Yet still, you felt empty in spite of his fingers. Heat demanded one thing from you, and the yearning ache in your core would not let you forget that fact.

You impatiently pulled his hand from your panties and interrupted its languid dance across your pussy. His fingers separated, and the semi-translucent strings connecting them instantly caught your eye.

Without thinking, you ran your textured tongue up his salty-sweet palm. “Daddy,” you spoke against his skin. “Wanna keep going,” you captured his fingers between your lips, catching his knuckles on your canines and muffling your voice, “Please?”

You lost yourself in your owner’s calloused hands. You had always been enamored with them and their ability to treat you with both stern guidance and delicate finesse. Today was no different.

Leon’s grip tightened around your waist. As much as (or perhaps, because) he loved it, attending to you had left him painfully hard and wanting. The feel of your warm mouth and the unintentional satisfied hums reverberating in your throat did little to help.

He shifted his fingers against your tongue, coaxing your mouth open when he spread them. You chased the thin bands of saliva connecting you, gathering his fingers back into your mouth in a meager attempt to clean them.

Leon’s eyes were fixed onto your mouth as he breathed, “Alright, baby. Just need you to get up for me, okay?”

Your lips relinquished their hold on Leon’s hand, now only slightly less messy than before. You quickly adjusted your position—poised on your knees, presenting yourself regardless of your semi-clothed form. Your tail swayed above you in silent beacon as you awaited his response.

God. Leon was sure you’d be the death of him. He’d expected you to simply shift, to sit between his legs and face him while you anticipated his next words. Normally, you would, and Leon felt this boldness was a side effect of your biology-induced desperation. Either way, he couldn’t help but enjoy the view.

His hands easily rested on your hips as he knelt behind you. One rested at your tailbone, your soft fur nestled in the cradle between his index finger and thumb. The other teased at the line of your underwear in the silent promise of removing the garment.

“Shit,” he sighed, “Almost too pretty for your own good.” His palms were hot against your skin, unmoving but firm.

You shivered underneath him when you realized the image you likely projected in that moment. You, half-clothed with tousled hair and your hips high in offering. Him, still in the base of his work clothes with only flushed cheeks and tented jeans to betray his lust.

Fighting the urge to grind back into him, you let Leon explore your body at his own pace.

He silently stroked the base of your tail as his eyes and free hand roamed over your body. A low purr vibrated in your chest. Though the heated ache persisted, you always indulged in any attention Leon gave you.

Leon had a strong teasing streak—something that had seriously frustrated you at first. In your mind, you didn’t know why you would deny yourself when you could instead be honest and proactive in your desires.

With time, you learned that while it did partially come from a place of mischief, it mostly stemmed from appreciation. He wanted to take his time with you, lathe affection on each inch of your skin, and cement that you were his to cherish.

His hand shifted across your ass and down to the gusset of your panties. Your hips jumped when his thumb ran a smooth line down to your clothed clit.

“Daddy…”

Though you understood his teasing, it didn’t mean you were never impatient in the wake of it.

Leon gently hushed you, “Want to take my time with you for a little longer. Just be patient for me.”

You breathed in quiet pants as his light touches continued. He pulled the damp cotton down your thighs, smoothing your puffed tail as it threaded through the makeshift hole in the fabric.

His hand again found its place between your legs. You jerked under his touch as his thumb ran along soaked skin. Before you could fully sink into the feeling, it seemed to leave almost as soon as it arrived.

You turned back to protest, but all impatient remarks caught in your throat when you caught his eye over your shoulder. Leon mirrored your earlier actions, albeit much less messily, savoring what your body left on the pad of his thumb.

Noticing your reaction, his eyes creased at the edges. “You made it look so good, thought I needed a reminder.” His free hand revealed more of your face from under your mussed locks, “But that can come later, right?”

He shifted back, deft fingers quickly undoing the clasps of his well-worn belt and deep blue jeans. A low sigh escaped him as he freed his cock. Precum beaded at the flushed tip, belying the composure he’d shown thus far.

You reached for Leon’s hand in a silent plea, and he quickly tangled your fingers in understanding.

A high moan rushed from your throat as he slowly guided himself into your welcoming heat. The feeling of him was not new, but it was nevertheless overwhelming. Your mind was awash with him. The dull burning stretch of your muscles, the warmth of his hands on your sides, and the timbre of Leon’s voice all swam in your muddled mind and culminated in slurred gratitude.

Daddy—thank you, thank you, thank you…!

“Shh, don’t gotta thank me, sweetheart,” he whispered, “Relax. Let me take care of you.”

You hiccuped a relieved sob at finally being filled. Your face burned—though you couldn’t dwell on your outburst. Instead, your breathing was heavy as you tried to relax around him. Wanted as it was, the insistent press of his cock was heady in your cotton-filled brain.

Leon let out a low moan as your body greedily took him in. In spite of your shared desperation, he kept his pace slow and his touch gentle. His hand squeezed yours in reassurance, and he quietly called your name. “Talk to me,” he coaxed, voice rough in his throat.

You nodded earnestly, one side of your face against the bedsheets, “I’m okay…” your voice trembled, “Sorry.”

He chuckled, “It’s alright. Don’t want to hurt you, that's all.”

“You won’t,” you grinded against him as you deepened the arch of your back, goading Leon further, “I can take it, Daddy. Please?”

“Fuck…” Leon hissed, his hips involuntarily following yours. He pressed your intertwined hands into the mattress, “I can never say no to you, can I?”

Your voice was lost in your throat, and the rhetorical question was simply met with pleased mewls as he finally moved. Obscene wet noises resounded from where your bodies were joined. The sound mingled with your voices in an unorthodox symphony.

Leon’s hand untangled from yours, moving to firmly grasp your hip. With it, he guided your body onto his, thrusts heavy as he fell into rhythm. His eyes trailed down the glistening line of your spine to where the two of you were connected. Your cunt wrapped tightly around him, seemingly trying to keep his cock nestled deep inside.

“Can’t help but spoil you.” Leon’s voice was low and rough as his eyes remained on you. A white band of your arousal already began to gather at his base—another mark of explicit honesty from your tightly wound body.

Each of your cries were muffled into the mattress as he fucked you. Your pleasured babbles were almost unintelligible to Leon as you continued to hide from him.

Muscular arms gathered you close to his chest, your damp skin hot against his own. Your head lolled to the side in a meager bid for him to move higher as he placed more forceful, heated kisses along your shoulder. “You don’t need to hide, sweetheart,” he murmured, stubble now rough against you. As he spoke, one of his hands trailed down to your soaked cunt.

It easily found its mark, rubbing quick circles along your clit and further coaxing you to your climax. You bucked in his grasp at the added stimulation. Your hands clutched his forearms as they searched for an anchor. You were certain his grip was the only thing keeping you kneeling on your shaking legs.

Your words were interspersed with whines and moans as he continued to move inside of you, “‘M sorry, Daddy—just feels so good.”

You could feel his smile at your words. “It’s alright,” he breathed, “Just let go for me.” His other hand found its way to your breast, cradling it in his palm. He let his thumb trace circles across its peak, his movements gentle yet purposeful.

Your voice continued to fill the room in tandem with the sound of your bodies moving together. Each of Leon’s touches had you barreling toward your peak.

Your tail trembled against Leon’s chest, and you whined high in your throat, the vibrations reaching Leon’s lips as he kissed your fevered skin, “Daddy, ‘m so close—please.” You weren't sure what you were asking for with your pleasure-slurred words. You just knew you didn’t want him to stop.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. He continued to rub your clit as he pressed his lips against yours in a messy kiss. His heavy breaths mingled with yours as he spoke, “Daddy’s got you. It’s okay.”

His movements became more forceful, his hips pumping into you faster than before. His encouraging whispers and forceful touches remained as you reached the edge.

A final coo from him had you tumbling to your orgasm. Your body shook in Leon’s grasp as he fucked you through it. You almost chanted his name and given title like a prayer as you crested over each wave of pleasure. Your cunt tightly squeezed around him. Leon’s resulting groan was lost in the rushing of your ears.

He continued to thrust into you, feeling his own release beginning to come soon after yours. “Oh, fuck,” he choked back a whine, his breath hot against your sweat-dampened skin.

You reached behind you, hooking your fingers into what you could of Leon’s thigh. “Please, don’t stop,” you begged—desperate for him even now, “Wan’ it inside.”

Leon’s cock throbbed at your request. The admission wasn’t new by any means, but it was no less spurring. His arms snaked closer around your waist, seeking more leverage to buck his hips upwards into yours.

“Okay, I’ll give you what you want, baby. Give it to you,” he rested a palm just under your navel, “right here. Right where it should be, hm?.”

You clenched around him again, eliciting another pleasured hiss from Leon. “Yes! Want it so bad. Wanna be full. Need to be full, Daddy,” your frantic pleas continued.

Your trimmed nails pressed small crescent moons into Leon’s skin as you clung to him. You reached between your legs, already seeking another release as Leon chased his own.

“Shh…” Leon soothed you, rubbing his hand along your side. “It's okay. I won’t stop.” He deftly replaced your hand with his own, his larger fingers rubbing quick circles against your swollen clit.

“Just a little bit longer, baby,” he whispered hoarsely. “Then I’ll fill you up. Try and make you a mommy. Would my pretty girl like that?”

Your body prickled in arousal at Leon’s words. You nodded jerkily, words slurring while you trembled in his arms, “Please, Daddy, I want that s’much. Wan’ you to get me pregnant.”

Your heats often lead down this line of talk. Leon wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but he always indulged you. He also couldn’t deny that the idea of it taking, leaving you glowing and full of him months down the line had his abdomen tight with want.

Leon held his hips flush against you as he reached his peak. He cursed lowly into your neck while his cock throbbed, filling you with each movement. The warmth spreading within you along with your owner’s goading words sent you over the edge again with him.

Your bodies fed into each other’s pleasure in a dizzying loop. Each clench of your muscles caused him to grind more harshly into your cunt, filling you further as you milked his release.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—” your words strung together as you came around him. Your tail wrapped loosely around his waist in a meager attempt to keep him in place.

He held you tightly to his broad chest, keeping his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. He kissed your fevered temple as you came down together, whispering soothing words with each press of his lips.

You clung to him with equal fervor. Mewls quietly tumbled from your mouth while Leon enveloped you.

Your bodies remained connected as your heart rates and breathing gradually slowed. After a moment, he began to unwrap his arms from your spent frame—ready to clean the two of you from the evening. Before he could, however, your hands immediately tightened their grip on him.

“Wait—don’t want any to spill out. Wanna keep it all in. Please?” Your soft feline ears were flat against your head at the thought of Leon leaving you empty. You wanted to cockwarm him—keep him and his cum as deep as possible for as long as he’d let you.

Leon shook his head and looked down at you with affectionate amusement, “Greedy…” Despite his teasing remark, he allowed himself to be pulled back.

Ensuring your bodies remained connected, Leon carefully guided you both back to your earlier position—you sat in his lap while his back rested against the headboard.

The feeling of his jeans underneath you erred on the edge of uncomfortable as the opened fly pressed into your skin. You refused to admit it to Leon, though, and instead opted to lean further into the man.

His fingers combed through your hair, taming some of the tangles. Your head tilted toward his touch, eager to be pet. He readily obliged you and you purred contentedly in his arms, heat sated—at least for the moment.

[trendywaifus]

WEEK TWO

↳ how to tame a mortal! — week one

never been dominated by two fox ladies? no? well, today’s your lucky day!

featuring, yae miko & tingyun x fem! reader

cw: face sitting, masterbation, fingering, cursing, pet names, pwp, oral fixation, slight voyerisum, cunninglius

“ my, my, what a pretty thing you are, little one.” miko purrs, grasping your jaw with her palm and lifts your head up, forcing you to exchange eye contact with her. sharp feline eyes stares down into your own with roguish intent, sending shivers down your spine. “ so pretty that i can just eat. you. up~ “ another sultry voice purrs in your ear and a warm tongue licks the shell of your ear.

“ fuck, don’t tease me, you two. “ you hold back a moan as tingyun drags her lips down your neck, nibbling and kissing at your soft skin. yae leans down towards your face, her hot breath fans against your lips. “ hah, tease? “ the youkai giggles, playfully fiddling with the obi of your kimono, “ darling, we haven’t even started yet and you’re already babbling. that naughty mouth of yours could also use a fix too. what to do with you. .hmm. “

the brunette’s arms snakes around your middle, she rests her chin on your shoulder. “ if our pretty girl here really thinks we’re teasing, why don’t we give her a show? “ tingyun suggests slyly, her tail swishing side to side. yae thinks for a moment before grinning, pearly white fangs peaking out from her grin. “ that’s not a bad idea at all, dear. perhaps we’ll make her sit there and watch us until she’s begging to be touched. “

you swallowed thickly at the mischievous tone of yae’s voice. “ that’s not—“ she presses a finger to your lips, “ nuh uh, it’s already been decided little one. think of it as part of our services to satisfy you. it’s practically entertainment, really. don’t you agree? ” tingyun nods, bringing out a red silk ribbon to restrain your wrists as she sets them behind your back. “ so be a good girl for us and enjoy the show.”she kisses your cheek before crawling over to yae who was seated in front of you.

you watch as tingyun gets pulled into a heated kiss by the older kitsune. tingyun’s tail sways excitedly as yae’s hands runs down her sides. you bit your lip, stifling back a soft whine as they undressed each other, revealing their bare perfect bodies—perfect bodies that you can’t even touch. how unfair! “ my, your fur is very soft and fluffy, sweetie. i’m almost jealous. “ yae chuckles, skimming a hand down tingyun’s tail.

“ th-thank you, miss yae, i’m honored. “ the brunette breathes, feeling herself grow wet while the pink–haired woman continues to teasingly play with her sensitive tail. “ mm! “ tingyun squirms as yae strokes her tail and kisses down her jaw. you squeezed your thighs together, poorly attempting to calm down your throbbing heat. yae nibbles at the younger foxian’s skin, careful to not damage her creamy skin. tingyun mewls, loosely wrapping her arms around the youkai’s neck.

yae trails her lips down the valley of tingyun’s breasts and decides to tease one of the harden buds. she swirls her warm tongue around it and tugs, eliciting a soft moan from tingyun. she repeats her actions a few times before pulling away with a wet pop. yae glances over at you, a mischievous grin dances across her lips. she notices the desperate expression sitting on your cute features which made her chest warm with satisfaction. “ here darling, let’s give the little one a nice close–up. position your back against me and spread your legs. “

tingyun gladly complies, and spreads her legs apart to show off her glistening pussy. you nearly drooled at the sight, watching intently as yae’s fingers spreads her soaked folds apart. “ i simply only played with your tail and touched you a little and you’re already wet. do you see this little one? watch closely.” with her middle finger, yae rubs tingyun’s clit in slow, broad motions. the brunette lets out a soft whimper, dropping her head back onto her senior’s shoulder.

“ n-not fair, “ you voiced out, (e/c) eyes glued to tingyun’s pussy, “ i-i wanna be touched that way or a-at least let me eat her out! “ yae chuckles at your words, now currently stroking tingyun’s folds, and coating her digits with her juices. “ hmm. .” she dips a finger inside her cunt, “ why not both? to think about it now, i do want that dirty mouth of yours to be put into use and i know just a way to do it. “

yae whispers into tingyun’s ear, pulling out her slick covered finger. “ oh, that sounds like a wonderful idea. i’m already eager to dive in, miss yae. “ the brunette’s emerald eyes peers at you with a predatory look. you swallowed harshly as the two women pulls away from each other and shuffles around you. one frees you from your restraints while the other quickly undresses you. you find yourself on your back with yae hovering her pussy over your face and tingyun between your parted legs.

“ before we continue, i will say that i won’t get up until i’m satisfied. as a kitsune, i have quite the stamina so don’t expect me to move after one release. “

before you can response, she drops her pussy onto your face, straddling your head with her plush thighs. “ don’t disappoint me, little one. “ yae says, rolling her hips as you stick your tongue out to lick at her folds and clit. tingyun grips your thighs, delving down to playfully blow hot air to your clit, causing you to gasp. “ and don’t forget about me, lovely. i’ll gladly make home in between your legs to satisfy my favorite human~ “ tingyun purrs.

she scissors your pussy lips open with her fingers and gives your folds several long licks. your toes curls in pleasure as her wet muscle greedily explores your pussy. “ mmph! “ a muffled moan erupts from your chest. the vibration easily goes up though yae, she grunts, firmly gripping your hair. “ ugh, come on now, use that mouth of yours or i won’t be moving an inch anytime soon. “

your arms curl around her thighs, pushing her pussy further down until your nose is nudging against her clit. your tongue circles around her dripping hole, lapping up her sweet nectar before entering inside. “ th-that’s more like it. .” yae moans beautifully, arching her back in pleasure as she continues to grind on your tongue. after several minutes, tingyun finds herself in cloud nine, eating out your pretty pussy—her tail hasn’t stop swishing the second your taste explodes on her tongue.

“ your taste might actually rival one of my favorite blends, “ tingyun mutters, reaching her hand down to push two fingers inside of her aching heat. filthy sounds of squelching and lewd moans fills the room. “ just like that, little one—mmm, that’s my good little pup. “ yae purrs, tenderly scratching her nails against your scalp. “ had i known that tongue of yours was decent, perhaps i should’ve of let you do this to our sweetie over there first. “

“ i’m not in a rush, “ tingyun continues, pulling away a bit after leaving multiple hickies on your inner thighs, “ but after you’re done, i would love to cream on our human’s tongue though. she wouldn’t mind taking care of me next, no? “ yae casts tingyun a sly smirk from over her shoulder before returning her attention back down to you. you poor thing, you look like you’re already completely out of it; eyes hazy with lust and face twisted with unadulterated pleasure and all.

“ oh, our little one wouldn’t mind one bit. “

[queerpyracy]

(has been away from home for six hours) i miss my cats

[themotherofblood]

Ruie my dear, can I get an imagine or oneshot fluff Daemon x poc Martell (or Essosi) fem! reader where they're married with kids and reader is pregnant again and for some reason Daem decides to give her a tiger as a gift, at first she's kind of confused and really surprised (like how/when/where and why of all possible gifts he chose a fucking tiger ) but the children are fascinated by the animal and in the end she ends up getting attached too. Just some good old fluff with some humor if possible please? (if that doesn't make sense, sorry is that I saw a picture of a tiger and a half of this idea and coincidentally saw that you reopened your requests, so… but feel free to ignore it and sorry for my English)

ahhh, I really wanted make a longer one but felt I should keep the fluff to the point so here’s a blurby fic

WC: 1.2k?

You had laid lounged out in the beach, your pink chiffon gown clinging to your skin in the warm summer breeze. A small white haired child sat a few feet away from you, six summers of age and the prettiest lady in all of the Known World. Her hair, the same as her father and her skin, the very olive tanned aura of your own. There was much serenity in the small family of comfort you had procured, a fiery husband who filled you to birth your firey daughter Alyssa. She sat making castles out of sand, far enough that the moat would fill with water but wouldn’t topple her creation.

“Madame, the prince had returned from Bravos,” an attendant tore you attention from your daughter, Daemon had been gone for near a week, away striking bargain or mostly threatening people with his dragon to get what he wanted. You acknowledged the servant before he took his leave, from your periphery out pours the vision of silver hair blowing against the winds as the thuds of his boots against the sand filled your ears

“Papa!” Alyssa shrieked, pulling herself up with wobbly legs and running over to Daemon. Ready to throw herself at him as he reached down to swing her body up to towards him. She giggled and shrieked some more, pressing kisses to his cheeks as she giggled at him tickling her. He smiled at where you were sat, curls in a neat braid and the curve of your swollen belly against your dress, he did that, the glow of motherhood adorning your skin so pretty, he did that.

He walked over with Alyssa in his arms to situate himself next to you, the girl once again ran of to finish her architectural masterpiece as Daemon leaned his head down to lay a peck at your belly before letting your lips, “have they been good?”

You nodded, “they simmered down a while ago, might have grown bored fighting within mama, huh?” you questioned at your belly.

“Papa look! M’ made a castle!” Alyssa said, waving her hands frantically to grab her father’s attention.

He complimented his girl, his lips curling wider. “I brought you something,” he whispered, his small finger tracing against your jaw as he kissed your lips once more before standing up. He reached down to pull you up before pulling Alyssa onto his lap as he led you inside the palace. Alyssa all through babbled about the shells she found and the baby crabs she saw. Daemon humming along, finding her stories to be valiant stories of knights, his perfect poppet with her legs hanging couldn’t help but spew every detail of her day to her father.

“What have you done?” you stopped at your tracks, the white feline that seemed of popped it’s head out a wicker basket.

“I’ve bought you a big cat,” Daemon said all nonchalant as Alyssa wiggled in his arms to be let down, “go on, help mama name it,” he told her.

“Daemon,” you hissed at him. “That is a bloody tiger,” you covered your daughter’s ear as you glared at him.

“Mind you, they are tigers,” he corrected as the other orange feline joined his brother and popped the basket over as they escaped.

“Daemon…” you sighed, feeling a nerve in your head pop as you looked the aquarium of snakes and the pit for the small alligator he had procured months before.

“Until my darling’s egg hatches, she gets whatever animal she wants,”

You hadn’t realized how serious Daemon had been about turning this palace into a humid jungle. “What does it even eat?”

“Boots apparently,” Daemon chuckled as one waddled over to him and began nibbling on the fine leather of his boot.

“We keep it?” Both Daemon and Alyssa began to give the eyes, this was a plot, being teamed up against with purple eyes pleading at you. “please mama,” she whispered, her little tongue poking out to pronounce her “l’s” as “w” this was extortion.

“Fine,” you sighed once more.

After supper that night you sat by the glowing hearth, in it laid the metal pot with Alyssa egg. You were willing to hatch with all your maternal rage, hatch you damn fire bird, “glare at it harder my love, it will bond to you instead Alyssa,” Daemon pulled you from your anger fuelled staring.

“I swear on my milk cakes Daemon, if those cats, lizards and snakes eat your precious daughter. I am not birthing you another,” you pouted as he slotted himself behind you, lifting your shift to lay his warm palm upon the babes moving within you.

“Hush, just shhh,” he hummed against your temple. “What animal do you want, I’ll get you one to be rid of this fuss,” he mused.

“I have you, isn’t that more than enough,” you chuckled, already picturing the scowl that settled behind you.

“Huh, I am a dragon, just as these beauties within,” he poked at your middle.

“I was thinking more of a cute white sheep,” you giggled once more.

“Oh? Sheep is it,” his brows shot up as he turned your body to lay under him as he held his weight up by his elbow next to you head. “Would a sheep make you swell so full, hmm.”

The piercing gaze of his eyes made you wriggle underneath him as you shook your head.

“Make your breasts-“ Daemon’s salacious deeds would have continued had you not heard a very faint crack, you both stared at the egg for moment before Daemon shook his head and resumed pressing kissed down your neck.

Another faint crack,

“Gods Daemon!” you whispered in shook as you furiously tapped his shoulder, the top of the egg cracked open. Both of you froze in your compromising position before Daemon shuffled of you and rushed for the door.

You wanted to peak inside, yet you knew to give the little things it’s time to realize what was happening. Daemon returned with a groggy Alyssa with her head buried in his shoulder. “Darling look,” he shook her, patting her back to wake her up just enough to see what she was to become.

The egg rattled as a wing popped out, one of red membranes and purple scales, then popped out it’s tiny head. Alyssa, though usually a loud child, silently watched as her new friend crawled away from the egg pot.

Alyssa lifted her baby finger, apprehensively hiding her face in Daemon’s chest as the baby dragon grazed her skin. She flinched away only to turn to you with the widest smile you had ever seen. “Name it,” you whispered.

“Dragon!” She excitedly whispered making Daemon and you chuckle. “Yes zaldrititos, but you cannot name a dragon, Dragon,” Alyssa’s smile downturned as she looked to her father. You could tell she was thinking hard, reaching within her small vocabulary to find a name.

“Crocus,” she looked to her father for approval, you shook your head. After all, something of yours influenced her as she named the dragon a flower from your hand grown gardens.

“Crocus,” he agreed.

Alyssa sat upon the rug with the baby dragon climbing in her shoulder as Daemon returned to sit next you, the scene unfolding in front of you, so intimate and sweet you hadn’t realized your eyes were wet until Daemon wiped at them.

“Daemon,” you sniffled, he hummed as a reply.

“You bring another animal into the house, you sleep on the floor,”

[lou-struck]

They Said No... Part 2

Obey Me! x MC!

Featuring: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Part 1 HERE

Part 3 HERE

~We all get asked to do things sometimes that we do not want to do. And it's okay to say no, but sometimes you need a little extra help to get the point across.

Warnings: Pushy Demons, talk of pact control, Threats, Betrayal

Satan:

The Avatar of Wrath has a bit of cat fur on his usually pristine uniform but has never been happier, RAD is hosting an animal adoption event, and he has spent most of his morning with the adoptable cats having the time of his life. The only thing he is missing is you.

You would love every minute of the event, and so Satan has made it his mission of the day to find you and bring you to the feline-filled classroom.

Stepping into the nearly empty corridor, he sees you sitting on one of the ancient stone benches, mindlessly scrolling through your DDD with one hand and toying with a button on your uniform with the other.

"Mc, there you are." a voice interjects before he can even open his mouth; you lift your head and look towards the owner of the shrill and unfamiliar voice. A Demon Satan doesn't care enough to recognize steps towards you. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Oh, hi." You don't meet their gaze, opting instead to stare at the ground in a way that tells Satan you would rather be anywhere else than talking to them. It irks him greatly, but he can't just interrupt yet.

"The brothers aren't here, so you can speak freely now. Did you see my messages?" they ask, taking another step towards you. "You know I've liked you for a while now, but I don't understand why you won't go out with me."

You look up at them apologetically but take a step further away from your not-so-secret admirer. "I'm so sorry, but my feelings are not the same; I've told you before that I am not interested, so can you please leave me alone.

"NO," the lesser Demons shouts, "you don't understand. I like you, which means you are Mine."

That is all Satan needs to hear, and his legs move forward on their own. His anger at this lesser Demon threatens to bubble to the surface as he approaches. Stepping between the two of you protectively.  

The Demon flinches but doesn't back down entirely. They open their pathetic little mouth to babble out some delusional retort, only to have their words die on their tongue.

"MC said they were not interested in the likes of you," he growls, his emerald eyes aglow as he stares down your harasser. "I suggest you leave before you manage to make me even angrier than you already have."

The Demon leaves satisfyingly quickly, leaving Satan with you. He notices that you look a bit shaken up but utterly relieved to be rid of that Demon. The wrath he felt earlier disappears as you throw yourself into the safety of his embrace. 

The cat can wait, but for now, he just needs to make sure you are okay.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus is feeling particularly radiant today; the only thing that he thinks he can attribute this glow to other than the universe recognizing his beauty is that his elation to be going on this special little outing with you is showing for all the Devildom to see. 

How lucky are they?

He feels light on his feet as he walks down the cobbled streets of Majolish to the little bistro you promised to meet him at for your Devilgrammable date.

His Peach-colored gaze scans the plaza until it finds you sitting at one of the adorably small tables on the patio, your figure clad in the sweater he bought for you a few weeks ago. You just look so cute. He feels his heart flutter in a way that doesn't quite fit the Lust for which he has been known.

But you are not alone; standing over you is a demon he has seen you frequently talking to at RAD.

A friend of yours? 

Maybe?

But something feels off about the way you are looking up at them as if they are making you uncomfortable. As pretty and kind as you are, Asmo knows that you are trying very hard to keep your emotions undetectable. He has to know why.

Focusing on your conversation, he is able to hear what the other Demon is trying to talk to you about.

"Mc, y-you said we were f-friends," they whine in an exasperated voice. "Why won't y-you help me?" large tear drops run down their pearl-colored skin and onto the pavement below. 

"What you are asking me to do is wrong," you say calmly. "I would never do that to Asmo or anyone else for that matter."

"All you have to do is tell Lord Asmodeus to love me as I love him." they huff. "But you wouldn't even do that for me. I love him, and I deserve to have him for my own."

"I wouldn't be telling him you want me to order him to do it," you say. "I don't think I can be friends with you anymore."

The Demon waves your words off as if they were nothing of consequence, an action that makes Asmo narrow his eyes as he starts to approach. "I never wanted to be friends with some ugly human in the first place, I only wanted Asmodeus, and you were a means to an end. But it seems that you just want to keep all the Brothers for yourself."

"Even if Mc did want to keep us for themselves, they deserve to," Asmo interjects at last, hugging you from behind and placing his head on your shoulder. "I mean, just look at them; they are soooo cute."

The earlier cruelty that had been on the Pearl demon's face vanished in an instant as their cheeks flushed heavily. "L-lord Asmodeus," they breathe. "I didn't mean it like that; the two of us were just having a bit of a friendly disagreement, that's all."

All of the annoyance and irritation that Asmo had been feeling comes forward, and he exudes a threatening aura as he stares down the Demon, not caring enough to charm them into submission. "Yeah, no, I heard more than enough to know that you need to stay away from Mc." he sighs, lowering his voice enough to send a shiver down the other Demon's spine, and they rush away.

Now alone, Asmo turns his attention to you and smiles brightly as if nothing had happened. "Sorry I'm late, Hon; let's go and order our drinks; I think after that, we both need a little extra love."

Beelzebub:

Beel feels like he's going to die of hunger. Whenever RAD does schoolwide exams, he is not allowed to eat in the classroom. It seems like ages since he has last eaten. The test took him a lot longer than he thought it would take. But before he leaves to go to Hell's kitchen, he wants to find you and bring you along with him. He doesn't quite understand why, but food always tastes better when you are with him.

He hears your voice from down the hall, a happy smile resting on his face as he follows the sound. He says you sat at one of the long study tables in the common room, a mountain of books at your side, and one of your classmates standing over you.

"I'm sorry," you say softly. "But I told you before. But I have too much on my plate right now. You'll have to do that part of the assignment yourself. " 

Your classmate sighs, shaking their head in disapproval. "And I thought you were a nice MC, the kind of human who wouldn't hesitate to help out someone who needs it. You obviously don't have anything better to do, so just do my portion of the project. I'll pay you for your work."

What? 

Why is this Demon being so mean to you? 

Beelzebub truly doesn't understand why your classmate is treating you this way; you were very nice in turning them down. And he wouldn't want to do someone's project, either.

You clear your throat, "It's not about the Grimm; I just don't have time to do someone else's work. If you're struggling, I suggest you ask a professor to give you an extension." 

Your classmate is hovering over you now, trying to intimidate you with their size. "You don't seem to know your place, Human; when a demon asks you to do something, I expect you to bow your head and do it obediently."

The Scene before him is too much for poor Beel; angrily, he steps forward, placing a large hand on the other Demon's shoulder. "That's close enough, Mc said they did not want to do anything for you."

The Demon flinches as he turns towards Beel in shock. "B-Beelzebub, I'm sorry, but I needed to remind this human that we demons are superior.

Beel's hunger and anger have fused into one, and he looks down at the Demon with disdain. "Mc is and always will be more important than you; if anything, you should be doing their work."

"no, they don't; I just need them to do their own work." You interject

"R-right, thank you." They mutter, picking their bag off the floor and running away.

"Are you alright, Mc?" he asks, looking at you with a violet gaze of adoration. "That must've been pretty scary."

You nod and take his hand, "I'm okay now, Beel, thank you for stepping in. Can I buy you lunch as a thank you?"

"Could we go to Hell's Kitchen?"

"Absolutely," you smile, "anything for my hero."

Hero? He likes the sound of that for some reason; he smiles happily, picking up your books as the two of you walk side by side out the doors of RAD.

Belphegor:

It's the stiffness in his neck that wakes Belpheghor from his nap. Maybe taking a nap on top of all of these decorative pillows wasn't that good of an idea after all. He sits up slowly, rubbing out the knot in his neck, feeling quite annoyed at the situation.

"Oh Belphie, you're awake." you smile, poking your head into the doorway, "I just placed an order for food. It should be here soon if you're hungry."

Just like that, all of his annoyance has vanished. "Thank you, Mc." he grins boyishly; moments like these make him happy to be awake. 

"No problem, I think they are getting close; I'll wait by the door until it arrives," you say before disappearing down the hallway. 

It's then he realizes that you probably had to order a lot of food since Beel is getting home from the gym soon and will need help carrying it all to the dining room once it gets here.

Belphie gets up from his seat and heads over to the front door where you must be waiting.

"You sure ordered a lot of food. Do you need any help bringing it in?" a voice asks. The delivery driver must be here already. 

"Yeah, I guess I did go overboard," you say good-humoredly. "But It will all get eaten, I promise you that."

"You're pretty cute, aren't ya?" The delivery man cooed, pulling back the bag playfully. "How about you give me your number, and then you get your food?"

You laugh nervously at his words. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

"and why not?" They laugh cockily. "Are you feeling a little shy? Because that's cute too."

Belphie's jaw clenches as he wonders what is with this guy. How dare he try and take you away from him.

"I'm taken," you respond, the irritation slipping through your voice as you meet his gaze.

They scoff, tossing the bag of food on the ground roughly. "Aren't you just a fricken tease then? All I ask for is your number, so how about you be a good human and give it to me?"

Belphegor knows you could have handled this guy, but he was honestly so irritated he had to step in. "Ugh, you're so annoying. Mc already paid, so you can go on your way."

Your harasser is arrogant, not stupid. He knows that he has no chance against one of the seven avatars of sin. He shuts his annoying mouth and stomps down the steps of the House of Lamination.

You watch him leave with a relieved smile on your face, "are you okay, Mc?" he asks, grabbing your hand.

"I am now," you smile "Thank you for helping me, Belphie."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Can i request follower!Narinder x follower!reader who's kind heart person? Like they always want to help other even tho they rude to them,and they forgive them eventually but Narinder cannot handle see​ing his spouse being disrespectful.

I want this to be oneshot angst/fluff pls thank you and have a nice day/night🥰

"How goes...your marriage..?"

"Hmph..hello to you too, sister." Narinder rolled his eyes as he sat by the pond with a bowl of stew, hoping for some peace and quiet.

But of course, ever since his siblings arrived into Lamb's cult and learned that he was betrothed to a mortal..he hasn't known such things.

He could tolerate Heket at the very least, since Kallamar was off flirting with gods-know-who, Leshy was on a missionary, and Shamura was reading their usual books.

"It fairs well. I sometimes find it funny.."

"Hm?"

"Shamura surely couldn't have predicted that I would become wedded to a measly mortal..let alone find myself in my vessel's cult. I was to sacrifice them and all of Lamb's followers. Yet when I ended up here..[y/n] was the first to reach out a hand and help me find my place." The black cat huffed. "When others mocked me..they defended my name day and night despite my past transgressions, willing to lookover the fact I once thought of them as nothing but a pawn in my game."

"You've..gotten soft..brother.." Heket lightly teased, earning her a scowl from him. However, something in the distance caught her eyes, and she tensed. "Go."

"What? Go away, you mean?" He blinked in confusion, taken aback by her command as he sneered. "I open my heart up to you, and you have the nerve to-?!"

"[Y/n]." She simply pointed, and he followed her gaze to the drinkhouse where you were trying to help a drunken follower stand on their own two feet.

While you could normally handle that sort of thing, something about it didn't sit right with Narinder. They were acting rather belligerent, babbling nonsense and causing a barrel to topple over, all while refusing to surrender their empty glass.

Only then he remember you were the bartender for today and were trying to close up shop.

He got up, deciding to let Heket finish his stew, and began walking over. His footsteps were silent as to not draw attention to himself.

He wanted to observe how you'd handle the situation.

"Please, go rest." You gently tried to urge the inebriated follower. "You've had enough."

"Don't touch meeeeeee...I ain't-" A hiccup interrupted them as their face became redder, words so slurred you could hardly understand them. "I ain't gonna..go anywherrre.."

"I'm afraid you must, I'm sorry-"

"Nooooo...I don't wanna be handled by some...idiot who slept with the One Who Waits!"

You froze. "Pardon?"

"Whatdya see in that guy anyway? He haaaates us all..he was..gonna kill us, right? And Lamby, too?" They grumbled, now sounding completely serious and irate. "Why don't you wanna be with Lamby? Or me? Or someone who isn't a monster...do ya hate us, too?"

"No, I don't hate anyone." You tried to reassure them. "But it's rude to speak of Narinder that way."

"But his stupid siblings..they...they hurt us so much because of him!" Tears began filling their eyes, their expression growing angrier. "Why did they have to come? What they did to us...was 'cuz of HIM! EVERYTHING is his fault!!!"

"I hear your pain, my friend. I really do. But Lamb believed-"

"WHAT ABOUT WHAT I BELIEVE?!" They raised their empty glass in a threatening manner, and you flinched, taking your hands off their robe in preparation for an attack.

But before anything could happen-

A black paw grabbed their wrist, claws digging into their flesh. Not enough to draw blood, but just enough to make it hurt and divert their attention to a certain angry feline.

"How irritating.." A trio of red eyes pierced through Narinder's veil as he scowled down at the follower. "I don't know whether you're more annoying now or when you're sober. You may scorn Lamb to your heart's content..but to threaten my spouse is a line you'll regret ever crossing. Now go lie down before I make you."

With a nod and a quiet whimper, they shakily set the glass down on the counter. And the moment he let their wrist go, they took off stumbling all the way to their shelter.

You frowned a little. "Darling, it's my job to lead them to-"

"They'll find their own way. Whatever they break can be fixed in no time." Narinder dismissed as he went to clean off the glass, while you plugged up the beer kegs for the night.

But as he rubbed and twisted the rag, he began thinking about what might've happened had he not intervened when he did..and it only made him angrier.

What if the glass was still full and they decided to spill it?

What if they threw it at your head?

What if they left tiny shards in your flesh and caused blood to pour down your face?

What if-?

*crack*

A sudden sharp pain in his paw pad made him wince slightly, realizing that the cup broke apart, a piece of glass now embedded in his own flesh.

Great.

"Oh no, let me take care of that for you, love."

He perked up at your voice, seeing you pull out a pair of tweezers and a roll of bandages from your robe pocket. "I can do it myself, you know."

"And risk getting more blood on the counter?" You pointed out the red splatters on the oak. "Heavens no."

Narinder chuffed, eventually turning his paw over and allowing you to tend to his injury. "Why do you allow them to speak to you that way? And being drunk is no excuse. They knew damn well what they were saying. They've disproved of our relationship from the start."

"So have plenty of others, including your own siblings, Nari. They'll come around eventually. I have all the faith in them."

"[Y/n]..they almost smashed a glass over your head. And I stopped them from doing so." He growled, frustrated at your lack of outrage. "You are content in letting such disrespect continue without punishment? Without consulting Lamb? If we cannot do anything about it, surely they can."

"I will let it go this one time. But only because I believe they won't do it again. I think they learned their lesson thanks to you." You simply reassured him, before you finished wrapping the gauze around his paw.

With a smile, you brought it up to your lips and kissed it, eyes flickering up to him. "You needn't worry, my darling. I am okay."

"...I'm not worrying about anything." Narinder scoffed, having difficulty hiding the blush beneath his fur. "I simply refuse to tolerate imbeciles who make obscene assumptions about us, thinking there'd be no repercussions."

"Of course, but in any case..thank you for coming to my defense."

"Hm.."

"Now come." You gently tugged him away from the drinkhouse, looping your arm around his. "I believe we have some farming plots to attend to. I promised Lamb I'd work on them in Leshy's steed, but what say...you pick out the seeds you wish to plant this time?"

Narinder's ears perked. "Hah. I thought you were about to tell me to gather fertilizer." He chuckled quietly. "You are too good to me sometimes."

"Well, I figured you could use a break. Come, come!"

And so he followed you to the farming area. While he could sense Heket still staring at him, knowing her grin was smug as ever, he didn't care about what she was thinking--or what anybody in the cult was thinking for that matter.

All that he cared about right now was vegetation would prosper best on this warm spring day.

[thatdammchickennugget]

Finding Home

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - remus finds solace for himself and little harry in the warm embrace of a quaint supermarket and its resident cat. as they navigate grief and newfound friendship with the store's owner, their bond deepens amidst the aisles, offering a glimmer of hope and the possibility of love

warnings - mention of death, grief, harry lives with remus instead of the dursleys, muggle!reader

wordcount - 5k

a/n - I made myself sad thinking about this, oops.

The small bell above the door tinkled softly as Remus stepped into the quaint little supermarket, cradling little Harry in his arms. The toddler's cries pierced the stillness of the shop, echoing off the shelves stacked with goods.

Remus scanned the familiar aisles, his tired eyes searching for the one thing that seemed to soothe Harry like nothing else could - the resident feline, a sleek brown cat named Chocolate Chip. The mere sight of her often had a miraculous effect on the inconsolable child.

Remus had noticed Harry’s amazement with the animal the third time he had taken him here. No other cat seemed to have that effect on him, most of the cats passing by their backyard went completely ignored, but this one, for some reason, was the one sure way to calm him down when he was upset.

"Shh, Harry, we're here," Remus murmured softly, his voice gentle as he navigated through the rows of merchandise. Harry's wails seemed to escalate with each step, his tiny fists clutching at Remus's robes. 

Finally, they reached the corner where the cat usually lounged, her amber eyes glinting in the dim light. As if sensing their presence, she stretched lazily, arching her back in a graceful curve before shooting up and out of her little bed of blankets and zooming straight towards Remus’ beat up boots.

"Look, Harry," Remus whispered, his lips curling into a tired smile as the elegant creature approached, purring as she pushed herself along his legs. "It's Chip."

Harry's cries began to ebb, replaced by curious gurgles as he fixed his wide, emerald gaze towards the ground. Remus carefully lowered him down, allowing him to stumble towards the cat with clumsy, unsteady movements.

The cat regarded Harry with a calm indifference, allowing the toddler to pat her silky fur with chubby fingers. Remus watched with a mixture of relief and affection, his heart swelling at the sight of Harry's fleeting tranquility.

"Thank you, Chip," Remus murmured, reaching out to stroke the cat's fur as she purred contentedly. "You always know how to calm him down."

As Harry babbled happily, Remus couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards the owner of the store, whose kindness had become a lifeline in these turbulent times. He craned his neck over one of the shelves, trying to catch a glance of the pretty woman usually sat behind the counter.

Remus had been coming to this little store ever since he moved into the neighborhood, appreciating that most of the time, he appeared to be the only customer. The trip here was easier to stomach than the bigger bustling store in town.

The first time he had been here, the store had been manned by a gruff looking elderly man. He wasn’t big on conversations or small talk, which Remus welcomed with open arms. A couple weeks ago however, he was surprised to step in and be greeted with a cheery “hello!” and a bright smile.

He had shot the girl an awkward little smile before shuffling off to fill his basket. But when he came back to the counter, he was horrified when she started chatting as she got to work ringing his items up. She asked about his day, told him she liked his jumper and had fawned about weather outside, asking if he had any plans on a day this nice.

He had to disappoint her, as his plans had been making himself some pasta - maybe even sauce if he felt fancy - and then throw his aching body into bed to hopefully get a couple hours of sleep before he had to get up for work again.

In a probably obvious attempt to steer the unwanted conversation away from himself, he had asked where the owner of the store was. He instantly regretted the question as the pretty smile on her face faltered for a split moment. He cursed himself for being so insensitive when she told him that the man was her father and he had unfortunately passed away, leaving the store in her hands.

That day, he had left the store thinking he might never show his face there again. The girl probably thought he was rude and weird, avoiding her questions and then bringing up her dead father. What a way to make a first impression.

But the next time he dared to step into the store again, she was back to her cheery self again and seemingly not put off by him in the slightest, as she kept trying to talk to him.

It eventually became a regular occurrence when he ventured inside, until it became almost routine. And he didn’t mind all that much. Sure it was uncomfortable at first, but he quickly found himself looking forward to their little chats.

The counter was empty today, and he almost jumped when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Remus turned to find you smiling down at Harry petting the cat at his feet.

“He’s having one of those days again?” you asked him, squatting down to pull a face at the child, earning a giggle as he excitedly waved in your direction.

“Sorry to bother you again,” Remus stepped a little closer to you, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Nothing else has been working lately. He won’t calm down until we come here.”

“Well, the two of you are always welcome. It’s a treat getting to see you, really.” Harry’s focus had already moved on from you again, his little hands back in the cat's fur as he pushed his cheeks into Chip’s fluffy side.

You had been insanely patient with them ever since he started bringing Harry along. It was a huge change for Remus, taking the toddler in after James and Lily’s tragic death just a little over a month ago. He had just started believing he was becoming a great uncle to Harry, but being the sole person taking care of him was a whole other thing.

And you had been a helping hand every step of the way, helping him pick out baby food, going over his list to make the house baby-proof and just generally offering an open ear and advice. But above all, you had managed to make these grim weeks feel a little lighter.

As Harry giggled and played with Chip, Remus found a brief moment of solace from the weight of his worries. Yet, beneath the surface, the gnawing concern about providing for Harry gnawed at him relentlessly.

"I... I can't thank you enough for letting us come here all the time," Remus began, his voice heavy with gratitude as he turned towards you again. "I have to admit, it's been a struggle lately. It’s just a lot. And I really appreciate everything you’ve done for us. I hope we won’t be bothering you for too much longer, though. I promise, as soon as I find someone to take him for a couple hours a day and find somewhere new to work we’ll be out of your hair."

Your heart went out to Remus as he spoke, his vulnerability laid bare before you. You could hear the desperation and exhaustion laced heavily in his words.

"I can't even begin to imagine how tough it must be," you replied, your voice soft with empathy. "But you're doing an incredible job, Remus. You're there for Harry when he needs you most, and that's no small feat."

Remus managed a weary smile, a glimmer of appreciation shining in his tired eyes.

"Thanks. That means a lot, especially coming from you."

A thoughtful silence settled between you, the weight of Remus's words hanging in the air. Gathering your courage, you broached the subject that had been weighing on your mind.

"Remus, I've been thinking..." you began, your voice tentative. "I could use some help around here, and... well, I know it's not much, but it could be a start. And you could bring Harry along, of course. We'll figure it out together."

Remus's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face. "I don't know. I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I don't want to impose on you. And Harry... I can't just leave him with anyone."

You reached out to gently grasp Remus's hand, offering him a reassuring smile. He felt his ears heat up at the touch, not expecting it at all. "Remus, you're not imposing. We're friends, aren't we? Friends help each other out in times of need. And as for Harry, he's always welcome here. We'll make it work, I promise."

Remus's gaze softened as he met your eyes, a sense of relief washing over him. He felt a little dumb at the way his face flushed when you said you were friends. He had been talking to you almost daily, it wasn’t that weird. But then why did it feel like such a huge thing to him?

"Okay," Remus finally relented, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "Okay, I'll do it. Thank you... thank you so much."

ੈ♡˳

The following days found Remus settling into his new role at the store, his presence becoming an integral part of the daily routine. With Harry happily playing behind the counter, Remus found himself working alongside you, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm as you tackled the tasks at hand.

As Remus stocked shelves and organized merchandise, you moved about the store with a grace that never failed to captivate him. There was a certain lightness to your step, a warmth in your smile that made the mundane tasks seem almost enjoyable. He watched in awe as you easily talked to the customers coming in, always managing to make them feel at ease and brightening up their day with your cheery attitude.

From time to time, Remus would steal glances in your direction, admiring the way you effortlessly managed the responsibilities of running the store. He couldn't help but feel a swell of pride whenever you praised his efforts, your words serving as a source of encouragement amidst his lingering doubts.

He was especially nervous the first time he had to miss work due to the full moon, being aware of your worried glances during the days leading up to it as he seemingly showed up to work more exhausted and pained every day. 

You surprised him by not only telling him to take as much time as he needed, but also insisting on taking Harry off his hands for the night. You were a godsend, really, and he couldn’t ever return the abundance of favors he owed you by now. But you just waved off his thanks, muttering about how lonely it was up in your apartment above the store all by yourself and how a sleepover with little Harry was just what you needed.

In between moments of work, there were snippets of laughter and playful banter, the air filled with a sense of camaraderie that seemed to deepen with each passing day. Remus found himself sharing stories and anecdotes with you, his laughter mingling with yours as you exchanged tales of past adventures, coming dangerously close to revealing secrets he couldn’t let slip.

You had a talent for getting him to open up, having him eagerly talk about his days at school. He had to thread carefully as he talked about his time with his friends at Hogwarts, the threat of saying something wrong always around the corner.

One afternoon, as you and Remus took a brief break from your tasks, Harry toddled over to join you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. With a mischievous grin, he reached out to grab a handful of colorful candies from a nearby display, his giggles filling the air as he proudly displayed his spoils.

You and Remus exchanged amused glances, unable to suppress your laughter at Harry's antics. It was moments like these, simple and carefree, that reminded Remus of the joy that could still be found amidst the chaos of their lives.

As the day drew to a close and the last of the customers filed out of the store, Remus found himself lost in thought, the events of the day playing over in his mind. There was a warmth in his chest, a sense of contentment that he hadn't felt in a long time.

And as he glanced in your direction, watching as you carefully closed up shop for the night, Remus couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, there was something more between you than mere friendship. But he shook that thought away quickly. 

He couldn't afford to entertain such notions, not when his primary focus was on providing for Harry and even if Harry wasn’t in the picture, he just couldn’t. Not only was he keeping secrets and miles below your league, he was also a werewolf for gods sake! He couldn’t put that on you. He couldn’t live with himself if he ever ended up hurting you.

Besides, he reasoned, it was likely just wishful thinking on his part, a product of the comfort and familiarity that had developed between them. There was no way you actually returned his affections.

Yet, despite his attempts to push aside those lingering thoughts, Remus couldn't help but find himself drawn to you in ways he couldn't quite explain. There was a warmth in your presence, a kindness that touched him deeply and made him long for more than just friendship.

As the days turned into weeks, Remus found himself growing more attuned to your moods, more aware of the subtle shifts in your demeanor. So when he walked into the store one morning and found you sitting behind the counter, a faint smile playing at your lips but a heaviness in your eyes, he knew something was amiss.

"Morning," Remus greeted softly as he approached, Harry cradled in his arms. The toddler waved eagerly at you, his face lighting up with excitement as he caught sight of Chip lounging nearby.

"Hey," you replied, your voice tinged with weariness as you glanced up at Remus. "How was your night?"

Remus hesitated, sensing the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. "It was... fine," he said carefully, shifting Harry in his arms. "Yours?"

You offered him a small, forced smile, but Remus could see through the facade. "Just another night," you replied vaguely, averting your gaze. "Nothing special."

Remus frowned, a pang of concern tightening in his chest. He knew better than to push, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was troubling you.

"Is everything okay?" he asked gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on your arm. The contact sent a jolt of warmth through him, and he couldn't help but notice the way your breath caught at the touch.

You hesitated, your gaze flickering back to meet his. "It's just... one of those days, you know?" you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him."

Remus's heart clenched at the mention of your father, the sorrow in your eyes mirroring the ache in his own chest. He knew all too well the pain of losing someone you loved, the emptiness that lingered long after they were gone.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice thick with sympathy. "I know it's not much, but... if you ever need to talk, I'm here. I understand more than you know."

You offered him a grateful smile, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, Remus," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "That means more to me than you'll ever know."

In that moment, as you sat together in the quiet solitude of the store, Remus felt a bond forming between you, a connection that transcended words. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew with a certainty that he couldn't ignore: he was falling for you, more deeply and irrevocably than he ever thought possible.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on offering you the comfort and support you so desperately needed. And as he held you in his arms, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope stirring within him, a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between you after all.

The morning passed in a subdued atmosphere, with Remus keeping a watchful eye on you, offering gentle words of encouragement whenever he could. Despite the weight of grief that hung heavy in the air, there was a quiet comfort in the shared understanding between you, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you both carried in your hearts.

As the day wore on, Remus found himself drawn to your side more and more, seeking solace in your presence as much as he offered it. There was a sense of companionship that blossomed between you, a shared bond forged through the trials of loss and sorrow.

And as the final rays of sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows across the shop floor, Remus knew that he had found something precious in you, something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of his life.

As you closed up shop for the night, Remus lingered by your side, reluctant to let the moment slip away. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice tinged with emotion. "For everything."

You offered him a weary smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently. "Anytime, Remus," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "Anytime."

And as you bid each other goodnight, Remus felt a flicker of hope stir within him, a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for happiness in the midst of their shared grief. And as he stepped out into the cool night air, cradling Harry in his arms, he knew that no matter what the future held, he would always be grateful for the light you brought into his life.

ੈ♡˳

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet streets, Remus found himself pacing anxiously, his heart hammering in his chest. Little Harry lay in his bed, his feverish breaths the only sound echoing through the dimly lit room.

Remus had called you in a panic earlier, his voice trembling with worry as he described Harry's symptoms. You had instantly reassured him, promising to come over right away to help. And true to your word, you had closed up shop early and rushed to his side without a moment's hesitation.

Now, as Remus waited for you to arrive, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for your unwavering support. Ever since James and Lily's death, you had been a constant source of comfort and solace, always there to lend a helping hand whenever he needed it most.

But as much as Remus appreciated your kindness, he couldn't shake the nervous fluttering in his stomach as he waited for you to arrive. He had never been one to let people into his home, always preferring to keep his distance and maintain a sense of privacy.

And so, he had spent the past half hour frantically tidying up his small home, trying to make it look presentable for your arrival. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Just as Remus was about to give in to his rising panic, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching his door. With a shaky breath, he hurried over to greet you, his heart pounding in his chest.

As you stepped inside, a look of concern etched across your face, Remus felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thank you for coming," he murmured gratefully, stepping aside to let you inside.

You offered him a reassuring smile, your eyes flickering over his tense features. "Of course, Remus," you replied gently, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "How's Harry doing?"

Remus's gaze drifted towards the bedroom door, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. "He's not doing well," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "His fever's been getting worse, and he won't stop crying. I don't know what to do."

You nodded in understanding, your expression softening with sympathy. "Let's go check on him," you suggested gently, guiding Remus towards the bedroom. "Maybe I can help."

Together, you entered the room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light across Harry's flushed cheeks. Remus hovered anxiously by your side as you checked on the sleeping toddler, your experienced hands gentle as you felt his forehead and took his temperature.

"He's definitely running a fever," you confirmed softly, your brow furrowing with concern. "But it doesn't seem too high. We'll keep an eye on it and make sure he stays hydrated. He should start feeling better soon, but if it keeps going up we should take him to the hospital."

Remus let out a shaky breath, a sense of relief flooding through him at your words. "Thank you," he murmured gratefully, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don't know what I would do without you."

You offered him a comforting smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand gently. "You don't have to thank me, Remus," you replied softly. "We're in this together, remember?"

As the evening wore on, Remus busied himself in the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of pots and pans filling the air as he prepared dinner for the two of you. The savory aroma of herbs and spices wafted through the small apartment, mingling with the soft glow of candlelight to create a warm and inviting atmosphere.

You watched from the doorway, a soft smile playing at your lips as you admired Remus's culinary skills. Despite his initial nerves, he moved with a sense of purpose and confidence, his hands deftly chopping vegetables and stirring pots with practiced ease.

"You're quite the chef," you remarked with a chuckle, stepping into the kitchen to lend a hand. Remus glanced up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

"I've had plenty of practice," he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Lily used to joke that other than her I was the only one of us who could boil water without burning down the kitchen."

You chuckled at the memory, the sound warm and melodic in the quiet room. "They sound like wonderful people," you commented softly, a hint of sadness creeping into your voice.

Remus's smile faltered slightly, his gaze drifting towards the stove as he stirred the simmering pot of soup. "They were," he replied quietly, his tone tinged with a mixture of fondness and sorrow. "They were the best friends anyone could ask for."

You reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder, offering him a wordless gesture of comfort. Remus leaned into the touch, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and longing.

"They would have loved you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "They would have been so grateful for everything you've done for Harry and me."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, a swell of emotion rising within you. "I wish I could have met them," you admitted, your voice thick with unshed tears. "They sound like incredible people."

Remus nodded in agreement, his gaze turning towards the window as he fought to contain his emotions. "They were," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames. "They were my family, my home. And losing them... it was like losing a part of myself."

You reached out to gently take his hand in yours, offering him a silent gesture of solidarity. Remus squeezed your hand tightly, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"But you've been there for us," he continued softly, his voice choked with emotion. "You've been our rock, our guiding light in the darkness. And I can't thank you enough for that."

You offered him a watery smile, the warmth of his hand in yours filling you with a sense of comfort and belonging. "You don't have to thank me, Remus," you replied gently. "I care about you and Harry more than you'll ever know. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Remus's eyes met yours, a flicker of gratitude shining in their depths. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for being you."

And as the two of you sat down to eat, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows across the room, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of Remus's presence, you knew that no matter what the future held, you would always be grateful for the bond you shared, for the love and support that had brought you together. And as you reached out to take his hand in yours, you knew that together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead

ੈ♡˳

The soft jingle of bells echoed through the air as you put the finishing touches on the holiday decorations adorning the walls of the store. Harry toddled around you, his chubby fingers reaching out to touch the colorful ornaments hanging from the branches of the Christmas tree, his laughter filling the air with joy.

"You're doing a great job, Harry," you praised, your heart swelling with affection as you watched the toddler's eyes light up with excitement. "You're the best little helper anyone could ask for."

Harry beamed up at you, his dimpled cheeks flushed with pride as he continued to explore the wonders of the holiday season. It had been weeks since you had extended your invitation to Remus to work at the store, and in that time, the three of you had settled into a comfortable routine, filled with laughter and warmth.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the last of the customers filed out of the store, you found yourself lost in the magic of the season, the twinkling lights and festive decorations filling you with a sense of joy and wonder. You hummed along to the cheerful Christmas carols playing softly in the background, your heart light with the spirit of the holidays.

"Looks like we're all set for Christmas," you remarked with a satisfied smile, surveying your handiwork with pride. Harry clapped his hands excitedly, his eyes shining with delight as he admired the twinkling lights and colorful baubles.

"Christmas!" he exclaimed, his tiny voice filled with excitement. "Santa!"

You chuckled at his enthusiasm, ruffling his hair affectionately. "That's right, Harry," you replied with a grin. "Santa will be here before you know it."

As you turned to lock up the store for the night, you felt a warm hand on your shoulder, causing you to turn and meet Remus's gaze. He smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with affection.

"You've really outdone yourself with the decorations," he commented, his voice soft with admiration. "It looks beautiful in here."

You returned his smile, feeling a surge of happiness swell within you. "Thanks, Remus," you replied, your heart fluttering at the warmth in his gaze. "I wanted to make sure it felt like home for the holidays."

As you exchanged smiles with Remus, a playful voice interrupted the moment. Harry, who had still been toddling around the store, suddenly stopped in his tracks and pointed excitedly at the sprig of mistletoe hanging above the doorway.

"Kiss, kiss!" he exclaimed with glee, his little face beaming as he clapped his hands.

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, realizing that both you and Remus were standing directly under the mistletoe. You exchanged a nervous glance with Remus, both of you unsure of what to do next.

Remus's cheeks tinged pink as he glanced up at the sprig, then back at you. "Well, it seems Harry's quite the advocate for tradition," he remarked with a nervous chuckle. “I wonder who he gets that from.”

You couldn't help but laugh at the situation, knowing damn well that you had been the one quietly squealing in excitement every time customers got caught underneath the plant and had to share a kiss. But you couldn’t help and share Harry’s excitement, feeling a mixture of amusement and nervousness. "Indeed he is," you replied, your heart racing in your chest.

Harry continued to clap and giggle, his excitement infectious as he urged you both to kiss. Remus hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you with uncertainty.

But then, with a shy smile, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Remus's in a sweet and tender kiss. It was brief, just a fleeting moment of connection, but it sent a thrill coursing through both of you.

As you pulled away, you found yourself lost in Remus's warm gaze, a rush of emotions swirling within you. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing beneath the mistletoe.

"Wow," Remus murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "That was..."

"Unexpected," you finished for him, a shy smile playing at your lips.

Remus nodded, his cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "Yes, unexpected," he agreed, his gaze flickering with uncertainty.

But then, as you stood there together in the quiet stillness of the store, a sense of warmth washed over you. Despite the awkwardness of the moment, there was a spark of something more between you, something that left you both feeling breathless and alive.

As Harry continued to babble excitedly, you and Remus exchanged a meaningful glance, a silent understanding passing between you. And in that moment, you both knew that something special had begun to blossom between you, something that had the potential to change everything.

But for now, you simply smiled at each other, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. And as you locked up the store for the night and headed to his home to cook dinner together, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future might hold.

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cw : y/n is kinda freaky in this idk (I snorted), guess who's our roommate important, fat shaming a cat, huge cat alert, mega pussy(cat), jeno big schlong core, desperate jeno (but only for a second), just a simple blowjob and his cum tastes like WHAT?!

side note: I took long asl writing this because I'm so used to writing for wayv like the 2 day gap between the haechan fic and hendery fic compared to the 13 day gap between this fic and the hendery fic makes me SICK.

extra note: I've never written for jeno before either.

apart of the nct corny plots series!

why were you so excited for a fuckass plumber?

you had a bigger problem anyway. under your sink, it smelt like fucking mold and water.

man fuck this.

your roommate, jungwoo was barely home.. you asked him if he knew anything about pipes and he only sent a dog emoji.

there was a familiar brushing in between your feet, you looked down at your fatass white cat, nella rubbing against your ankles. jungwoo thought that it'll be funny to make her rhyme with nutella because her old owner said that supposedly.. she ate jars of it.

picking her up, you think you tore your acl but once you met eyes with her; you felt kinda bad. isn't that basically neglecting..? but whatever, she's fine now.

nella's head nudged against your flat hand against the counter, you obligated unconsciously to petting her whilst spacing out on a random hummingbird perched on a fence.

“nella, do you think I'm weird?” you asked the unaware feline, she only licked your palm with a sequence of purrs. that was probably a yes. you sighed and fixed the navy blue edge of your short nightgown, there was then a knock at your door.

it's must've been him before nella jumped her big ass down and skedaddled to the basement. “who is it?” you called whilst heading towards the door, trying to identify the warpy figure through the translucent glass. “uhm, I'm here to fix your pipes” jeno, you presumed, scratched his head, you could make out his muscular figure.

you opened the door with uncertainty and the first thing you noticed was his dirty ass uniform and the smell of dirt and water bouncing off your senses. “you're jeno, right?” you said with a coy smile, trying to not look at his bulky torso by keeping unwanted eye contact. he only nodded, his shy doe eyes met yours finally.

“well, don't be shy.. come in then.” you muttered, you might've even given him a dirty look. this hefty nearly 6 foot male was so shy for what, what if he was a criminal? eligible for death row?!

not your problem, for now.

right now.. you wanted to have his kids.

you unconsciously licked your lips as he walked past, like that one italian weirdo from that weird italian movie where they fucked every 39 minutes. you know, that one? why was his ass fatter than yours?

“um, what seems to be the problem?” jeno's voice echoed from the kitchen, snapping you out of your thoughts. only yelping an “oh!”, you shuffled like a flintstone to the kitchen and found him leaning in the corner of your kitchen counters; looking at the sink and you with uncertainty.

“oh well,” you clasp your hands walking over to the sink. “so basically.. urm.. uh” you side eyed him for a second before scratching your head. “it smells like mold and.. urm..” you looked at his nose again, stop looking at his nose, don't look at his lips?! why are you looking at his DICK?!

“I'll just show you.” you sighed before falling to your knees and opening the cabinet, the smell of mold almost made you shrivel into a fucking pinecone. jeno must've gotten whiff of it too because his nose scrunched in disgust and he held back a gag, but soon you'll be gagging on his– not now.

“see, but I think—” you said, slapping your hands in dismay. you crawled under the sink, looking for that bitchass rustic pipe that you glanced at earlier. “it seems like it's this one pipe–” you babbled on and on about the pipe, literally it sounded like mimimimimi. but he really focused on, your negligee raising with every subtle movement of yours; you weren't even wearing panties..

you were leaking, more than the pipes probably.

and it needed some fixing.

if you get what I'm saying hahahaha ahhahahahah oh.. never mind.

“yeah and all he does is send me–” you came from under the sink, jeno's tongue clicked. his expression was a line between curious, perplexed, maybe focused on something.

“oh.” you mumbled, he was spaced out on something and definitely didn't listen to your rant about you undependable roomie. you looked behind you to see what he was so interested in besides your rambling but you only looked at him in confusion.

“um..” you popped your lips inward before he suddenly cleared his throat. his eyes widening in a quick realization, “oh my fault..” his belt scuffled against the cabinet when he tried to adjust his now.. erection.

urmmm, let's just ignore that.

he anchored his back slightly, “there seems to be a lot of moisture–” he paused weirdly, eyeing your slick hole once you looked away. “on that one rusty pipe..” the male pointed at the anomaly. you could only nod, hands respectfully clasped together.

“so, I'mma start working on that..” he said whilst grabbing a wrench. “it only needs a replacement and I should be done..” he reassured, raising his head with a squiggly grin; his cheeks flushed.

simply, you nodded awkwardly before he continued with his work. what do you do now? you decided to situate yourself on your couch, glancing at him every once and a while. but during one of your peeping moments, there was a big white blob heading towards jeno.. wait NELLA?!

the feline brushed against his leg, jeno froze. you bit your lip in fear that he'll just storm out or what if he breaks out in hives? with a gut wrenching clang of his wrench, your fucking heart stopped. but, his hand extended towards the mass you called your beloved cat and your heart resumed but it still kept a hectic beat.

nella approached his inviting hand before she started to lick his index before grazing her teeth on his nail; about to bite him. almost breaking your ankle, twisting it, stubbing your toe, chipping a nail, almost falling over nothing, almost falling over a plant, almost falling over a chair, almost dying, you pick up nella and almost tear your fucking hamstrings.

she ended up biting your forearm instead and threw herself down the basement stairs, “oh, I'm sorry..” you carried a solemn tone whilst rubbing at the small but wide bite mark with a sigh. jeno stands to his feet, concern etched on his features as he inspects the wound.

his hand found your wrist and pulled it towards him, you winced at the rough padding of his fingers. “cats could really be unpredictable, huh?” he declared playfully as miniscule drops of blood seeped from the wound, you giggled at his comment but it wasn't fucking funny because what if you got rabies? you wished he would actually just break out into hives right now.

“I mean.. are you okay?” jeno finally looked up at you, his deep black eyes punctured into your soul.. there was some sort of romantical vibe in them.

you blunk and the room spun.

there's suddenly rose petals EVERYWHERE, the room is hot as hell, careless whisper is playing in the background and he suddenly has a comically large moustache like mario, “mi mujer, mi todo, ¿te importaría si atendiera tu herida?” his sultry gaze met your muddled face, his eyebrow raised suggestively and the buttons of his shirt popped in your face and revealed his toned torso. you seriously have no words and even I can't explain this scene as I'm typing it.

you only nodded before jeno broke out into pirouettes as he spun to the bathroom and came back with bandages twirling around and above him into a pretty pattern of curls and ended in a break out of elegant dance moves then a split.

“mi amor déjame atenderte..” he placed a chaste kiss on the lesion, it burned. he wrapped the bandage around your forearm and tore it off with a smirk.

everything was suddenly back to normal, his moustache was gone. “man what the fuck was that?!” you stumbled back and rubbed your bandaged arm in confusion, jeno's lips were parted in bewilderment. he was staring like it was your fault,

“nothing happened?” he stated sternly.

“yes, something happened! you turned into a fucking whatever the fuck!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” he retorted, crossing his arms across his torso and steadying his weight on one foot with a pop to his hip. “you know what, never mind.. is my sink fixed?” you asked with restraint frustration whilst rubbing your forehead, keeping yourself steady on the island just incase you would black out.

jeno shook his head, “I mean, I could fix it faster if you helped a bit..?” he asked shyly and smiled when you nodded, you now noticed the crinkle in his eyes when he did so.. heading over to the sink, you crawled into the small space along with him.. he handed you the flashlight.

he slid into the confined space, “just point it where my hand is, alright?” he reassured you before continuing with his handiwork. jeno's muscles flexed and strained with every twist and turn of the screws. every once in awhile his leg would nudge against your bare thigh, which you now noticed and pulled the hem of the gown down but it'll just raise up slightly above your ass once again but you're sure that jeno wouldn't notice.

but, he did. the curvature of your ass would be exposed with every subtle movement of his leg, yes he's a weirdo and he's intentionally but unintentionally brushing his knee in that same area. his boner was becoming quite visible and ample than before, his neck burned in restrainted arousal and he was probably a bright cherry red. he swore that if that bitchass dress raised even an inch more, he woul– it did.

“sorry miss, I need to g-get some tools from my truck.” jeno slid out and quickly stood on unsteady feet, you realized that his hands were weirdly set at his groin area once you looked up at him with unintended doe eyes.

uttering a quick “fuck”, he finally gave in.

jeno's hand coursed through your hair gently, his rugged hands running through the tangles. his erection now stood out like a spear like those over exaggerated brazzers videos, his hand gripped your scalp and nudged you towards his soaked tip and pulled his cargos down with the other.

“I– uh.. need you to suck me off, please..” he pleaded stupidly, his speech slurred and rasped slightly as his hand found the hem of his pants. “you're so fucking pretty, please..” he whined once his cock sprung out, you were NOT going to take that flag pole down your throat, but you gave an exception for him. both of his hands found your head, gripping and clenching to your head with urgency, jeno chuckled triumphantly once you parted your lips.

the masculine scent of his member intoxicated your senses, the tip placing a blob of precum on the tip of your nose and ran down to your lip. your tongue peaked out and licked the cream off the bump, it tasted awfully sugary?

enveloping his tip into your mouth, he grunted loudly, his gentle touch turning tense in your hair. jeno's hand guided your head up and down his lengthy member, your narrow esophagus pulsating and clenching with every hurried thrust down it. veins sprawled from his other hand to his neck whilst it gripped the island, his eyes rolling back to his skull once you managed to take him all the way to his base.

“s’ fucking good at this..” he praised in an unattractive wheeze, jaw unhinging to emit another groan. he suddenly stilled at the back of your throat, your glossy,pleading eyes looking up at him. jeno started to gyrate against your nose, your jaw and lips straining trying to accommodate to his girthy base as you held back a series of gags and chokes.

his head bumped and leaked precum against your tonsil once he resumed his shallow thrusts. “m’ so close..” jeno rasped, his balls tensing against your chin. with a final shove of your head and another gag from your end, he exploded in your mouth. why'd it taste like that? you suddenly pulled away, gasping for air at the realization.

“jeno—” you hiccuped, his aching cock bobbed, resting against your top lip; quite literally interrupting you. in your blurry peripherals, nella licked at a small droplet of his release; your stomach caved at the sight.

the sweetness of his cum made you sick, the thick substance coated your throat for what seems to feel like globs. “why does it—” you coughed and choked on air, jeno suddenly picked you up by the armpits and sat your writhing figure on the counter.

“your cum tastes like cheesecake..?”

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