#that’s the tea laid ease

[casiia]

༉‧₊˚. — simon 'GHOST' riley; his girls.

warnings .: female reader, the SMALLEST bit of angst, just a lot of overly detailed domestic simon. baby daddy simon who is still in love with you! maybe ooc. unedited cuz :p

note .: ty baby suz for reading it over!! @dr4kenz <;33

.: masterlist.

baby daddy ! simon who walks with his daughter to school for her first day, he’s has her small disney-themed backpack tugged onto his shoulder, the straps too small and digging into his skin. but he doesn’t care. his other hand is accompanied by your daughter, her small fingers looped around only his index.

she’s babbling about random things, how excited she is to make new friends, the ladybug who landed on her shoulder and gave her good luck, how she’s going to pick out new hair clips when you take her to the mall later today.

she’s jumping around — her light-up shoes blinking wildly with every exaggerated step, and simon hovers his arm close behind her in case she slips and falls.

“you don’t have to, it’s early in the morning, and i know you’re busy,” you mumble over the phone, pressing the device between your ear and shoulder. you’re cursing softly, trying to fix up your daughter’s lunch while trying not to burn her special breakfast, the blueberry pancakes that you dyed purple with food coloring, a tradition she started when she first started pre-school. since then, as good luck, she would stuff herself with the artificially colored pancakes for the first day of school.

from the other line, simon can hear all the commotion, and he’s already slipping out of his pajamas and into warmer clothes. “how ‘bout i come over and help her get ready?” his question is more of a loose remark. he’s already heading down the stairs to slip his shoes on.

you hiss loudly, your hand brushing against the hot kettle you had put on for your cup of tea. “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that.” you set your phone down and put it on speaker, sighing loudly when the flames flicker over the pan. you had burnt her pancakes and would have to make them again. “just go back to sleep.”

“i’m already on my way,” simon grunts, the cold air slapping him in the face as he steps outside and into his car. “miss that little bug,” he utters, keeping you on the phone as he begins to drive. if he’s being honest, your frantic voice eases him a bit; it reminds him that he is still needed despite your relationship. whenever things get too rough for you, there’s not a moment of hesitation when you call him, and although you deny any attempts of his help, he knows that you’re just being stubborn. 

his drive to your place is short; he’s fishing into his pocket and pulling out the spare key you gave him. a childish giggle and tiny footsteps greet him before he can fully open the door, small arms wrapping around his leg. 

“daddy!” the young girl squeals, her arms hugging his thigh tighter as she forcefully drags him through the door. simon’s lips turn up in a soft smile, and he kicks his shoes off and picks up his daughter. “hey, kid. you givin’ mama a hard time?” 

the stubble on his chin tickles her when he presses a wet kiss to her cheek, another giggle rising from her chest. simon hoists her onto his hip, holding her close as he walks into the house to find you. 

for a moment, he watches you as you continue to busy yourself in the kitchen. pajamas loosely hanging from your body, your hair pulled into a messy bun – strands slipping from the rubberband and splaying over the nape of your neck. 

 “hey, ma.” simon greets, his voice gruff and deep from just waking up moments ago. he presses his free hand to your hip and lets his lips linger on the temple of your forehead. a sweet, friendly…good morning kiss. how he always greets his girls.

“mornin’ si.” you turn in his hold, glancing up at him in acknowledgment before you flip another large pancake. “can you get her dressed? i laid out an outfit on her bed.”

the girl squirming in simon’s arms huffs, her hands reaching out and grasping onto your loose fitted shirt – simon’s old shirt he’d left behind. “i can get dressed on my own! ‘m a big girl now.” she argues with a whine, her hands being pulled off you by simon’s calloused fingers.

“big girls don’t need hot chocolate before bed,” you say, turning to give her chubby cheeks a gentle pinch. a smile painting your lips when she pulls away, turning her face and smushing it into her father’s chest.

simon nods, and although you can’t see it now that your attention is turned back to the slightly burnt pancakes in front of you, you know he’s leaving with the way his hand falls from your hip. 

you hate the way that you’re so comfortable with him around, especially with the way your relationship with him ended. originally, simon never knew that you were pregnant. you had opted out of telling him one too many times, nerves overtaking you; the idea of being a mother alone was too much. but having to tell the man who had told you time and time again he wasn’t ready for kids, that he was to be expecting one – it made you more nauseous than the baby in your stomach.

although lucky for you, he broke up with you before you could tell him. unlucky for you, his reason for doing so was unselfish; you couldn’t find it in yourself to hold any hatred towards him. with a heavy heart, he told you things weren’t working out for him, he loved you so much, but with how busy he was at work, he found less time to see you and even less time to express his adoration.

most days when you were able to see him, it consisted of just cuddling, little words spoken except for your inquiries about his future and thoughts of having kids. he always mumbled that he didn’t have time to think about that kind of stuff, and just pull you closer to his chest, nuzzling his face into your skin and dozing off to sleep.

it didn’t bother you one bit; just being with him in his arms was enough for you.you didn’t mind that your time together was spent sleeping or sharing a quiet meal. it wasn’t fair to you, none of it was fair – but simon knew you deserved better. so he reluctantly had to break things off; it was the only thing he could think of. he didn’t know how to fix things, how to communicate that he didn’t want to be apart from you. he just didn’t have the time to be there for you at the moment, and he knew he was hurting you either way, so if you could find another to confide in, to turn your heart to, that would be enough for him. 

after years of being apart, simon found himself standing in front of your door, full gear still clinging to him tightly, his palms sweaty but hidden from his gloves. he pressed his head into your door, a frustrated groan bubbling in his aching chest. what was he thinking, showing up to your place unannounced? what if you didn’t even live here anymore? what if you had moved on and wanted nothing to do with him? 

it was selfish, but he needed to see you again. not a day went by where you weren’t on his mind, the barracks drove him to madness, and without escape, he found comfort in an old picture of you he had taken with him. 

you had opened the door after three of his hesitant knocks; confusion etched onto your face as you stared up at the masked man, his eyes familiar but looming with newfound hurt and trauma from the brutal battlefield. 

“did you need something?” you asked, the soft babbling from your television the only thing filling the air after he looked down at you in silence. just taking you in for a moment. you looked tired but beautiful as ever. your hair slightly tangled, old baggy clothes of his that hung from your smaller figure – but you still had the same friendly smile on your face, genuine and kind eyes that looked up at him.

he swallowed thickly; you looked happy. who was he to ruin that by coming back? he had come all this way without any regrets. seeing you again was all he desired. you were happy, and that’s all he needed to know; he didn’t want to know about the person who might’ve stepped in and mended your heart together after he broke it.

gripping his bag tightly, he turned, walking off without a second glance. it was time for him to move on. you had. he was a fool to think things could go back to how it had, how he could hold you so intimately in his arms, whispering in your ear how much he loved you. feeling your lips all over his skin, the way your soft hands would trail along his burning skin. he was so stupid.

“simon?” 

your voice was just barely above a whisper, and you watched with wide eyes the way he stopped in his tracks, muscles flexed under his tight-fitted uniform as he tensed. 

his heart was beating out of his chest, ringing in his ear. turning back to face you, he hooked two fingers under his balaclava and pulled it off. he hated how you looked at him, concerned, creasing your brows. you should hate him; you should be angry that he showed his face to you again. instead, you’re tracing your thumb along his scars, ones that you didn’t recognize and the faint ones that you had already seen before.

simon sighed softly under your touch, dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around you. he pressed his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent while hugging you tightly. he almost broke down when he felt your arms coil around him, pulling him closer and burying your head into his chest.

“mommy?”

just like that, simon’s world crashes down again. he pulls away from you and looks over your shoulder to see a small girl, no older than seven standing in the doorway. she was a spitting image of you, so there was no doubt that she wasn’t yours. although, in a sense, it felt like he was looking in a mirror. piercing brown eyes staring back at him with the same amount of confusion.

“we should talk, si.” you’re wrapping your hand around his wrist, gently tugging him inside. without any hesitation, he’s following close behind you. 

since then, and that very painfully confusing conversation. simon had made his way back into your life, calling every day, showing up unannounced, and accompanying you to your daughters' school events. you didn’t complain; a life without a father was a hard one. you were glad that simon was being responsible and stepping up, and you couldn’t lie; feelings from years ago still lingered, so you enjoyed that you could spend quality time with him again.

simon chuckles lowly when his daughter smushes his cheeks with her small palms, her legs kicking into his torso as he carries her into her room. setting her down on the edge of her bed, he glances at the outfit you’d picked for her – a cute, frilly, pink dress with little white sneakers and a white cardigan. 

he lets his daughter dress herself, only stepping in to help when she tries to stick her head into her sleeve. he kneels in front of her, slipping on her tiny shoes and tying the laces. kissing her knees, he pats her cheeks and fixes her dress when she jumps down and spins in a circle.

“pancakes are ready, sweetheart!” you shout from the kitchen, sliding the hotcakes onto a plate and setting it on the dining table. zipping up her lunchbox, you set it aside before grabbing two mugs and pouring tea for you and simon.

the pair hobbles into the kitchen, simon tugged along by the hyper girl. he shakes his head with a faint smile, lifting and setting her on the chair. you lean against the counter, mug in hand, while you watch as he cuts up her purple pancakes, popping a piece into his mouth and earning a loud complaint from the young girl.

you hand him the other mug filled with tea, brewed just how he likes. he grins, looking at the cup over and realizing it’s his favorite mug, one no one is allowed to drink from unless it’s him. simon leans in and kisses your cheek before leaning against the counter next to you, the two of you watching your daughter scarf down the purple pancakes like it’d be her last meal.

you lean over with a soft pout, grabbing a napkin and wiping syrup off the corner of her mouth. “are you excited for your first day of school?” 

she nods quickly, stuffing the last of her breakfast into her mouth before she leans back, patting her stomach with satisfaction. “gonna make so many new friends today,” she grins up at you with a crooked smile. 

“bet you are. we should get going. don’t wanna be late,” simon says, setting the dishes into the sink and slinging the disney-themed backpack onto his broad shoulder. 

you frown, during the midst of it all, frantic to get things done, you had completely forgotten to change or get yourself ready. you sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose. one simple mistake after another, and now you’d have to miss sending your little girl off for her first official day of school.

simon is quick to notice your mood dropping; he shuffles over to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, tilting your head up. “why don’t you rest, i’ll wake you later, and we can pick her up together.” 

you sigh, your shoulders dropping in disappointment. it was silly, but you had been with your daughter every step of the way. it wasn’t a big moment you’d be missing, but a memory nonetheless. you wanted to push yourself, rush into your room and get ready as quickly as possible so you could walk with your simon, holding hands with your daughter while she swung between the both of you. but exhaustion was creeping from your muscles and to your eyes, your eyelids struggling to stay open.

with an unwilling yawn, you nod and let simon guide you to the comfort of your bedroom.

“c’mon bug, let’s tuck mommy in for a quick nap.” simon teases, pulling the comforter back and easing you down onto the mattress. he takes a step back and helps your daughter pull the blanket back up and tuck it under your chin. 

“night, mommy. dream of sweets!” the small girl loudly shouts, afraid you won’t be able to tear her with the blanket covering your face. 

you smile at her words, turning onto your side to look at her. “thank you, baby.” 

simon brushes the hair out of your eyes, leaning down and lightly pressing his lips to your temple. he then lifts his daughter so she can do the same, finalizing your tuck in with a goodnight kiss…or a good morning one. 

“alright, let’s get you to school, kiddo.”

the sun hangs low as simon walks hand in hand with his daughter, a short walk to the school a couple of blocks away. the air was chilling, and simon had tugged off his jacket and slipped it onto the young girl, the article of clothing hanging massively on her frame, the hem almost dragging on the floor. 

he adjusted the straps of the small colorful backpack, very snug on his broad shoulder and digging into his skin – but he didn’t care; he wore it with pride.

simon’s daughters’ chatter filled the quiet streets as she rambled about her hopes for the day. her small fingers clutched her father's index finger tightly, her words a delightful mixture of innocence and imagination. 

“daddy, you know what?” she asks, her voice laced with enthusiasm. she looks up at him with a grin before her attention is quickly redirected towards a small patch of flowers, a bloom of yellow bursting in a patch of healthy green grass.

simon watches as she lets go of his hand, crouching down and picking a couple of stems, gathering a few before returning to his side. “what, sweetheart?” 

“that ladybug that landed on my shoulder yesterday said i’m going to have the best day ever today!” she exclaims, handing the crumpled bundle of probable weeds to him, brushing her damp hands on the outside of her father’s jacket.

simon chuckles lightly at her action, his hands delicately holding the array of flowers. “the ladybug said that?”

“yep!” she said, continuing to marvel at the dream that she had that night; something about mayonnaise and mustard made simon smile, her infectious energy captivating him. 

as they walked, simon took note of the new shoes you had bought your daughter, the bright light-up shoes blinking with each exaggerated step she took. she jumped around, hopping over every line on the sidewalk, claiming that they would break your back, simon didn’t understand, but he held an arm behind her in case she tumbled backward.

approaching the school gate, simon couldn’t help but feel a frown forming on his face, the memory-filled walk ending too soon. he knelt at his little girl’s eye level, pulling her closer to him. 

“have a good day, kid. if anyone gives you trouble, tell me, and i’ll get it sorted out.” he teased, although only half of him was joking. simon slipped his jacket off her and fixed her backpack onto her shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. 

“i will! give mommy those flowers when she wakes up.” she nods, glancing behind her at the many kids that walked into the gate before hugging her father quickly, stumbling out of his hold and rushing towards the school, excitement coursing through her veins.

simon wished she had stayed a little longer, hugged him a little more, and kissed him back. still, as he watched her run into school, he realized something, he was old – and that his happiness weighed out his disappointment. he might’ve been absent for the beginning chapters of her life, but this was the first big step he was here for. it made him realize how many more were to come; watching her grow up warmed his thoughts, and he could do it all by your side. just you and his daughter, his girls.

AN: i have so many parts alr written for baby daddy simon. SHOULD I MAKE THIS A SERIES, and do i name the kid...??

[azrielbrainrot]

I'll Be Here

Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue.

Word Count: 3605

Warnings: None

Notes: I had this stuck in my head and decided to just write it down. I'm not really a writer so bear with me please. Hope you enjoy!

part of the healer!reader universe

It's hard to keep an eye on how much wine you drink when the glasses get refilled magically. You've heard that this house has a consciousness of its own. Maybe it can sense your growing anxiety and keeps filling your glass in hopes of helping ease your mind a little. The more you drink the more worried you get, the thought that getting too drunk will only put you at a higher risk of embarrassing yourself having infiltrated your brain and pushed all the rational thoughts out. Big gatherings aren't exactly your cup of tea and the fact that this one was personally hosted by your High Lord didn't exactly help ease your nerves.

You've visited the House of Wind before but always as a part of your duties. Though it was because of your duties you were invited to this dinner so maybe you could add this attendance as part of your job. The High Lord and High Lady decided to invite notable people in Velaris for a night of celebrating the thriving city. After losing its High Lord for decades and the war that followed his release, Velaris went through some tough times but with the help of its people - most of them gathered in this space tonight - the city was once again prospering.

As a healer you usually see the High Lord and his Inner Circle in a state of emergency, when your abilities are needed and there's usually no time for formalities or worries. Every time you encounter them outside of those situations you never know what to make of yourself. You wouldn't say you're completely inept at social situations but you're definitely a lot better at handling them when they involve your patients and you have a job to do, something more important to focus on than choosing the right thing to say.

Your relationship with the Inner Circle is professional albeit friendly. It's hard not to feel your heart warming at the cupcakes the General insisted on buying you for helping heal his wings even after explaining that you actually only helped on his recovery process. Every time he drops by the clinic to pick up any herbs or ointments he insists on buying you one - though you suspect it's also an excuse to get one for himself - and when you see him out and about he demonstrates how healthy his wings are, having done it just before dinner when he was in charge of flying you up to the house. The painting the High Lady personally painted for you, as an acknowledgement of your efforts during the war, hangs right behind your desk in your office at the clinic and is one of your most important possessions.

This would be the kind of relationship anyone would kill to have with their employees - friendly acquaintances. But, since you were there for some of their most intimate moments and helped them through them, you never know how to act when you're not doing your job. You can't exactly call them your friends, even putting the fact that is your High Lord and High Lady aside, outside of work you only exchange some pleasantries whenever you bump into them. However there's too much knowledge for you to act completely professional after decades of nursing them and their family back to health. It feels awkward to shake their hands when they have hugged you with tears in their eyes, thanking you for saving their family.

There's also the tiny detail of the crush you've harbored on the resident shadowsinger ever since you first laid eyes on him. On top of trying to walk the line between friends and strangers with everyone else, you also have to be careful with not letting the observant Spymaster find out about the beat your heart skips when you see him. Making things awkward because of a silly crush is the last thing you need.

It's that reminder and the monumental effort you have to make not to let your eyes search for him that has you finally sneaking out of the room, deciding to find a quiet place to sober up. The House had fed you too much wine, and you still had to be flown back down at the end of the night. You'd really hate to throw up on Cassian's fancy suit. He probably wouldn't buy you cupcakes ever again.

You remember some of your surroundings after decades of being called in for emergencies, quickly finding one of the huge balconies overlooking the city. The fresh air grounds you almost immediately. You can still hear the muffled sounds of the ongoing party but the quietness of the mountain lets you get lost in thought. As much as you enjoy the liveliness of the nightlife in Velaris, you infinitely prefer the quietness and freedom only the woods or mountains at night can provide. When it's only you, the moon and the stars, and the world stops.

You don't know how long you sit there for, leaning on the railing and looking into the distance, wondering why your healing abilities work on some forms of poison but not on sobering you up. Your head only comes back to earth when you hear a familiar voice calling out your name behind you. You turn around fast enough to make you a bit dizzy, leaning back against the railing with wide eyes.

“Didn't mean to scare you,” the shadowsinger explained, “I just noticed you were gone from the room.” You spot the way he's bringing his wings closer to his body, making himself smaller, if that were even possible. Azriel made you feel a lot of things but you hadn't felt scared of him in decades, ever since the first time you met him. If you hadn't been already tipsy and distracted thinking about him you wouldn't have reacted so dramatically.

Realizing the spymaster of this court had just found you wandering around his house unattended, you rush to apologize and give him an explanation.

“I'm sorry. I needed some fresh air and remembered there was a balcony around here. I shouldn't have left the party without permission.” You make to move back, showing you were ready to go back to the party but he raises a hand and takes a step closer to you, stopping you before you can.

“You're not a stranger to this house. No need for permission,” he took another tentative step towards you before continuing, “Do you feel better now?” You relax back against the railing, your heart beating fast for a whole different reason now. It's not often you get to see Azriel out of his leathers and you barely had a chance to see him up close tonight, he looks mesmerizing.

“What?” Maybe you didn't sober up as much as you thought. Maybe being this close to Azriel was just an intoxicating experience in itself. Either way your brain was having a hard time catching up to his words and your chest was starting to feel warm.

“You said you needed some fresh air.” There's a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. Probably realizing that you weren't actually going to be sick. His shadows peak behind his shoulders, following their master as they usually do.

“Yes. It was just getting a bit stuffy in there.” Aside from the butterflies creating a hurricane in your stomach, talking to Azriel feels right. His calm demeanor lets your thoughts quiet. “I might have drank too much because of the nerves.”

The Shadowsinger moves until he's leaning against the railing next to you. His eyes wander the illuminated city slowly before meeting yours. Stretched wings hang in what you assume is a less straining position after having to be pulled tighter into his body in the crowded room. Shadows start rolling off his shoulders, now lazing around him instead of covering him. The soft wind moves his hair ever so slightly, letting a few strands curl around his forehead and giving him an almost boyish look. It's not often you see the spymaster appear relaxed. You decide it might be your favorite look on him.

“Nerves?” Your eyes search his face once again after hearing the confusion in his voice. Azriel has a permanent seat at the High Lord's table not only as the Night Court's Spymaster but also as someone Rhysand considers family. This night isn't so different from every other dinner he shares with his family, just more crowded.

“I've never been to this house outside of my duties. It's a bit nerve-wracking to be personally invited by the High Lord.” As you finish speaking one of his shadows curls around his ear. You've learned they do this when they're speaking to him. The thought of it being about you has your heart speeding up. Only the Mother knows just how much those shadows can see and hear, if they can hear your thoughts. You check your mental shields just in case. They can be as terrifying as they are beautiful.

“Rhys and Feyre couldn't have thrown a party celebrating the strength and courage the people of Velaris have shown without one of our best healers. You've helped more people than we could ever thank you for.” The warmth you felt in your chest before was now spreading up your neck at an alarming rate. You had just been doing your job but being recognized for it felt incredibly rewarding. The fact that this praise came from the shadowsinger was making you especially giddy. “Rhys invited you because you're very important to this court, to us.”

“I am?” The question comes out before your brain has a chance to catch up. You try not to cringe at the surprise in your tone. It's not that you're not aware of your capabilities, the High Lord and High Lady either call for you or for Madja, one of the most powerful and wise healers you have ever seen. But old insecurities will always show their claws, indifferent to your achievements. To think that you could be important to all these extremely powerful people seemed like the punchline to a joke.

“Of course.” His body turns to you ever so slightly. Fingers uncurl as if he wanted to reach out, comfort you. “None of us would be here in good health if it wasn't for you, maybe not at all. You've helped us more times than I can count.”

“I was just doing my job. And I can't take credit for Madja, I'm usually just assisting her.”

“Even so, you've helped us through a lot.” He sounded very sincere, there was no denying he meant every word, but you still have a hard time believing it.

“I just don't think I really fit in here,” you whispered so low that if it wasn't for his fae hearing he wouldn't have been able to make out the words. The admission felt heavy in the air, it felt good to let it out. You hadn't been this honest with anyone, perhaps even yourself, in decades, you must have drank way more wine than you initially thought.

You weren't born in Velaris, but you've lived here for a century. The problem is you've spent the better part of that century waiting on feeling like you finally belonged. You never felt at home in your own court or in your family so it might have been wishful thinking that it would happen here.

“I think like that sometimes too.” As baffled as you were to hear that coming from him, he looked even more surprised than you. It seems he hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the words couldn't be taken back now.

“That's insane,” you try to level your voice after the outburst, "You're part of this family. Why wouldn't you fit in?” You couldn't let him think like that, there was no doubt in your mind everyone here loved and cherished him like family.

Rhysand's inner circle was known for how close they were, they were seen as the High Lord's family regardless of if they were blood related or not. Azriel has always been calmer and you know he likes to keep to himself but you never thought he looked out of place for a second. It's hard to imagine Rhysand and Cassian without his brother.

His eyes were trained on the city under you. His shadows had come back to him, almost covering him completely. Azriel was quiet for a while, long enough you thought he wouldn't even give you an answer. But then you feel a shield form around you, lest someone wanders in and hears his next words.

“Sometimes things and people change while you stay stuck in the same place,” his eyes meet yours as he talks and you search his expression for the rest of the story you know he won't tell. If there's one thing you hate about the shadowsinger is his ability to mask his emotions. His face was the perfect stoic mask as always.

It's not hard to understand what he meant. In less than a decade the inner circle almost doubled and some of the dynamics had likely changed with it. His brothers have found their mates, something every fae dreams of, and he was the odd one out. Even the Morrigan and Amren had found lovers in recent years.

You had heard some rumors he had taken a liking to the middle Archeron sister after pining for the lovely Morrigan for centuries, but she had also found her mate. Not even his methods of interrogation could make you admit you were avoiding the entire inner circle during that time. The hope you had felt upon realizing he wasn't looking at Morrigan like she hung all the stars in the sky was short lived and it only made you feel pathetic. You didn't understand why it had affected you so much. This was just a silly crush after all, you had never considered actually pursuing a relationship with the shadowsinger.

“I still don't understand how Amren got a lover before you.” You had meant to clear the heavy air between you but why your brain decided to use the millennia old creature to do so was beyond you. “I mean she's just…” you continue, startled by your own words, praying to the Mother that the shield he put up stopped Amren from hearing you, “Well, she's fae now but wasn't before and is still mildly terrifying, even after the transition, and you're so-” Wide eyes meet hazel and nothing could ever prepare you for the look on his face. The amusement shone bright in his eyes and in the teasing grin he wore. Just when you thought the shadowsinger couldn't get any more beautiful.

“I'm so?” He tilts his head a little as he asks the question. His shadows start almost dancing around him, like they can't wait to hear your thoughts on their singer. You clear your throat before continuing, trying to salvage some of your dignity.

“You're the Spymaster, the only known Shadowsinger. That's incredible, anyone would be lucky to have you.” Something flashes in his eyes and your mouth starts back up at the thought that it could be disappointment at the impersonal description. Azriel is much more than his role in this court and you can't let him think that's all you see in him.

“You're also one of the kindest people I've ever met. I've seen you worry over every single person in that room, putting their needs over your own even when you're also injured. You always keep your composure for them and give them your support. I've seen you around Velaris too, you're always respectful to everyone, even when they're a bit scared of you.” Eyes drag themselves back to the shiny stars in the night so you can keep going without wanting to jump off the balcony and making an even bigger fool of yourself. “Even as far as looks go... I would bet my house that if we walked down any of these streets we wouldn't find anyone that doesn't think you're stupidly handsome.”

“Stupidly handsome?” The amusement was dripping down his voice at this point. The smile was unmistakable in his tone and you couldn't hold yourself back from watching him any longer. You feel yourself relax at the grin plastered on his face. It isn't often that the shadowsinger shows any emotion at all, and you can't help the pride in knowing you put that gorgeous smile on his face, especially after the somber turn the conversation had taken earlier. You continue despite the warmth you feel in your ears, you'd compliment him for hours if it meant he wouldn't feel sad ever again.

“I've actually heard someone use those exact words to describe you.” You've thought it to be the most accurate description of the immense beauty the shadowsinger radiates ever since you heard the barista use it. Apparently she hadn't been born in Velaris and had taken up the job only a few days prior to serving the illyrian. She had barely held the compliment down long enough for Azriel to exit the building, shooting up into the sky. A few fae present couldn't contain the laugh at the fervent appreciation of the shadowsinger, but the air of agreement shared by everyone was unmistakable.

“I'll have to let my mom know,” there was laughter in his tone, “I'm sure she will be very proud that her son is receiving such compliments.” You hadn't known his mother was still alive which makes you think it's meant to be kept secret. You almost curse at the way your heart flutters. Stupid crushes.

“I'm sure she is very proud of you regardless.” He doesn't give away any hint of what might be going through his brain and it leaves you in a slight panicked fear of overstepping or having said the wrong thing. You could swear you saw a glint of disbelief but it was gone too fast for you to be sure. The idea that the Spymaster couldn't see his own mother being proud of him was ludicrous to you.

The nod he gives you doesn't give any of his thoughts away, but his shadows keep moving slowly around the balcony, never rushing to cover him.

“Why are you single then?” You know he's changing the subject but you don't have time to consider that when you realize it's your turn to answer the questions.

“Me?” You barely register the slight nod he gives to show you he's expecting an answer. If you had shadows of your own they would have wrapped around you like a blanket until only the top of your hair was peaking out. “How do you know I am? Are you using your spies on me, Spymaster?”

“I have to be well informed of what happens in this city,” he searches your face just like you did to him, “And as the spymaster I'm more than familiar with deflection. You don't have to answer my question. Tell me if I'm overstepping”

“No. It's-” you cringe, trying to find the right words. “I just never found anyone special I guess.” Even talking about this with him has your heart swelling in your chest and you pray to the mother he can't pick up on any changes in your heartbeat. You've been avoiding this conversation with family and friends, but despite all this you know Azriel will understand and won't make fun of your feelings. It feels safe talking to him. “I get really busy sometimes so it's hard to keep up a proper relationship, even with friendships. Sometimes people need more time than what I can give them.” You try not to think of all the times you didn't measure up to other people's expectations, when they didn't see you as enough for the trouble.

“They're idiots for letting you go.” You don't know if he's being polite in not mentioning how your heart keeps speeding up or if he thinks you're drunker than you are, but you thank every deity you can think of that he doesn't say anything.

“Some things just aren't meant to be.” You hope he doesn't insist on this conversation. There isn't much else to say and you'd rather not keep talking about how many times you'd gotten dumped. You consider pointing out he never gave you a reason for being single and that he was the one actually deflecting, but you don't want to push what clearly isn't an easy topic for him to discuss either. You suspect Azriel barely opens up with anyone, so you'll just treasure the brief look into his heart he allowed you before.

The rest of your night is spent with the shadowsinger, sitting in that balcony, watching the stars and talking about anything. The next day you'll sit in bed mortified, thinking about how you were doing most of the talking while he listened, but he had seemed content enough so you couldn't have been too annoying. When the party ended you had said your goodbyes to your hosts, without the previous nerves after your conversation with the shadowsinger. Feyre had even asked you if you were alright because she also noticed you leaving in the middle of the party, though something about the glint in her eyes told you she had gotten the wrong idea. Then Azriel had flown you down the steps and winnowed you to your front door - even though you could do it yourself. Maybe you'd have to rethink calling the inner circle your friends.

[moonstruckme]

OK WAIT I COOKED combine doctor rem and whimsical reader where the reader is telling rem about all of these mystical beliefs about health and sickness and he’s just humoring her

You cooked babe !

doctor!Remus x whimsical!reader ♡ 476 words

Remus startles a bit when you wrap your arms around his midsection, your footsteps were so noiseless on the kitchen floor. He chuckles quietly as his heart calms, rubbing your wrist where it rests over his belly button. You lay your cheek against his back. 

“Hello,” he says warmly, picking up another dish from the dirty pile and dunking it in the soapy water. 

“Would you ever want to take my diffuser to work with you?” you ask. 

Remus hums, more than used to your seemingly spontaneous questions. “You really like it,” he says, “so I wouldn’t want to take it from you. Why?” 

“I could use another one,” you reply airily. “I thought it might be nice for the people who come to see you. I could give you some peppermint oil to help heal them.” 

“To heal them?” 

“Mhm. It’s good for nausea and respiratory issues, plus it’d be nice for if they’re nervous, too.” 

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He sets the bowl he was washing in the drying rack. “That’s very considerate of you, but I don’t know if my patients would appreciate it as much as you do. And, ideally, they’re getting all the medical help they need from me.” 

You melt deeper into his backside. Remus chuckles, wiping his hands and turning in your arms. You make a happy sound as he grasps the back of your neck in one hand, fingers still damp, and settles the other on the small of your back. 

“It never hurts to have extra help,” you say, turning your face up to his. He tunnels his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp. “Remember last week, when I had that awful headache but it was really just because my energy was out of balance?” 

With great effort does Remus repress his sigh. You’d laid on the couch with a rock on your forehead after saying something about energy fields, and the only reason the pain had eased was because he’d decided he wasn’t above crushing up a pain reliever and stirring it into your tea. You’d been quietly pleased with having realigned your magnetic fields or whatever for the rest of the afternoon, and your boyfriend hadn’t had the heart to clue you in. 

“You never know what could be the real root of the problem,” you hum. 

He drops his lips to your forehead. “I suppose you’re right.” 

You give him a smile that feels like the breeze coming off the sea. Remus’ own lips turn up in response. 

“I’ll get you a new diffuser to replace yours,” he says. “Thanks, dove.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I have a spare.” You let go of his waist to twine your arms around Remus’ neck, kissing him sweetly. “It’s cute that you thought I’d only have one, though.” 

Yeah, he’s the cute one.

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Realistic Tips & Tricks to Become "That Girl"

Some alternatives to having an entire day before 9am that allow you to enjoy your life and help you find pleasure in reaching your goals. Enjoy xx

Focus on a consistent sleep schedule, not select times: Structure your day around your energy, not an idealized schedule is guaranteed to not work for everyone. Wake up at 6-7 am, if you're a true early riser, and head to the gym to get your day started. Otherwise, there's no reason why waking up at 8-9am and getting in an evening-time workout session is lesser than.

Plan your days & week around your energy peaks: Figure out the times of the day when you're most focused, productive, creative, fidgety, sleepy, etc., and structure your days/weeks/month around your internal clock to the best of your ability. While this may be slightly difficult if you have a 9-5 or go to school during the day, think about what blocks of time are best dedicated to meetings, creative work, planning, routine tasks, emails, studying, etc. For those with uteruses, consider your energy throughout your cycle to help you plan the month.

Create "bookend" routines: While these will often be your morning and nighttime routines, consider how you prime and unwind your mind from your biggest tasks of the day (for most of us, this will be work, school, and chores on the weekends). Some reading, light movement, and upbeat music can create momentum before starting your daily tasks. A long walk and some journaling are a simple yet productive combination to decompress from the day.

Embrace the power of 3s: Create a daily primer routine, workday, and relaxation routine around 3 core tasks/projects/rituals. For example: Mornings can include using your 5-Minute Journal, doing a quick 10-minute meditation/yoga/dancing session to get in some movement, and spending 10 minutes reading; Your workday should be focused on completing your "Big Three" tasks, projects, or meetings of the day; Evenings can include a quick 5-10 minute planning session for the next day, a 15-60 minute walk or workout (depending on how you're feeling), and some journaling/reading time after dinner. You don't need to do it all. Consistency is key.

Create a "pleasure" and "pain" list. Own your inner masochist: Open up a fresh journal page or web document. Create two separate lists titled "Pleasure" and "Pain." The first list captures all of the simple pleasures that make your days enjoyable (from coffee rituals and your skincare routine to small work successes, daily movement, and indulgent evening treats, like a favorite TV show, a glass of wine, tea, etc.). The second list captures the tasks you regularly dread or procrastinate out of hatred and overwhelm (includes tedious or mentally-draining work tasks, meetings, chores, difficult workout sessions, necessary conversations with emotionally immature people, etc.). Looking over these two lists gives you an overview of your daily experience to help you (realistically) optimize your day for more ease and enjoyment.

Incorporate a pleasurable element into every ritual: Find ways to pair these more "painful" activities with something pleasurable. Examples include having a favorite coffee or tea while working on a draining work project, listening to a fun playlist, taking a walk/doing a face mask or massage while having a less enjoyable conversation, etc.)

Leverage habit stacking: Build habits on top of one another to set yourself up for success. Use a nearly mindless or enjoyable "cue" to spark action that results in habit formation. For example, use sipping your morning coffee as a cue to read your 10 daily pages or do some journaling. Leave your workout clothes out beside your bed with your yoga mat all laid out to make it stupidly easy to get your workout done right away. Have a playlist curated and opened to let you press "start" immediately when you need to begin your work day.

Create a capsule menu/wardrobe: Streamline your everyday meals and outfits by curating a handful of healthy breakfasts/lunches/dinners/snacks and outfits that you can put together mindlessly throughout the week. While creativity in these areas is fun, pre-determined options for busy days can help minimize decision fatigue. Know what staple groceries you need in your kitchen to make these recipes, and ensure to keep them in stock when going on your weekly grocery run. Have a few go-to outfits for work, running errands, working out, and social outings. Choose 5-10 well-fitting wardrobe staples that pair well together in the front of your closet at all times.

Become a playlist master: Curate different playlists for particular tasks, activities, and times of the day. Having playlists for creative/admin work tasks, reading, working out, cleaning, waking up, and winding down for the day can give you the energy to focus and not procrastinate or simply enjoy a necessary task more.

Focus on systems, not habits: Consider the domino effect of each practice and activity. Determine whether your current strategies and routines align with your energy, goals, and desired outcomes. Reflect on the parts of your routine that increase/decrease your energy and motivation. See how you can create a system – a pattern of consistently-practiced habits – that supports your goals and desired lifestyle that does not compromise your overall life satisfaction and well-being.

Experiment until you find an achievable balance: Focus on progress, not perfection. While there may be days or even seasons where hard work and fewer pleasures take priority, life is meant to bring you joy, peace, and satisfaction at the end of the day. Remaining in your comfort zone does you no good. However, learning ways to find pleasure in the process remains the key to long-lasting discipline and the energy necessary to maintain the determination required for success.

Sending you healthy and prosperous vibes xx

[instant-delusions]

hii omg may i request xavier smut where he comes home from a hunter mission and catches reader humping his pillow while wearing his hoodie? and it ends with him making reader ride his thigh/dick (or both! i can take him 🤗)

OOOOHHHH MY GOOOD! I LOVE THIS ONE SM 💗💗 I haven't proofread this much cuz it's exam season for me 😭

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢɪʀʟ ɢᴏɴᴇ ʙᴀᴅ!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

xavier x afab! reader

cw: thigh riding, pillow humping, cursing

you were trashing in xavier's comfy bed, checking your phone every ten seconds to see if your boyfriend finally messaged you. though, unfortunately - nothing. pressing your power button to shut your phone, you see your pouting reflection.

obviously, you knew you were being melodramatic, xavier was off on a mission, and it is hardly realistic that he'll put up his hand, saying something like "hold on, wanderer. my gf texted me." it was impossible to deny you were craving his attention astronomically, though - seriously, look at you. you were in one of his white hoodies, breathing in his fragrance and cuddling his pillows with furrowed brows. it was almost pathetic.

groaning, you opened the messenger.

₊ ⊹

y/n: xavier when r u gonna be back??

₊ ⊹

nothing once again. sighing, you closed your eyes and laid back, his scent becoming more intense with every second of his absence. it reminded you of the times he leaned down to whisper things in your ear or when he nuzzled into your nape, like a golden retriever. breathing in deeply, your lungs filled with his green tea laundry detergent. you can't get enough of him, missing the feel of his weight against you, his lips on your skin, his voice, his hands, him, him, him - even if it's just hours he's gone.

it's almost surprising how quickly your neediness melted your brain, your warm body almost uncomfortable on the bed. figments of memories filled your mind, xavier in his hunter uniform, focused look and swinging his sword - confident in his strength. xavier carrying you to your apartment after one too many tequila shots. xavier kissing your shoulder with his hand on your naked waist. xavier squeezed between your legs, pupils blown wide with lust, his pale skin with a peachy blush. whining, you squeezed your legs together, feeling a familiar pang of pleasure in your lower stomach.

god, you feel dizzy with want, the line between appropriateness and shamefulness blurred. turning around, you got on your knees and grabbed the headboard with a hand and one of his starprint pillows to bring in between your legs. quickly, you got rid of your 'shorts' (one of xavier's boxers).

testing the waters, you roll your hips slowly, feeling how the pillow softly stimulated your clit. a soft gasp escaped your lips, thinking about how xavier has his head on this every day, sleeping innocently. another whine fills the room, and you bite down on your lip, smearing your pussy sloppily on the fabric. "fuck", you drag yourself up and down with a harsh arch of your hips, feeling the knot in your tummy tightening - the imagination of xavier beneath you painting your thoughts. a soft 'ping' comes from your phone, but you didn't hear it at all.

₊ ⊹

xav♡: almost there

xav♡: sry for not txting

₊ ⊹

you slowed your hips a little to drag out the pleasure, soaking the light blue pillow in your creamy liquid. humming a low "mmh" at the intense feeling, you barely even made out the clinking of keys, or the steps.

xavier just got into the apartment - noticing your shoes at the entrance, he smiled to himself, excited to see you. the mission was insanely exhausting, and he couldn't wait to feel you ease his mind. lazily, he took off his dusty, slightly blood-stained uniform and threw it somewhere on the ground, stepping through his apartment in boxers. suddenly, his ears quirked up, hearing whining from his bedroom. confused, he raised an eyebrow and quickly made his way over, opening the door without a second thought.

the sight he was greeted with got his jaw slacked - you in his hoodie, his pillow between your thighs and your beautiful face contorted in pleasure. for a few seconds, he just stood there with the doorknob still in his hand, drinking in the way your hips moved and then stilled with realization, you looked back at him with your mouth open.

"xavier?!" you exclaimed, face red and eyes wide with shock. said man got over his initial confusion quickly, his body tensing with the need to please you - it's like what he was born to do. with a few strides, he crawls onto the bed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it onto the floor. "Sorry, you seem to have missed me a lot. I'm here now, I'll make it up to you."

Your eyes fixed on him. You were barely able to comprehend what was happening, everything went by so fast. "Xav...?" he grabbed you by the waist, guiding you onto his naked thigh. Feeling his muscles flex under your soaked, panty-clad pussy had you moaning out, pathetically grabbing his arms in an attempt to ground yourself. "There you go. I'll take care of you." The hunter guided your hips up and down his thigh, feeling every crevice and bump of your cunt through your underwear. "What..." You started, eyes rolling back in pleasure. "What bout you?" you babbled on. "Don't worry." eyeing his growing bulge, seeing his cock needily strain against his boxers, you questioned his response. Though you definitely were not in enough control of your mind to do anything about it, but weakly grind against his thigh. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Xavier looks at you, thinking about how nothing is hotter than your face right now, mouth open, eyes scrunched in pleasure, your blush. Everything because of him, everything for him - with a smile, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand tightening on your waist. "That's it, cum for me, baby." he almost pleaded, leaning in closer to hover his lips over yours.

Instinctively, you caught them, kissing him feverishly while grinding on his thigh harder. With a few more chopped strokes of your hips, you started shaking with your orgasm, feeling like your soul fell down from the cosmos, right back into Xavier's bedroom. He pressed his lips to yours once more, smiling cutely at you. "Better?" he asks, rubbing circles on your back comfortingly. Weakly, you nod, letting your head fall onto his chest, your arms snaking around his middle.

"I missed you. Let's cuddle."

[ragnvindrgf]

i've been thinking about xianyun…

xianyun who is so mesmerized and captivated by humans, what on earth made them so special that her disciples all took home among them?

xianyun who is so mesmerized and captivated with one human in general, you.

you're an engineer hailing from fontaine, visiting liyue during lantern rite and bringing along your stock of recently improved tea presses. 

you and xianyun spark up a conversation over how it works, how it knows at what temperature exactly to boil tea leaves and for exactly how much time. if xianyun notices your stumbling words and blushing cheeks (because, archons, she has to be the most otherworldly and beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on), she doesn't say a word and instead asks you over to her small apartment nestled in liyue harbor to talk more over tea and almond tofu.

nsfw under cut

but the tea and sweets are long forgotten and cold on the table as you grip the adeptus’ sofa headrest while xianyun’s tongue circles and flicks your swollen clit, her other hand being used to spread apart your puffy folds.

small, pained gasps escape your lips when xianyun’s talon like fingers grip your thighs apart to keep you from squirming, tongue motion speeding up and drawing small, tight circles around the bundle of nerves.

xianyun’s aquamarine eyes glimmer in amusement when your juices soak her face, “my, one now knows firsthand how you humans can be so… fascinating,” xianyun’s fingers ease inside you as she watches you whimper from the overstimulation , “perhaps you can show me some more,”

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

thinking about building lego with spencer reid —

implied fem!reader

just thinking about the idea of going to the lego store together, looking around and browsing the items on the shelves. spencer's eyes wouldn't be able to pull away from one lego set in particular, a lavish splurge he's contemplated for months - the typewriter. 

he'd be hesitant, mentally weighing the options with something cheaper - with something he didn't really want. but you'd notice, playfully nudging his side as if to encourage him, tempt him. giving him a soft, easing smile as you place the black box into his hands, telling him how he deserves a treat and that it would look great on his shelf. 

he'd ask you about what you wanted - what you came in for, but you'd already have it. orchid lego set slipped under your arm, an enthusiastic grin on your face.

back at home and dressed into something comfier, you'd have your purchases laid out on the dining table, small plastic bags torn open, correlating pieces spread across the surface. cups of tea and cookies and fresh fruit slotted between the free space of the table - making quick snacks and nibbles to keep you going.

you'd be sat opposite each other, sole focus on the instruction booklets in front of you as you build your sets. but every now and then, you'd take a moment to admire the progress made between you both, seeing each of your creations come to life. sweetly smiling at each other before continuing your projects in comfortable, homely silence. the only sounds being the clicking of the lego and soft commotion from outside.

self indulgent bc im rebuilding one of my lego sets rn tehe

[aemondavenue]

Can you do a scenario or headcanon where Aemond finds out his wife takes moon tea because she overheard him say he doesn't want children

word count: 825

“I can’t remember a time of ever liking Father,” Aemond said.

Aegon sat back in his seat and looked at his brother. He had finally managed to get a few drinks in him. Trying to ease his nerves at the end of their long week of tense council meetings. The conversation had all too quickly turned to their father.

“I don’t remember people especially hating him, though. Viserys the Peaceful and all that,” Aegon responded, he then took a swig of his ale.

“Well, there were people who liked him somewhat as a King, but as our father he-“

“Oh, he was shit.”

“Well, yeah,” Aemond nodded, a smirk teasing on his lips.

The silence that then grew between them moved from humorous to melancholic.

Aemond sighed then said “Y/N and I are trying.”

“I do not need to hear about where you are spilling your-“

“I know! I mean to say I’ve been thinking about it ... The type of father I would be.”

Aegon looks at his brother again.

Aemond continues speaking.

“Sometimes I think it’s simple because of course we’ll have children. It’s our duty to produce heirs. To continue the Valyrian line. To bind our houses. To secure allyship for generations to come,”  Aemond didn’t mention the other more personal reasons he wanted to bond to you in this way, “Once in a blue moon there are these other moments where I think to myself, am I ready though? To produce a person. I do want to be present, but what if I fuck up? At my lowest I’d think-“

── •

You padded across the hall, making your way back to your chambers. You longed for your husband's embrace and a restful sleep.

You catch the sound of his voice. 

“I don’t want this.”

You hear a waver in his voice. Whatever he was saying he had not expressed to you. It was wrong, still you couldn’t help but lean in.

“I don’t want children.”

Your face fell.

“There’s all this pressure to-“

You’ve heard too much, you thought to yourself and stride off.

── •

Days pass.

You notice Aemond had grown colder and distanced since you overheard his confession.

You have since requested moon tea from the Maesters. You wanted to rid him of this burden. He was not ready and you forced the idea of a child upon him all too quickly, you thought. 

You felt guilty. You felt hollow as you laid on your side in your shared bed. He would soon enter the room as well. The hour was late. Only the moonlight illuminated his path to the bed.

You felt the mattress shift beneath you and he positioned himself in his usual spot. You were faced away from him. It was as if his mere presence burned into your back.

“I need you to look at me, Issa jorrāelagon” My love.

You took a deep breath. You sat up. You looked at him, but then quickly down at your hands.

“Why is it I hear first from anyone, but yourself about … taking a moon tea?”

 You didn’t know how to respond.

“Do you not want this? Do you not- did I do anything to- do you still love me?”

“Yes I do!” you turn to him now.

“Then what is it? Tell me!” he never raised his voice like this, never at you, not once. It wasn’t in anger, but desperation.

“I heard you!”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“In the- I was in the corridor. I heard you say that you didn’t want children.”

He looked confused. He paused.

“And what else did you hear or was that the whole of it?” He said his voice was quieter again, even softer than usual.

You shook your head.

“It’s all I needed to hear,” you look down again, playing with your hands in your lap. You jaw clenched trying to hide any semblance of emotion.

“I have not told you, but-“ he pauses, “ I am scared.”

“Scared?”  

“I want to be good enough for them, for you both. What if I'm not?”

You look at him.

“I know how I felt about my father. I don’t want them to feel that way about me-“

You turn to him and climb on his lap. You bring your hands to his face and prop his head up to look at you.

“You need to tell me these things husband,” you look him in the eye.

His face softens at your words.

“I don’t want to let you down in all this,” his voice is quiet.

“You wouldn’t! You realize this?” you shake your head and smile at him, “your worry proves that your care. That’s better than most men in positions similar to yours.”

“Do you think?” he questions.

“You will be an amazing father, my love. Our babes will love you for all you are and you them.”

“So you want a baby with me?”

“I do.”

[sellenite]

stress relief with Kento Nanami

pairing: Kento Nanami x gn!reader content: oral (m! receiving), sensory deprivation (thank u towel), body worship (m! receiving), established relationship (you live together) word count: 1.3K MDNI | 18+

This picture of Nanami has been haunting my thoughts for like a week now, and I just needed to take a few moments to get it out 😭 so just imagine this friends:

It was late when Kento finally got home from work. It had been a long day and an even longer week, but coming home to you always put a smile on his face. You made enough dinner for two, as always, but he had texted you earlier in the evening and told you to eat without him– he wouldn’t be home in time again. You waited up for him on the couch, giving him a soft smile as he took his shoes off at the door, his handsome face gaunt and tired. It made your heart ache a little.

“You didn’t need to wait up for me, darling,” he told you gently, a tired smile on his lips as he looked over at you. You rose to your feet to greet him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek as you helped him take his coat off.

“Nonsense, I wanted to... I missed you too much,” you replied tenderly, reaching up to caress his strong jaw with your hand. You could see in his eyes how tired he was, so you told him to take a shower while you made him some tea.

You lit some candles while you waited for him, hoping that a soothing atmosphere might help him to relax a little easier. The living room of your apartment was bathed in the dim moonlight that shone through the window, the soft crackle of the wood wick candle burning peacefully on the kitchen counter. Kento finished his shower as you prepared the tea for him and met you in the space of the combined living room and kitchen area, dressed only in his robe. He sank down into his armchair and leaned his head back to rest a warm towel over his eyes. You watched him, so overworked and overtired, as he let out a long sigh; and that was when the idea arose. He had been so stressed from working overtime every night this week and he was in desperate need of some stress relief. And luckily, you knew just what he needed to feel better.

You left the hot mug on the kitchen counter to cool as you made your way over to where Kento’s tall form lay reclined in his armchair. He heard your quiet footsteps approaching and was about to lift the towel from his eyes when he felt your soft lips press against his. He smiled lazily as he kissed you back, reaching up to remove the cloth from his eyes before you stopped him gently.

“Leave it on,” you whispered in his ear, the smile evident in your voice. “I want to do something for you…”

You pressed another kiss to his lips before you began moving them lower, slowly and tenderly. You pressed a few to his jaw, and then to his neck as your hands slid into his robe to run your palms up and down his chest. He let out another sigh, a soft smile on his face as he felt your lips, and sometimes your tongue, working down his throat. He felt your gentle hands opening his robe up more as your mouth traveled lower, reaching the top of his chest and collarbones. You shifted your body and started to ease down onto your knees between his spread legs as your lips massaged over the contours of his torso.

Kento’s head was spinning from the tantalizing pace of your lips and hands. You were moving so slowly, taking your time to caress every part of his sore body, silently worshipping his skin. Every touch you gave him was so soft, yet so deliberate. It made him feel like he was in some kind of dream as he laid his head back, tired eyes closed under the washcloth. The only sounds that could be heard were the low crackling of the candle, the gentle sounds of your lips moving over his body, and his increasingly heavy breathing. He let out a deep appreciative moan as you kept moving lower, gliding your tongue over his abs as your hands tenderly massaged his strong thighs.

He was already hard by the time you opened his robe. The touches of your mouth and hands all over his body were more than enough to leave him wanting, especially considering how you were treating him with so much love and careful attention. His hands found your face and he caressed your cheeks in his big palms, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones as a silent expression of his gratitude. He felt your soft hand wrap around his long shaft, stroking firmly, yet slowly, up and down his cock. He shuddered out a deep moan at the feeling of your hand on him as your lips kissed teasingly over his thighs.

And when you finally started to suck him off, it was so slow and sensual. You kept up your deliberately languid pace, taking his leaking head into your mouth as your tongue stroked against the underside. You gently cupped his balls while you sucked around his tip, making sure he could feel every minute drag of your lips as they slid up his tip and then back down. He was breathing heavily now, small strained moans spilling from his lips on occasion. He didn’t even realize how pent-up he had truly been until this moment, how much he had missed the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him.

“Thank you, darling… Thank you…” He said in a breathless whisper. He had such a long week and the feeling of your lips so lovingly wrapped around his cock was the greatest reward he could ever hope for.

You hummed around his dick as you took more of him into your mouth, causing him to moan a little louder for you. His hands were still holding your face, gently stroking his thumbs along your cheekbones, but there was no force behind it; he was more than content to sit back and let you take control, to let you so generously take care of him. You were sucking him off at such a hypnotizing pace that the stress which had plagued his mind for the last week just melted away. The aching muscles between his shoulder blades faded to nothing as his senses were overwhelmed by the feeling of your lips wrapped around his cock. Your mouth worshipped him, your hands stroking the length you couldn’t take comfortably, but moving in rhythm with your lips. He moaned as he listened to the soft, wet sounds as you bobbed your head up and down.

Kento was so lost in the moment now, his body completely relaxed into the armchair as you sucked all of the tension from his body. His moans were coming out louder now, deep and hoarse, as he felt his climax beginning to build. His hips and thighs started to twitch the slightest bit, which you took notice of, humming around his cock happily as he struggled to maintain control over his limbs.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart… So perfect… I- I’m going to cum soon…” He warned you breathlessly, his voice strained as he struggled to resist the urge to thrust up into your face (ever the gentleman). You hummed around his tip again and slightly increased the pace at which your lips and hand stroked over him, giving that final push he needed. You felt his cock twitch in your throat and he groaned deeply as he came, his balls contracting as they pushed all of his pent-up cum into your awaiting mouth.

He took the washcloth off of his eyes after he had recovered from the aftershocks of his orgasm, cheeks a little flushed with the happiest, most relaxed smile you had seen on his face all week. He pulled you up to sit on his lap, kissing you sweetly as he planned out exactly how he would repay you in the morning…

[tteokdoroki]

soulmate!au, gn!reader and reader has a beauty mark on their top lip.

bakugou helps an old lady to her taxi car while on patrol, carrying her groceries with ease as if they weigh nothing to him.

spoiler alert, they don’t.

he sets up her bags in the boot of the car, mindful of the eggs and careful of the bread to make sure they don’t get crushed amongst the other things she passes to him to put away. when they’re done, bakugou reaches up high so the old lady doesn’t have to and closes the door to the trunk.

“you have a beauty mark on your hand, dear.” she comments with a wobbling and homely voice. “one just under your ear too.”

“hah? what d’they matter?” he asks her, keeping it polite as mitsuki’s berating voice from his childhood reminds bakugou to respect his elders—even as the big-shot pro hero he is now.

the old woman smiles, all crows feet eyes and and wrinkles. “they’re all the places your soulmate’s meant to have kissed.”

bakugou flushes red, heat burning right up to the tips of his ears as he thumbs the honey coloured spot just underneath the right one— a kiss from his soulmate.

he ends his duties with the very thought on his mind, wondering how lucky he is to have been kissed by someone destined to be with him. katsuki discovers more than one beauty mark as he showers after patrol— one high on his shoulder, two in a funny formation on his inner left wrist. there’s another on the column of his throat, his collarbones and kirishima notices a couple laid across his back like sun spots on a bright day.

“i’ve missed you.”

you welcome katsuki home as you always do— like he’s been gone for years and you’re finally being reunited with him. even though you saw him this morning and nearly scratched his eyes out for replacing your coffee with a green tea to help your tummy ache.

he’s barely through the door as his red eyes track your movements, pupils dilating when you wrap your arms around the bulkier hero’s frame and stand up on your tip toes to press a feather light kiss to bakugou’s throat, right where a beauty mark of his lies. your lips trace upward to behind his right ear, leaving several smaller smooches along his collarbones.

they’re all the places your soulmate’s meant to have kissed.

katsuki bristles with realisation, heart shaking with tremors of love as you show him such kindness and tenderness for a man who’s outline is a little rough. he cups your face softly, not giving you a chance to back away, not wanting to let the moment go to waste and captures your lips in a searing kiss. one that pours the words he can’t always say into you, filling you with affection and adoration.

and when he pulls back, you’re happy and hazy and katsuki notices the tiny dot, the beauty mark on the cupid’s bow of your lip.

“i’ve been missin’ you all my life.” he says back, simply.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n part seven folks. Still blows my mind that people are enjoying this. Will take a little break after this chapter so bear (hehe) with me please! But these two will come back to you as soon as possible.✨🤍

warnings: the usual, past trauma, forceful behavior, mental health struggles, anxiety, fire.

Parts in cursive are glimpses to the past.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Carmen knew he was sinking. The images of his previous chef shouting at him didn't ease up. It was always there. Nagging at him. Eating at him. Putting him down and making him feel small. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. Never have what you want because you are a fuckup. A mistake.

Carmy shot up. Cold sweat dripped down his face. Mouth dry. He blinked his eyes a couple of times. Right as the doorbell rang again. His body stilled. It was already late. He had fallen asleep after he returned from the restaurant. That wasn't the plan. But he had laid down on the sofa for a moment, watching a mind-numbing show on TV. And he must have slipped into that uneasy state of slumber. The doorbell went off again. Carmy dragged a hand over his face. He thought about ignoring it. Whoever that was could fuck themselves. Until he remembered that you didn't have your keys on you, and if...

Carmy tripped over the fallen pillow as he staggered through the apartment. Towards the door. His hands were shaky as he turned the key. Yanking the door open. Chest barely managed to welcome all the oxygen he's been inhaling. Hopeful. Lightheaded. And then nothing. And suddenly, there's not enough oxygen. And his shoulders slumped. And he felt tired from that sprint he just had. He felt heavy. The light tingle in his eyes was dying.

"What do you want, sugar?", he sighed. Standing in the doorway, feeling fatigued from that one, single sentence alone. "That's one way to greet your sister", Sugar grumbled, eyes on Carmy. Carmy looked like he was dragged from hell itself. Leaning against the door for support. Carmy, who looked so tired, even sleep would help. "You won't invite me in?", she asked after a while of standing in the outside hallway. Carmy was barely a human. The last thing he needed was someone barging in.

Yet he still stepped to the side because this is sugar, and he loves her. Mikey loved her too. The three were together against the world. Should have been. Youngest or not, Carmen always felt the need to protect her. Somehow shield her from the insanity that was their family, but it rarely worked because even with all the pleading, all the just drop it, don't ask mom that, just let her be, Nat always went head first, igniting the flames even more.

"Shit, Carm... what... where...", he catches her shocked expression as she looked around the apartment. Boxes were still everywhere. But he doubted that was what had she looking stunned. There were dirty plates all over the counter and empty boxes of freezer meals. Cans of drinks. A tea towel was on the floor. The living room looked like it usually looked when art exams were coming. Carmy had dug up everything. Every single thing that, in a way, removed him from you. Was it a mess? Yes. But it was his mess. Your mess. The mess you two made. The mess of you. It was beautiful to Carmy.

He snapped out of the trance just as Natalie reached to take one of your books that was placed right by the stove. "Don't touch it", Carmy barked almost immediately. "Carmen, this is a safety hazard", Nat groaned, and even with her brother shooting daggers at her, she still lifted the book that held a whole bunch of Monet paintings. Water lilies were glancing at the two of them innocently.

"I said leave it be", Carmen wanted nothing more than to snatch the book from Nat's hands. It felt too personal for her to hold. "Clean out the trash at least", she said, moving to turn the pages. The pages. Carmen cringed. "Put the book down, Natalie. Don't fucking mess with me right now". His voice was bitter. Cold. Demanding. He rarely used it with her. It just didn't sit well with him. But this felt as if Nat was pushing her fingers deep into the wounds that Carmy bore. Turning them as she damaged the skin tissue even more.

Natalie had stopped just watching Carmy now. The eyes were nearly watery. "I thought hanging out with Claire was good for you", she muttered, and she truly couldn't have picked the worse words to say. That name alone now made Carmy sick. "Don't", was all he managed to say. Because it was true, he got excited about seeing her in the grocery store back then. And yeah, it felt almost made up when she popped up. She was a big part of his life back then, yes. And Carmy had thought about her when he just moved out. Even then, they hadn't been talking much. But then you walked in, and he saw no one else. There had always been these voices in his head. These nagging thoughts and Claire was one of them, but you killed them all. Wiped Carmy's head clean.

"Claire's a good...", Natalie stated, but Carmy moved forward straight away, ripping the book out of her hands before pointing his finger at her. "Stop pushing her on me! All of you this time! Stop it!", Carmen barked, brushing his head over his face. "Did you ever stop and considered that I was fucking happy?". Those words made Nat bleed as well. Carmen could see the way something in her chest tightened. Her face changed. He still hoped that she had always wanted what was best for him.

"I found someone who loves... loved me, and...", to change the tense felt wrong. But Carmen wasn't sure now. Wasn't sure if you were still out there. Holding onto that little flame that was the love the two of you shared. "I always wanted what's best for you ...", Natalie muttered, eyes full of tears now, glistening in the dim light of the apartment, "Does this look like the best thing for me?"

Carmy gestured around him. Around all the mess. Around himself, "When I blow my brains out just like Miney did?" Natalie's face paled, and her hand came over her chest. She held her breath for a moment before mumbling, "Don't talk shit like that! That was just some girl....", "Some girl? She's been my whole life. She made me better. She made this world better, Natalie", the sound of Carmy's voice was nothing but a silent sob. Because no matter what he did, life constantly chose to remind him that you weren't there beside him.

"Try this," the kitchen was submerged in different smells. Some old French tunes were playing. You were sitting on a little bar stool as Carmen carefully lifted a spoon toward your mouth. You instantly leaned forward, letting the flavors hit your tongue. Eyes big when the most delightful taste filled your senses, "I would sell my kidney for this", you muttered, motioning for Carmy to give you another spoonful, mouth already open. He let out a chuckle, dipping the spoon back in, "It's not that good". You let out a gasp. "Chef, I beg to differ. That's sublime! You need to add this to your menu".

It was delicate. The act of sharing food. To some, it might seem silly and stupid, but to Carmen, it was a whole lot more important. You knew that much even back then. It was his way of saying I trust you. This is me. Now you are looking at one of the rawest forms of me. Stabbing me now and making me feel like no one would be so easy. So what will you pick? It's his way of saying I love you so much that I'm sharing a part of me that's so venerable.

Your eyes shined as you wait for another spoonful, but Carmen halted his movements. "The chef is still unsure", he says, and you narrow your eyes at him, "He would like some more convincing. How about a kiss?". You watched him for a bit, slightly taken aback by his words because Carmen was so rarely in a playful mood. A smirk spreads over your face. "And does this chef kiss all of his taste testers?" That same half-smirk curves his lips as Carmen settles the spoon in the pot. "No, only the one he really fucking likes". You lick your lip nervously, biting the side of it. "Really, really, huh?", you ask in an almost teasingly innocent manner. Carmen only nodded his head as he leans forward. "Well, then... maybe your taste tester is just as desperate for the taste of the chef's lips", and that's all it took for Carme to lean toward you. For you to catch his lips between your palms as you pulled him closer.

"And then I said... Hey? You're listening?", Sydney's voice drags you out of your head, and you nod your head quickly. Eyes fell on Luca, who was a couple of steps away, making you two dinner. His back and arm muscles moved with every delicate cut that he made. "No, I hear you, and it's... well, shit,", you breathed out. Ever since the call earlier today, you've barely let go of your phone. Marcus and Sydney were both pissed. The beef was more than likely to close. The shit was falling apart. Carmy was falling apart. If he hadn't crumbled completely already...

"It messed with Marcus a lot", Sydney's voice was barely a whisper when she said that, cautiously looking at Marcus, who had slipped out to the balcony for some fresh air. "He was... well excited, you know, and I tasted it. It was fucking great. Who even gets a doughnut almost perfect on like a fourth try?", she continued to rant. Luca lifted his head to the sound of doughnuts, and you narrowed your eyes at him. Of course, that's the first thing he subconsciously reaches for. Oh, these fucking chefs trained more insanely than Pacvlov's dogs.

Silence falls, from the little screen in front of you, you can see a lost Sydney, and oddly enough, you feel guilty. As if this was your fault all along. As if you should have thought more about your flee. "Where are you anyway? Carmy goes mental at the mention of your name", Sydney killed the silence, and suddenly you don't know what to say. The obvious thing would be to say the truth, but...

"Oh am... Just you know", you muttered, but you can tell that she didn't know. "You two broke up or something?", and it's an innocent question. She's like a kid who made an absurd comment and jabbed the grownup right where it hurt the most. You can sense that even Luca stilled.

"We didn't... well, we did..." you let out a sigh, "Complicated. I'm in Copenhagen". Sydney's eyes grow big as she brings her phone closer to her face, and you cannot help but chuckle slightly. You watched little pieces put themselves together in her brain.

"I'm at a friend's house. He answered the call. Luca. He's a baker", You weren't sure why you were explaining yourself, but then something completely different shifted through Sydney's face. "Wait, Luca? THE chef Luca from Copenhagen?", and just like that, the whole relationship drama was swept away. Your eyes met Luca's, and he was already chuckling slightly. "Of course that... it definitely doesn't mean that it's THAT Luca because, like, there must be a lot of Luca's...", and here she was, muttering and falling over her words and it's making your heart clench. That's how she talked about Carmen not long ago. How she looked at him in the kitchen—that admiration. An astonishing thrill to be able to swirl around chefs like that. "Oh yeah, scratch it. It's definitely that, Luca", your eyes fall to the screen, and you see Luca leaning over your shoulder with a gentle smile on his face as he waves at Sydney.

"Hi, it's me again. Haven't called in a couple of days, and", Carmy takes a hesitant breath, "You probably were happy with not hearing from me". Another sigh leaves his lips, "I thought about Ossobuco today. So random, right? But I... I thought about our trip to Italy". The silence this time held this anticipated moment of peace almost. "You liked that dish so much I could make it for you constantly for the rest of the month, remember?", something like an almost happy cackle leaves Carmy's lips. "I'd like to cook ossobuco for you one day again", he says, and the line goes silent.

You were puffing out the last clouds from the cigarette when Luca stepped out onto the balcony. Your phone was tossed to the side. Stains of angry tears were kissed by a light evening breeze. Luca said nothing as he sat down, his hand coming to run your thigh softly. "Penny, for your thoughts?", he said quietly, his eyes now fully on you.

"Do you remember when you came to Libby's that night?", Luca's hand stopped moving; his hand was completely still on your leg now. You could tell that he was clenching his jaw tightly. He didn't want to remember, nor did you, but he still nodded. "I was so confused and scared", you muttered. "You were pumped with shit that ass gave you and dumped for later use", Luca huffed, and you cringed at his pick for words slightly. "Libby "found me", you say air quoting the last two words. "And then he fucked her as a thank you and kept doing so for the next six months till I found out", you let out a bitter laugh. Closing your eyes to fight the stinging in your eyes "Why are you bringing this up?", Luca asked. "Because it's been playing on my mind ever since I came here," you admitted, pushing your cigarette at the ashtray before lighting a new one. "I...", you shake your head slightly, "Carmy made my head less busy ", almost in disbelief. "I was almost set, like, that's it. I found my happy ever after after all that... We will get married, he'll have his restaurant, I'll open an art gallery, and we have a kid or two or twenty, I don't know", you muttered, suddenly getting so angry almost. Not sure at who exactly, but the frustration was bubbling.

"Do you remember what Pop used to say?", Luca asked, almost as if he wasn't listening to the whole random rant you just had. "He said many things, Luca", you grunted. "Love is the best thing we as humans have the privilege to give", your frown at Luca's words. Out of everything, "You love him, bunny; he loves you considering the number of times your phone pings throughout the day", Now it's Luca's turn to shake his head as he considers his next words, "I'm not justifying his actions, but as I've been saying, you didn't listen to his side of the story, and you've always wanted and wished that someone had listened to your side back then".

The restaurant felt more and more unfamiliar to Carmy as the days went by. He was late with paying bills. His brain was buzzing with Richie and his not-so-legal ways of getting the money. The place was shit. He was surprised they hadn't been closed yet. He was short on staff. Especially after Sydeny and Marcus left. Carmy had wanted to call both of them individually. He had picked up that doughnut that Marcus was eager to show him. He picked it right off the floor and put it straight into his mouth. It was amazing. Sure, it needed a couple of tweaks to perfection, but Carmy would have served it like it was.

He hadn't told anyone about... well, whatever the situation between the two of you was. But from the way Tina was looking at him, he was convinced that at least she knew. I mean, she did say, "Ask yourself why, Jeff," and "Boy, I thought you were smarter". And telling himself that he hadn't done anything that bad seemed like such a duchy thing too. Sure, he didn't flirt, they haven't kissed, and there was nothing sexual between him and Claire. They met up a couple of times. She dragged him to one party. He chased this childhood dream with her. Oh, if I just caught onto it, maybe just maybe my family will open their eyes finally too. But Carmy made awful choices along the way.

Carmen longed for you through the days. He found himself going to the office when shit hit the fan, and he would lose track of reality. Hoping to find you there. In hope to be held in your arms. Let the chaos die down. Just the more he stepped into the office, and it was emptier and emptier.

Carmen had let everyone go home earlier. He said it was because they've done an awesome job. The truth was that he just wanted to be alone. Carmen thought about cooking something. Maybe something new, but his imagination had been so dull. Nothing felt right, no matter how hard he tried.

So Carmen opted to scrub the floors, scrub the countertops, and check through the walk-in. Until he was left there. Staring numbly at the clock. Until he reached for the pack of cigarettes before realizing, after tapping his pockets multiple times, that he didn't have a lighter at hand. So Carmy leaned in carelessly, flipping the gas stove on and trying to direct the cigarette to the flame.

Then everything happens so fast, and his mind is so tired. The fire catches the rest of the countertop. Spreading. Hot tongues licking towards Carmy. But all he hears are the same words that hunt him now. You're terrible at this. You're not good at it. Move faster. Why are you so slow? You are nothing. You're bullshit. You'll never be good enough. Do you like letting people down? You're great at that shitface. Give up. Give up. You'll never get it. But it's not his old chef. Oh no, this time it's you. You scream at him through the flames, and his irrational mind panics because you're in the flames and you're... Are you burning? So he nearly leaps forward, reaching for you. And then it's no longer the nagging voices; it's his name that Carmy was hearing over and over. Louder and louder.

And then there are hands pulling him away; Carmen being pulled behind the counter; someone is extinguishing the fire; someone is holding onto him; and someone is still calling his name. But Carme stares at the fire. "Carmen", the voice called out. Pulling at his mind. Trying to ground him. Trying to make him come to his senses. "Carm", and then gentle hands caressed his jaw, pulling his face away from the stove, and there and then Carmen was convinced that he had burned. Went straight to the flames and just burned. "Are you fucking insane? Show me your hands", but he's stunned. He's... "You're not real", he muttered, shaking his head. Doubting his eyes fully "You can't...", He doesn't believe it. Reaching out, he touches the person in front of him. Worried eyes look up at him. "Y/N...", Carmen muttered, and then it's a mantra on his lips, and he's muttering it without a single breath in. And you know you shouldn't. It's bad; it's wrong, but Carmen launched himself into your hands. Arms wrapped around your middle, and you're shaking, and he's shaking, and it feels like an illusion, like a dream you two had walked into. It's probably not real Carmen thinks. And he's waiting for you to disappear to slip past his fingers, but you don't; you're here, and he's holding onto you. And finally, Carmen takes a deep breath in, and his heart kick-starts again.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••��•

Taglist: Carmy: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit @chatitajens @azxulaa @hidingfromtex @randomhoex @hopplessdreamer @lostinheavensworld @jackierose902109 @gallaghrh @gabbycoady13 @harrysmatcha @lady-bellyn @lovejoyenjoyer @infinitelycharmed23 @royalestrellas @hanula18 @thoughtfulmoonchild911 @buckys-winter-child @arieltwvdtohamflash @simsiddy @yezzyyae @hidingfromtex @toptierbunny @rooster-bradshaws @simonsaysyasss @hannahmmarie2016 @ladygrey03 @kyushii

[batfleshh]

PLSSSS I LOVE THE SOAP X M!HYBRID! READER!!

Could you write another one one???

🥹

(Some tea, or coffee or whatever you prefer you deserve it 🍵, ☕️, 🧃 🥤)

More Soap x M!Dog Hybrid!reader

Implied continuation of this

Warnings: nsfw, life is kicking your ass, muzzles, and gay stuff, and this is kind of short

★ the events off the week that have led up to where you are currently at now:

★ On that Monday, it was supposed to be a fresh start. You had made sure the night before you would be ready to work hard that day, being ready for any mission, task, or person that would be thrown at you throughout the week. Well that’s what you told yourself, but the way you had unintentionally slammed your own tail in the door that morning made you aware this week was going to be rough.

★ The pain eventually faded, but then it led to your hair not cooperating. So when you walked out to start your day, you felt like you looked dumb. You tried to blow off steam throughout the day, sparring with other recruits and chatting it up with everyone. You had to fill out something for the captain, but you ended up getting something wrong, leading to you being chewed out. You understood why, but it was still kind of irritating.

★ During dinner, you sat a little off to the side, Soap sitting around with the others. You didn’t wanna make a fuss about it, considering you knew, who they were. But you still felt the smallest pang of jealousy. That night when you went to clean yourself up, you ended up slamming your tail in another door, a yelp leaving your lips as the pain hit you like a truck. When you were done, you finally laid down to sleep, not being able to until the early hours of the morning. It felt like you had rested for about fifteen seconds before your door was pounded on, signaling for you to be up and out in less than five minutes.

★ The next few days when the same way, you becoming antsy with everything happening, you starting to be quite aggressive, snapping at more people than you usually do. When Soap would try to touch the top of your head, you would nip at your hand, grumbling. He stopped trying after a while, until that Friday. That Friday night, he went to touch you again, earning a quick unintentional bite to the hand. You apologized profusely, him attempting to calm you down. It wasn’t bad, but the action still made you feel horrible. After that, you just let go, tears falling from your eyes as the events that had been crashing down on you all week finally made you snap.

★ He slowly eased you to the bed, shushing you as you continued to cry to him. He listened to you rant and grumble, sniffling as your ears pressed flat against your head. He had eventually got you to calm down, you both had moved into a position with you laying on his chest, him patting your back gently. He gave you a few quick kisses on your lips, sitting himself up slowly and running his hand through your hair. Those kisses slowly turned into a make out session, Johnny grinding up against you slowly as you did it back, hips pushing down against him.

★ He kept the kiss going when he heard someone knock, choosing to ignore it. You let out soft whimpers, a little scared that person would just waltz in, not bothering to get an answer. But they never did, eventually leaving to find you both somewhere else. Soap laid you down on the bed, getting up and walking around the room, around for something. He eventually stopped when he opened a drawer, pulling out an object. He hid it behind his back, pushing your head back down onto the bed when you raised up to see what it was.

★ He eventually allowed you to raise your head up, fastening something around your head before pushing you back down. Johnny had just muzzled you, the object on your face making you whine, staring up at him.

★ “That should help ya with that bitin’ problem, pup.”, he teased, pulling you towards him. When you moved to pull at the muzzle, Soap pinned your wrists down, chuckling at the way you squirmed under him. “S all okay, doll. I’ll be sure to fuck that attitude right out of ya.” He said to you softly, asking quickly if you were okay with it all, smiling when you gave him your permission. Which is how you’re where you are now.

★ Soap didn’t even bother to lock the door, slamming his cock into you as you moan and whine underneath him. Did Johnny care if you got caught? Hell no. All he wanted was to finally relieve you of your stress, watching you unwind with his dick in you was one of his favorite sights. He continued to have your wrists pinned, your legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled. It bothered you the tiniest bit that you couldn’t kiss him, but other than that, you were fine with being muzzled. You trusted Soap enough to know when you needed it, and Johnny knew good dogs didn’t bite.

[buckymorelikefuckme]

pluvious

bucky barnes x reader

words: 912

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smüt, clothed s*ex, unprotected s*ex (don't do that), creampie.

a/n: i finally have some bucky spice on this blog!! praise be! any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

What started out as an innocent lunch date had rapidly taken a turn neither you nor Bucky expected.

He'd driven you out to a beautiful piece of land with a small pond and trees surrounding it. The area was secluded, the only sound that of birds and other wildlife chittering about. Bucky laid out a thin blanket for the two of you to sit on, placing a basket filled with tea sandwiches and fruit in one corner.

It didn't take long for the act of feeding each other to light flames of desire. You were on your back with Bucky on top of you before you even realized it.

The skies had been overcast all morning, but you hadn't thought anything of it. When you felt the first raindrop on your cheek, you startled a little. Bucky pulled away from where he was sucking a bruise on your collarbone and raised a questioning eyebrow at you.

You opened your mouth to explain, but suddenly a downpour began. You shared a brief, surprised silence with Bucky, and then you were both rushing to gather your things and making a mad dash for his car. By the time you made it there, you were soaked to the bone, giggling as he fumbled to unlock the doors.

He made quick work of tossing the basket into the floorboard, rounding the car to the back so he could open the hatch and lower the seats until they were flat. He spread out the damp quilt you were previously sitting on and gestured for you to climb in. You hadn't stopped smiling the whole time.

“Never a dull moment with you, is it?” you giggled, settling on your back as Bucky followed with a matching grin. “It's always gotta be an adventure.”

“Of course! Have to make sure I keep you on your toes, make things interesting so you’ll stick around,” he replied with a wink.

It was easy to pick up where you'd left off. Bucky kissed you, slow and sensual, so good it had your toes curling. You thanked your lucky stars you'd chosen to wear a flowy skirt, because when he attempted to undress you and himself, he'd grunted in frustration. Your sodden clothes were sticking to your skin stubbornly.

He'd settled for pushing your shirt up as high as it could go and gave the same treatment for your skirt. He nearly ripped his own shirt in his haste to remove it and you laughed when he finally freed himself of it, chucking it to the side as he hastily unzipped his jeans. He definitely wouldn't have had luck taking those off all the way, so they were shoved halfway down his thighs, along with his underwear.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes to ease the tension, then reached to slide your panties to the side so he could sink two fingers into your warm pussy.

“F-Fuck,” you gasped, legs falling open as you welcomed him in.

Only a few minutes passed with him fucking his fingers into you before you got impatient.

“Bucky, please, just fuck me,” you begged.

He didn't even try to argue. He used your wetness to lube up his cock a bit, shuffling forward to line himself up and thrusting into you, wasting no time at all.

Your moans were almost drowned out by the sound of the rain, especially since he left the hatch open. Almost, but not quite. Instead, your soft sighs, calls of his name like a prayer, and lust-filled groans mixed with the rain like a symphony in perfect harmony.

Bucky’s hips pistoned into you in the best way. His cock filled you to your absolute limit, stretching you deliciously, hitting all the right places. You grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to you. He rested his weight on his elbows, his hands gently pushing your wet hair off your face. He cradled your cheeks as he leaned in and kissed you, exhaling in bliss when your tongue met his. Your hands slid across the slippery skin of his back, desperate to just touch and feel and be as close as possible. You locked your ankles around him and held on.

“Fuck, baby. You're so tight, so warm,” he moaned, thrusting faster, harder.

You keened. “Just for you, Buck. Only for you. No one else. Never want anyone else.”

With a growl, Bucky began fucking you brutally, loving the way you cried out, voice cracking. You could feel the car shaking with his violent thrusts and the thought made you whine, had heat creeping up your neck. If anyone happened upon this area, not only would they be able to see the movement of the car, but they'd hear how good Bucky was fucking you.

“This pussy is mine,” he swore.

“Yes, yes, it's yours, I’m yours,” you agreed quickly.

He licked his thumb then brought it down to your swollen clit. You exclaimed his name, clenching around his cock as your orgasm hit you without warning. You whimpered, whined, riding out the pure ecstasy racing through your veins. Bucky thrusted a few more times before stilling, groaning deeply as he emptied himself inside you.

The rain continued pouring as you both breathed heavily in each other’s space. Bucky trailed soft kisses up your neck, mumbling praises that had you smiling bashfully.

It wasn't the original plan for the day, yet it turned out better. Much better.

[highdefhoetry]

how he cares for his mentally ill partner

cw: discussion of mental illness and symptoms, gender neutral reader, fluff

zayne immediately goes into doctor mode as soon as you tell him about your "condition". he researches your diagnosis in depth to better understand your brain and state of mind, as well as the best ways to support you. he diligently checks in on you, always asking how you're feeling and encouraging you to express what's on your mind so you don't get in the habit of bottling things up. nothing you share will ever scare him, even the more "frightening" thoughts you experience. when something's wrong, he does everything in his power to make it right, whether that's hounding your pharmacy to make sure your refills are ready or reminding you when it was time to take your medication. when you have bad mood swings or depressive episodes, he listens to you without judgment, gazing softly into your eyes with nothing but kindness in his own. if you ever lash out at him, he doesn't take it personally. he reassures you as many times as you need, even if it gets repetitive. you will always have your doctor in your corner.

rafayel is a bit confused when you first tell him about your mental illness. he doesn't understand when you say "something is wrong with your brain", because to him, your mind is perfect. he acknowledges your unique struggles, but insists that you are much more than a medical diagnosis or symptoms of an illness. you aren't broken, you aren't too much. you're his beloved, and he is determined to love every part of you, even this so-called "dark" side. he wants to know everything about the way your mind works so that he can be a better partner, whether that's learning your triggers to prevent you from having episodes or figuring out what kind of reassurance you need to feel safe with him. he may get upset sometimes when you lash out at him, but when that happens, he'll remind you that no amount of depression, anxiety, or psychosis will stop him from loving you. you will never have to fear being abandoned again.

xavier doesn't fully understand your condition, but he can relate to your feelings of anxiety and depression. having struggled with those emotions himself, he empathizes with you deeply in a way most other people can't. he never judges or blames you for lashing out; his laid back personality and gentle demeanor help ground you when you feel like you're falling apart. however, he does get upset when you hide your struggles and aren't honest with him about how you feel. you can trust him; you no longer have to bear such heavy burdens on your own. when he can't be there physically, he'll encourage you to self soothe by buying you bubble bath soap or sleepytime tea to relax your nervous system. when he is around and you happen to have an episode, he holds you until the tears subside, wiping them from your cheeks after you've finished crying against his chest. he hates seeing you this way, so he'll do anything to ease some of your pain.

[moonstruckme]

Omg I have another weird request. So I get really bad gas bubbles in my tummy, like to the point of curling up and crying. So what helps is tummy rubs. Can you do a cute thing with doctor remmy since he would know this and like not even care about the burps or toots 🫣🫣 it’s so embarrassing but it happens all the time mostly after I eat and I just want comforting hands of doctor Remus 🥺💕

Thanks for requesting love!

cw: stomach pains, mention of gas bubbles, and implied belching and passing gas

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 618 words

You hear Remus come home, but you can’t make yourself call out a greeting. You’re curled up on the couch, using the butt of your palm to try and push out the pain and gritting your teeth through the largely unrewarding process. You turned on the TV when you first laid down, but you can’t focus on it enough to distract yourself. 

“Dove?” Remus’ voice moves from the kitchen into the living room, his footfalls quiet. Then he’s towering over the back of the couch, concern a line between his brows. It digs in when he sees you. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“Hi, honey.” His voice stretches with a weighty compassion. He rounds the couch to sit by your feet, hand landing atop your curled legs. “Stomach bothering you again?” 

You hum miserably. This is the worst kind of pain, in your opinion. Not harsh or biting, but buried deep, throbbing and tender like a bruise. 

“C’mere,” Remus says, scooting closer to you and worming his hand in between your stomach and your thighs. 

“Sorry,” you say, voice nearly breaking on a sob. He’s only just gotten home from work, and you’ve already given him a task he didn’t ask for. It’s hardly a sexy thing to come home to.

“Don’t be,” he replies softly, sliding his hand underneath yours on your belly. You slip yours out to let him work. 

Remus’ hands are slightly cold from the chill outside, but they warm quickly, gentle but resolute as he applies a careful pressure to the bubbles inside your stomach. He’s far kinder than you had been, easing the bubbles out rather than punishing them. His slender fingers are deft and skillful. You find yourself relaxing even before the hurt has begun to lessen. 

A belch rises up in your throat before you can warn him. You squeeze your eyes shut in mortification. “Jesus. Sorry.” 

“Quit apologizing,” Remus says, bending over you to kiss the side of your neck lightly. His hand continues to knead at your stomach with a gentle lovingness. “That’s a good thing. Does it feel better?” 

“A little.” You give him a wan smile. You wish you felt well enough to sit up and kiss him back. Your poor boyfriend hasn’t even had time to take off his scrubs; you definitely owe him a cup of tea after this, at the very least. 

“Good.” The word eases off his tongue warm and buttery, and the smile he gives you in return is just as comforting. “I can see you thinking, lovely girl. You’re feeling poorly enough, don’t torment yourself extra.” 

You cringe as another gas bubble escapes you. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet,” you say guiltily. “If I were you, my appetite would be ruined.” 

Remus hums. “Well then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re not me.” He grins, reaching up with his free hand to cup the back of your head. His thumb draws circles into your temple. “My appetite will be fine, dove. I wouldn’t be very good at my job if I was squeamish, hm? Anyway, I couldn’t eat if I knew you were hurting. Helping you helps me.”

You burp again, more of the pain tingling out of you as you finally begin to relax. “I’m writing to the Vatican,” you sigh. “You need to be considered for sainthood.” 

Remus laughs. It’s a rare, hearty sound, loud and deep and chest-tightening. You think that you’re lucky it hadn’t happened before he’d set to work on your stomach; you’re not sure your body would have been able to handle it. 

“I’m not sure I’d qualify,” he admits, considering you with his tongue stuck in his cheek, “but I appreciate the thought, dove.”

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Talks of domestic violence, talks of trauma, talks of toxic relationships and infidelity, survivors guilt, victims guilt, manipulation, family issues, smut, creampie, fluff (lol).

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Sorry for the delay on this chapter, I've had some intense writers block and didn't quite know how to finish this chapter haha, so hopefully I did it some justice finally. Enjoy <3

Chapter 9: Eye of the storm 

You didn’t know what to expect after your argument turned ‘talk’, if you could call it that, with Aemond the night before. Nor did you know how to react when you woke that morning and saw, much to your dismay, that the kitchen was empty.

There was no steaming tea waiting for you like there had been usually, nor was there the presence of your brooding roommate. It didn’t help that when you ventured to the kitchen expecting to see your mug and your tea perfectly made for you, that it was not there, and your heart felt a twinge of pain. 

You had to reason with yourself that he needed space. Time. And that perhaps he had taken you up on your encouragement to think about his actions before he went to sleep. And if you were really lucky, which you hoped you were with some bitter spite, he may have even stayed awake all evening, staring up at the ceiling the entire night and was now having to catch up on the sleep he hadn’t got. 

But that wasn’t the case. 

Because Aemond’s door was wide open, and when you opened the dishwasher to check, there you saw a singular mug inside, the tiniest of coffee drips sliding out of the mug and over the rack. 

Aemond was awake. 

Aemond wasn’t home. 

And Aemond had made himself coffee, and not you.

But you questioned yourself if you would have made tea for someone after an argument. Then you remembered, that yes, you had. And yes, you would again.

But Aemond wasn't you.

Had you pushed him too far?

Was bringing up his childhood something you shouldn’t have done?

These thoughts tumbled through your mind as you made your tea and readied yourself for the work day.

The morning went by slowly. When you were ready, you left for work and spent the entire day biting at your lips and fingernails in anxiety at the thought of when you would come home to the nightmare that you had a hand in creating. 

Thankfully for you, Larys was off sick, or off site, or whatever Jasper had told you; you had barely been listening. Barely even been present as you skimmed through your emails and went through the motions of your tasks mindlessly, mind on one thing and one thing only.

Him.

When you got home the apartment was empty which you had expected. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt though. 

Perhaps he went to go stay with one of his friends? 

Or maybe he was out on one of his many jogs? Or doing whatever else he did during the day that you were not privy to. 

So you settled for your made up alibis, and slid into the kitchen, playing some soft music, though just soft enough in the hopes of being able to hear him come home, and began to cook your dinner.

But by the time you had cooked, and eaten, and bathed, and crawled into bed, it was nearing midnight and still Aemond had not come home. 

You laid in your bed, and stared up at the roof for what felt like forever, looking at the ceiling medallion, trying to ease your mind and not have thoughts of the illusive man that was Aemond running amuck in your mind. But no matter what you did, no matter how many videos you watched on your phone, or memes you cracked a smile at, you still could not find rest. 

Sighing loudly, you checked the time.

3am. 

Fuck.

Thinking that a cup of tea might help you to settle, you threw back your sheets and climbed out of bed, leaving your phone on charge as you moved blindly through your room in the dark, and out to the kitchen. 

The lights were off in the apartment, and only the softest of orange glows from an outdoor street lamp came through the bathroom window. The rest of the apartment was bathed in black, barest hints of moonlight streaming in through the kitchen. 

Silver hair caught the light of the moon and thus your attention, and you watched as a small red ember grew in size with the inhale of Aemond’s cigarette. 

Aemond, it seemed, could not find sleep either.

He stood in the kitchen, just as sleepless as you, black shirt thrown over grey sweats as he leant against the kitchen windowsill, blowing smoke outside with each drag.

His silver tresses of hair glimmered, reflecting the light, as though each strand had been made of moonlight itself.

You watched as his lips pursed to take another drag, tilting his head towards you as and indication that he had noticed your presence. But it wasn't for you. He did not greet you, nor did he turn his head to face you, staying still as he was, looking out into the night.

With soft steps, you made your way over, flicking on the kettle to boil some water, quietly pulling down a mug, then thinking about it for a moment, and reaching for a second, grabbing some chamomile tea bags for the both of you putting them in the cups.

The sound of the kettle was loud in your ears as you waited for it to boil, shifting on your feet awkwardly as you watched Aemond finish his cigarette, twisting the end on the outside of the brickwork, leaving the butt on the sill. 

You watched in the corner of your eye, as he rolled another with deft fingers and a precision that you admired secretly. 

When the kettle had boiled, you poured the water over the tea bags, picking one up, to hand to him. You averted your eyes, looking down to where his long fingers held the cigarette in his pointer and middle, wordlessly handing him the mug. 

It hovered between you for a moment, arm outstretched as Aemond looked at it. Time moved slowly as he did not reach for the tea, and for a moment, your heart sank, disappointment settling in your gut as the weight of the mug became heavier and heavier.

As you were about to pull it back admitting defeat, Aemond reached a slender hand, grasping the boiling hot mug from its sides, which would have no doubt burnt at his palm hotly. He didn’t thank you or nod his head in appreciation, not that you were looking to see, but instead, he placed the mug on the sill, picking up the lighter with the other hand as he moved to light the cigarette between his lips. 

You grabbed your mug and leant against the kitchen bench on the opposite side of the window with him, looking out into the darkness, barely registering the buildings more than 10 metres away. 

Anything to not look at him. 

To not ruin the perfectly calm moment that the two of you had reached in that moment. 

Finally in the eye of the storm. 

You brought your mug up to your lips, blowing the steam from the top, the smell of chamomile wafting around you. You sipped at the brew, feeling the heat travel down your throat and settle into your stomach warmly. 

You refused to speak first. 

Or to say anything at all really. 

Not wanting to push him again, to ruin the calm that settled between you, to then end up with the both of you, red faced and shaking with anger. You didn’t trust yourself to not explode, nor did you trust his ability to speak to you in a way that wasn’t patronising.

If Aemond wanted to speak, he would speak, and if not, you were content to sit in this silence to at least show that you could listen, would listen, if he so dared to open his mouth.

To show that you were willing to be around him despite his shitty behaviour. 

Smoke billowed from his lips, and the cigarette that was held delicately, yet almost even carelessly between two fingers, was shifted out towards you. You looked down at it, for one beat, then two, before placing your mug of tea down to grasp the cigarette from him. 

Warmth spread through your arm as your fingertips brushed over his, butterflies erupting in your chest, but you shoved that feeling down quickly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips to inhale. You took a drag, feeling the smoke sink into your lungs before you blew it out quietly, feeling the rush of it go to your head. 

“I thought about what you said.” Aemond finally breathed into the night, voice quiet and shy.

Your eyes lifted to look at him. His gaze was still outside as he leant forward on the window, hands clasped together, elbows on the edge of the wood. He fiddled with the signet ring on his pinky, turning it side to side. 

Bringing the cigarette up to your lips again you took another drag, letting Aemond have the space to talk, and also using the smoke as a means to force yourself to stay quiet so that he could say what he needed to say, and then you would go to bed.

Yes, that’s what you would do. Hear him out, most likely another shithouse apology, and then go to bed angry but vindicated.

Wordlessly you held out his smoke, watching as he kept his eye lowered as he took it from your hands, mug of tea in the other, palm wrapped around the porcelain which you questioned if he enjoyed the sting, or the grounding of the pain. 

Maybe he was punishing himself.

Aemond brought the cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply and then exhaled a breath as he spoke, “And you were right.” Smoke curled under his nose as he inhaled it back inside, “But you were also wrong too.” 

You let your eyes roam his side profile, his nose long and sharp, lips pursed as he sucked at his gums, tongue rolling over the front of his teeth, thinking of the words to say next, perhaps thinking of how to apologise to you properly this time. 

“I am sorry. For what I said to you.” He apologised, true repentance on his tongue, “It wasn’t right, and you didn’t deserve that. I know you’re just trying to be a good friend to Helaena by doing me a favour, and I know that you’re trying to be a friend to me.” Aemond inhaled slowly, bringing up the cigarette to take another drag, “But like I tried to say, these things don’t come easy to me.”

Despite his apology, there was still his lingering attitude in the way he spoke, the words he had chosen. The way he conducted himself, as though he was angry that he had been called out, or that he had to be a better person to you.

You chewed at your cheek, not wanting to respond just yet, holding out your fingers towards him as he handed you the cigarette. 

Another brush of hands. 

You held the filter in your fingers, turning the cigarette softly as silence fell over the two of you.

Aemond brushed an uneasy hand through the front of his hair, large hand sliding down his neck as you watched his eyelashes flutter, up, down, but never once looking at you. 

As though he couldn’t bare to face you. 

He inhaled sharply, bare foot tapping on the tiled floor in irritation, “I know you think you know what happened between me and Alys, but Helaena doesn’t even know the whole of it. I-“ Aemond paused, swallowing thickly, “It’s not been easy these past few months without her, not that it was ever easy.” He sadly scoffed, adjusted his weight on his legs, “But she’s been trying to get back with me, texting, calling, and I don’t- I don’t know… I think it’s finally caught up to me what happened.”

You handed the smoke back, sipping your chamomile tea, enjoying the burn that it gave you, and also the way that it calmed your nerves, giving you something to focus on rather than the way that Aemond seemed to begin to curl in on himself, taking every fibre of your being to not reach out and comfort him. 

He chanced a glance at you, and stooped over the window, bent from the hips, his eye line was below yours, and so he had to look up at you through his lashes, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

Aemond brought the smoke to his lips, holding it there for a moment, before he began to speak, fingertips resting over his mouth as he spoke, “It wasn’t always bad, but she was much older,” He shifted again uncomfortably and you mirrored his action, “And I was too young and naive to see the truth of it.”

You hadn’t expected this.

Hadn’t expected Aemond to open up to you about Alys, something that had been clearly affecting him as of late. 

Aemond sighed in a breath and you watched as he began to turn his signet ring with his thumb again, eye watching to motion carefully, methodically twisting it in sets of three. 

Twist, twist, twist. Pause. 

Twist, twist, twist. Pause.

“She was one of my tutors at KLU,” Aemond explained, and you felt your stomach drop, "It wasn’t- it started innocently enough. Lessons here and there, but then she- Well I… It felt good to be wanted. Felt good to have something that no-one could take from me. Not Viserys, not my brother, not- But then someone found out, and Alys said that we needed to leave KLU so that we could be together.”

Your lips parted in shock, watching as Aemond shook his head, taking a frustrated drag of the cigarette, ash falling from the end onto the sill which he swiped away with a finger agitatedly, “So I stopped my degree, left KLU, and went to Harrenhal with her. At first it was easy, perfect. I was so in love with her, but then she kept pushing the idea of having kids, of getting married.”

Married.

Kids.

“At first I was excited,” His eye flicked onto you, a sad smile pulling downwards on his lips, “Who doesn’t want to hear from the love of their life that they want to settle down? But then she kept asking about Viserys, and the law firm, and inheritance.” He spat, “And I knew, I knew that she was using me… But I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t. I loved her.” 

A twinge of empathy rolled through you.

How could you have been so blind to this?

“So I stayed, and it just got worse.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to say that you were sorry, to comfort him, but Aemond shook his head at you, watching as the words stuck in the back of your throat, “She started seeing other people,” Your mouth went dry, your own understanding of how he must of felt settling in your chest painfully, “And at first she kept it a secret, but then she did it more openly.”

You had the sudden desire to wring his ex’s neck.

Aemond’s eye narrowed as he spoke bitterly, looking down to his hand again where he twisted the ring more agitatedly, twist, twist, twist, pause, “Would taunt me about it. Fuck them in our bed. Would tell me I needed to ‘man up’ if I wanted to stay with her, told me I needed to be better for her, do better.” Aemond sighed, taking the last drag of the smoke, clearing his throat, “We were together for years, and she was all I knew. I didn’t-“

How could she have done this to him?

How could anyone have done anything like this to a person?

It was cruel. Inhumane. Horrible. And suddenly, the way Aemond behaved, his insecurities about Cregan, his jealously and refusal to let you get close began to make more and more sense.

You watched as his adams apple bobbed in his neck, “I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t want to leave. Because when she was good, she was amazing. She was everything I wanted, everything I thought I deserved. Everything she made me believe I wanted. But when it was bad, it was…” Aemond trailed off, words caught in his throat, emotion beginning to boil over, "We would fight all the time. She would break things, cuss me out, tell me I was pathetic.” He swallowed again, voice quieter, “Hit me… And I was just an idiot in love who stood there and took it.”

Your chest ached painfully and you felt tears pull in your eyes.

Aemond.

You frowned, “You weren’t an idiot,” You said quietly, “You were in an abusive relationship, Aemond.”

The Targaryen blew air sharply through his nose, “I knew it was toxic and yet I stayed. Hoped it would get better. Waited for her to see that I was the only one she needed. That I could be good for her. Be better. I just- I thought we could be happy, like she promised. She was my first- And I-“ The silver haired man cleared his throat to sip at his tea.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered to him, tears threatening to spill over, “I am so, so sorry, Aemond. You didn’t deserve that.”

“I don’t want your pity,” He said quietly back, ego wounded, lingering pieces of denial and pain preventing him from being more vulnerable than he was, preventing him from letting anyone to see him as a victim, "I don’t want you apologising to me either. I deserved it.”

Your heart raced in your chest, “You didn’t-“

“-Could you for one second in your life not make excuses for me? I don’t want you to- I don’t- I feel-“ Aemond paused, not sure how to find the words, not sure how to move forward, and so you gave him a different path.

“How did you leave?”

The signet ring tapped loudly against his mug of tea.

Tink. Tink. Tink.

“Mum called, told me Viserys was sick, it looked bad at the time,” You noted how he called his dad by his first name, “I didn’t know how to feel about it. I was… lost. And Alys didn’t even care. Didn’t care that my… father… was sick. Didn’t care that he was dying. I stopped my studies for her, I left everything behind for her. Friends. Family. Everything. And she didn’t even care. She just asked how much I would inherit, asked if I would get the law firm. She- she didn’t- she just-“

Your hand lifted before you could stop it, setting it against his shoulder gently. Aemond’s entire body bristled, as though your touch had sobered him up, and you watched in disappointment as the brick walls began to build behind his eye again. 

“That’s horrible. Really, you didn’t deserve any of that. Your partner is supposed to love and support you. Listen to you. Be there for you. I’m sorry that you were so alone.” You empathised, “She sounds ho-“

“-Don’t.”

Even in his weakest of moments, even when in times of pain or reminiscing on the abuse, Aemond still would not let anyone say anything about Alys.

The good, the bad, or the ugly. 

It was his to talk about. 

And his alone.

“I know,” He continued, looking at your carefully, his silver lashes brushing against his cheeks as he momentarily looked down at your hand on his shoulder, and then back up at you. 

The way he gazed at you made your chest constrict, “-I know that you probably don’t care about this,” You shook your head and Aemond sighed inwardly, “But I needed to tell you. To explain. I don’t want sympathy, or for you to make excuses for me. You said-... I listened to what you said. I'm trying, Y/n. In the only way I know how.”

You let your thumb rub his shoulder soothingly before you stepped towards him, your shoulder brushing his as you both looked out the kitchen window into the dark of the night, a blanket of quiet enveloping around the two of you, only this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

If he was sharing, then you would too.

“I caught Jason cheating on me with his now girlfriend, I think I told you that once. Caught them in our bed together, and he blamed me for it.” You breathed, lifting the tea to your lips, finding your mouth suddenly dry, “It wasn’t the first time though. But it was the last time. I knew he had a reputation but I ignored it. Fools in love, you know?”

Aemond nodded his head and huffed a quiet, bitter laugh.

“He was just so charming, and when I met him on campus, all the girls chased him, but he chose me. And it made me feel special, to have him choose me like that over them. Such a stupid pick me moment now that I look back at it." You scoffed quietly, "I think I was just so caught up on actually being desired… I know now that he didn’t. He was still sleeping with them, but still. I get what you mean about staying, hoping for better. I mean- I obviously- He never- He didn’t physically-“

“-It’s okay. I know what you mean.” Aemond reassured you, and you felt your heart quieten from its speeding pace.

You continued, “But I was never isolated. I was never alone. I had my friends. I had Hel. And if we are truly being as candid as I think we are being right now, I had a family who was there to support me, which I feel that you perhaps didn’t.” You looked down at your mug, watching the way the teabag shifted in the cooling water, Aemond’s gaze on you.

He lifted the cup to his lips and drained the last of the dregs of tea before settling it on the window sill, eye cast to the dark, then back to you, then out to the dark again in contemplation. 

“I heard Cregan tell you about what happened to me.”

Anxiety and regret poured through you. 

What else had he heard?

“Viserys had always been sick.” He explained, and you knew this already from what Helaena had told you, “Growing up, he was always at the doctors and the specialists, and was never really there. But in all honesty, I don’t think, even without the illness, that he would have been there. He-“ Aemond fiddled with the ring on his finger, family insignia pressed into its centre.

Twist, twist, twist, pause. “He never really got over his first marriage. Never got over the death of his first wife, Aemma. And I think,” You watched him lick his lips, “I think mum was a convenience to him. They married for convenience. She was more caregiver than wife… I mean, he loves her. I know he does. But he could have done more. And he never really paid attention to me and Aegon. Helaena he adores, but even then, their relationship is strained, not what it should be.”

Helaena often told you about her want for their father to spend more time with the boys, but he seemed to never have much interest in them. Not once giving Aegon, Aemond or Daeron the praise they needed, and only ever being cynical in their achievements, stating that they could be doing more, or that they were doing not enough. 

This of course led to the way Aegon came to be the way he was. 

Aemond chewed at his bottom lip, “A few years back I went to visit him. And mum. Went with Hel and Aegon. Daeron couldn’t come because of his studies. But we went together, a united front, and I just- I had this child’s hope that he would see me. But he was barely lucid on painkillers that he didn’t even know who I was. But he remembered Rhaenyra.” His voice got darker, resentment and anger and sorrow swirling on the tip of his tongue, “Said to her, in front of all of us, ‘My only child’.”

Your mouth gaped open. 

Aemond spared a glance at you and shook his head, laughing bitterly, “Aegon laughed, but you could tell it stung, being the eldest boy and all. He just laughed and then drank himself into a stupor. Hel was quiet, and I-“ He rolled his shoulders back, “I just left. I don’t know what I was expecting.” 

His voice shifted, brows furrowing as his lips twitched at the sides, pulling into a tight flat line. It was an attempt to not sneer as clear as day, “But Rhaenyra, she tried. She tried to say we were there, tried to explain to him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her defend us like that, but it was no use. It was too late. We didn’t grow up together, we didn’t have that kind of bond. I know mum had a play in it. And after the incident, I guess it was just better for all of us that we parted ways."

You nodded, knowing all too well about this.

“When I lost my eye, it was an accident.” Aemond’s voice got quieter as his fingers traced the scar on his cheek and brow in memory, “And Cregan told you the rest, but he doesn’t know about what happened after. I had no-one.” He breathed, and you felt yourself shifting closer to him, hoping your presence would give the man some sort of comfort for the words that seemed to continue to spill forth from his lips in an endless stream of cathartic release. Thoughts and feelings that he had told you had not even been uttered to his sister. 

“Mum was so hellbent on taking Rhaenyra to court that she didn’t stop or spend time with me when I was recovering in hospital. The only person there was Criston, and that was because mum made him. Hel, Aegon and Daeron went back to school, and I stayed in the hospital alone. I can’t- I don’t-”

Aemond swallowed, eye shutting as he stood to his full height, “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

Anxiety wound a coil in your gut.

Had he said too much?

Does he regret speaking to you?

Would he go back to being cold again? Quieter?

Your hand shot out before you could stop it, grabbing his larger one in your own. You watched as Aemond flinched slightly, hand flexing before it relaxed in yours. You soothed his knuckles with your thumb, anchoring him to the spot with you.

You swallowed, “Come to bed.” You said quietly, watching as his face moved through a myriad of emotions. 

Shock, confusion, anger, and then finally, disgust.

“You think I want to f-“

“-No!” You said loudly, realising the accidental implication, before you lowed your voice again, “No. No, I- Just lay with me. Nothing else. I-“ You swallowed, “I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Aemond blinked at you softly, his face falling, “I’m always alone.” He whispered.

Your heart tugged in your chest. 

You squeezed his hand gently, “You don’t need to be.”

The air around you shifted, Aemond staring down at you as you held his hand in the dark of the kitchen, unspoken words floating around the two of you. But in that moment, you didn’t need to say a thing.

Aemond nodded his head down at you, almost imperceptible, and your heart thumped in your chest as you led him towards your bedroom in the dark, not letting go of him until you pulled the sheets back and crawled in first, urging him to climb in after you.

If it was not for the sadness that permeated around the two of you, you would have laughed at how large Aemond was in your bed, taking up most of one side as he was on. He lay flat on his back, crossing his hand over his chest, unsure of what to do. 

You took initiative and curled up against him, lifting one of his arms over your shoulder as you settled into the heat of his side. You let one hand rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed quietly.

Aemond was stiff, unsure, uncertain, as you laid against him, lifting your hand from your chest to brush through his hair, an attempt to soothe the man with gentle strokes and repetition. You wondered briefly if Alys ever comforted him like this after their fights. After her infidelity.

You then wondered with a stray thought, if Aemond had ever been comforted ever in his life. 

His hair was silky against your palm and fingers as you brushed your hand through it, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. You heard him breathe deeply, a small groan falling from his lips, the tension in his body slowly leaking from him. 

You repeated the motion over and over, and eventually Aemond softened, his head tilting towards you in the dark of the room. Although you could scarcely see his gaze, you knew that he was watching you, only small pieces of light from the moon coming through the cracks of your curtains. 

Heat rolled over you as you felt him observing you. 

Aemond shifted in your sheets, hand coming to reach for yours in his hair, long fingers wrapping themselves around yours warmly, calloused palm rubbing over the top of your hand delicately. 

With your hand in his, he brought it away from his silver tendrils, dragging it down slowly as he looked at you in the dark, moonlight shrouded over his body, just barely illuminating him as his lips parted, pressing a kiss into the palm of your hand. Your breath stilled in your throat as he did it again, tenderly, softly, reverently, before his mouth slid upwards, bottom lip dragging against your skin, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

Aemond pressed another gentle kiss to the tips of your fingers, a bare breath of air puffing over the digits as he tilted his head, pressing another to your inner wrist, right above your pulse point. You wondered momentarily if he felt the way your pulse quickened, blood thumping in your veins against his plump lips. 

It wasn’t long until he dragged your fingertips back to his mouth, but this time, instead of the cautious and soothing kiss he had placed there before, his teeth now nipped at the pad of your pointer slowly. Not sharply with unconfined lust, but rather as if he was testing the waters, and when no argument came from your lips, nor objection to his indication to his now aroused state, Aemond leant forward towards your face, still holding your hand in his. 

His lips met the corner of your mouth, barely there, yet full of yearning. You tilted your head upwards, to give him access to you, to which he pressed a softer kiss squarely upon your lips. You felt him breathe out through his nose in a shudder, your eyes slipping closed, not that you could see much anyway, as you kissed him back, cautious, curious, letting him set the pace.

There was no rush in the way he held you, sliding your body towards him with a large palm, hand spread against your ribs and waist, fingers ever so often tensing as he began to slowly deepen the kiss. But this was different to your previous times kissing Aemond. There was no malice, no rush, no anger simmering beneath the surface with resentment and confusion of the dynamic between the two of you. 

These kisses that he pressed against your lips were slow, sensual, as though time had stopped for the two of you, and it spoke multitudes that Aemond was content to just bask in the warmth that spread between the two of you, his hand still holding yours, thumb pressed into your palm like a pressure point. 

It was a side of him you had never seen before.

And you were content to leave it at that, to just hold him and kiss him in a way that he clearly needed in that moment, not wanting to move it forward, nor push either of you to go to someplace that the previous conversation in the kitchen would deter you from. But Aemond was not as content as you had thought he was. 

His hand slid down your side, moving to cup under your ass as he dragged a leg over his side, nestling his hips between yours. You whimpered softly into his mouth as you felt his hardened length brush against your inner thigh. 

Aemond taking this as the permission he needed, began to grind up against you, lips chasing yours lazily, keeping the same slow rhythm as before, matching the pace of his hips as he ground up against you, small gasp falling into your mouth from his as his hips stuttered.

He skimmed his hand from your thigh up your body, never breaking away from your embrace as he explored your body slowly, making your body out with careful precision. Each drag of his finger over your curves stored into the back of his mind for later. 

Over the top of your sleep shirt his hand found your breast, hot air puffed through his nose as he squeezed, a mewl dripped hotly from your lips as you arched your chest into his hand.

He twinged a nipple between fingers, sending sparks through your body straight to your core, your leg dragging his hips closer to your heat as you bucked up into him, wetness pooling into your sleep shorts. 

A hand slid itself underneath your shirt, feeling the away your stomach clenched beneath it as it moved upwards, finally resting over your chest. He splayed his fingers across your skin, feeling your heart race beneath his palm. 

Your cheeks were heated, and Aemond finally broke away from the tender kiss that you had been sharing. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking to adjust in the darkness as you breathed shallowly, looking at him. 

The air around you was static, and you got the sudden urge to pull back, to retreat, that this was too intimate, that you were showing too much of your hand to him, too much of yourself to him and what you truly desired.

As if sensing your sudden caution, the hand that held yours dragged itself down his own chest, his lips pressing into the corner of your lips before he settled your hand under his own shirt and above where his heart was. 

Beneath your palm, you felt the same erratic heartbeat that was racing through your own chest, but this time, in his. Your fingers tightened against his skin, feeling bone and muscle, and a light dusting of hair beneath, but under all of that was the undeniable truth that Aemond wanted this just as much as you did. 

Bringing your lips back to his you kissed him, both of your hands staying above each others chests warmly as you rolled your hips into his, a soft grunt coming from deep within Aemond throat. 

With slow hands, Aemond took off your pants, aiding by your own hands as you slid them down your legs, kicking them to the bottom of the bed sheets where they were lost and would be found later. He then shifted, breaking away from the embrace as he took off his own pants, followed by his shirt, awkward movements jolting the bed that you would have normally giggled at if it wasn’t for the sincerity of it all. 

And then you were back together, skin pressed against skin and anticipation buzzing through you like electricity. He held your jaw in both of his hands as he dragged you back to him, one hands fingers curling into your hair at the nape of your neck. 

You were lost to his touch, growing dizzy from desire as he dragged your leg over his hip once more, slotting his hips against you. You felt his hard length brush against your folds, your chest pressing into him as you breathlessly whined into his mouth. Your hands slipped around his shoulders as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Aemond tilted his head, resting his forehead against yours. 

Hot air puffed against your lips as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, capturing his lips with yours once again as he took a hand to drag between the two of you, parting your folds in test to see if you were wet enough, and also to help guide his length blindly to your sopping centre. 

Aemond pushed into you with one long and slow thrust, a sharp inhale sucked into the both of your chests, mouths opened as you paused from your kiss, lips still brushing against each other as you felt his length fill you completely.

His cock stretched you out thickly, his chest brushing against yours with every restrained breath he took. 

Blood rushed in your ears, your pulse quickening as he pulled back, dragging his cock through your folds before back up inside of you. Your leg over his hip dragged higher as you pulled him closer, giving him a better angle to reach deeper within you. 

The tip of his length brushed over every inch within you, a dreamy sigh falling from your lips as you nipped at Aemond’s mouth. He repeated the motion, slowly pushing his hips up into yours before dragging them backwards, leaving just his tip inside of you before he would plunge back inside. 

You both pulled away from your kiss, foreheads pressed against each other as you breathed and whined, emotion pouring from him, his shoulders still tensed beneath your arms. 

You tried to soothe him, running your fingers along the nape of his neck experimentally pressing into the thick cords of muscle at the back, at times rewarded by a small mewl from him before you settled to just tug lightly at his hair.

His thrusts never sped up, keeping the same restrained pace as heat bloomed in your stomach.

All that could be heard was the wet of your folds as he dragged himself through them and the pleasure that sang from the both of your lips. 

The coil within you began to wind, and following his actions from earlier, you pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Aemond’s hips stuttered, and as he fucked into you sensually, all emotion and passion. You could feel the sadness that permeated from him, that creeped under his skin and into yours with every thrust or breathy whine. Your heart ached as you felt it, but you knew that this was what he wanted. That this was how he wanted to be comforted, that this was what he had chosen, and so you praised him as he sought his pleasure, and aimed to bring you to yours. 

“So good.” You gasped against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to his plump and bitten raw lips as you carded your hands through his hair softly, “Making me feel so good.”

A low whine escaped his chest, and you felt his length within you throb. 

Your own coil was increasingly winding with every shift of his hips, every drag of his cock against the pleasurable spots within you, and the meeting of the soft dusting of curls at the base of his cock that brushed against your bud with every thrust. 

“You feel so good, Aemond.” You praised huskily, cupping a cheek in your hand as you felt his thrusts finally begin to quicken, their steady pace crumbling from your praise and his nearing release. 

His lips crashed into yours, desperate groan rumbling in his chest as a hand moved to wrap itself under your ass, pulling you closer, length pressing inside of you to its limit, spreading you wider apart on his length as he plunged inside. 

The shift caused sparks to erupt in your gut, “‘M close.” You softly whimpered, “Want you to cum.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, his forehead pressed to your own as he quickened his pace.

“Please.” He trembled in your arms, hand splayed on the globe of your ass gripping the flesh tighter. 

But no matter how close he got to his peak, he didn’t push himself over the edge and you could feel it. 

He was waiting for you. 

Waiting for your encouragement, waiting for your pleasure. But in that moment, you knew that Aemond needed it more than you. You would give him the permission he needed to hear.

“Let go.”

Aemond came with a shattered cry, hips stuttering into yours as he rode out his release, hot ropes of warmth flooding your core as you cooed him softly, brushing hair away from his forehead as you kissed his scarred cheek.

“So good.” You cooed quietly, “So beautiful.”

His body rippled as he pushed himself to his limit, hips pressed snugly against yours as he puffed breaths of hot air against your cheek. His head dipped down to where your neck meets your shoulder, stomach intermittently clenching at the aftershocks, your wet warmth still gripping him tightly.

Your heart raced in your chest as Aemond pressed lips to the junction of neck and shoulder, kissing softly, air puffing against your skin from his nose. You dragged your hands up and down his back soothingly, feeling goosebumps erupt from his skin, a soft whine pressed into your shoulder. 

His cock twitched inside of you, causing a breathless sigh to fall from your lips, pleasure still settled within you. Aemond’s head lifted from the crux of your neck, eye finding yours in the darkness. 

“You didn’t finish.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. 

You chuckled softly, careful to make it known that you weren’t laughing at him, “I don’t need to.”

His brows furrowed at you, and you smoothed at them with a thumb. 

Aemond shifted, dragging his length from within you, mewling whimper escaping your lips as every vein and ridge dragged through your walls deliciously. But instead of Aemond pulling out, he pushed right back inside, fire erupting over your skin as your breath hitched. 

He bit his lip, overstimulated but wanting to bring you to your peak as he slowly fucked into you again, dragging his tip over the soft spongey spot inside of you with precision. He pushed all the way in to the hilt, his tip pressing into your cervix as you moaned desperately, fingers digging into the skin of his back as you gripped him to you. 

You could feel his spend dripping out of you, stickiness coating your thighs and his sack which were pressed against you tightly. 

Aemond dragged a hand down your body disappearing between your thighs as he gathered some of his cum up to your clit, swirling his thumb around it softly in circles. You moaned softly, breasts pressing into his chest as he held you to him, not moving his cock, but using it to keep you full of him, feeling your walls twitch and spasm around him as he brought you to your peak with a sudden cry. 

Your walls gripped him tightly as he hissed, slowing his thumbs movements to drag you through your release until you whined that it was too much.

Your body felt like jelly, unable to move, content to just lay in his arms, cock softening inside of you. 

And so that’s what you did. 

Neither of you uttering a word as to what had just happened, nor a whisper of what had been said, both laid in the dark, legs intertwined, the warm glow of your peaks settling over you as your hearts raced within your chests.

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