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targaryenrealnessdarling · 7 months

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These Tender Hearts Beat as One

Aemond x widowed!female character

Summary: Aemond reunites with his childhood friend, a former ward of his mother || Word Count: 7k || Warnings: too much fucking backstory lol, p in v sex, breeding kink

Aemond could always tell when his mother was stressed. Out of all her silver-haired children, her second son had seemed the most adept at knowing before she even knew herself. All that remained was for him to discover the root of her worries, and calm her ever-heightening nerves if he could.

When Aemond was stressed, angered or oftentimes merely bored, nothing truly compared to the feeling of riding Vhagar, splitting through the air above King’s Landing to stretch her large, tattered wings. His beloved dragon appreciated the exercise in any case, restless from her days fought in wars, it was some consolation for him that flying was just as therapeutic for her as it was for him.

But when his dear mother was stressed, it was rooted in self-destruction, picking ceaselessly at her fingernails ‘til they were bloody and sore. And though he bit his tongue, not wishing to replicate the behaviour of his grandfather, sometimes it felt near impossible not to say anything, not to ask what was on her mind. So that whatever was swirling around her head with panic, could instead be shared out, and therefore less weight for her to carry.

Had Aegon done something perhaps?

Was there more trouble with Rhaenyra?

Or perhaps his father had said something to upset her, which seemed the most likely. Even in his sickly state, he was still capable of unknowing cruelty.

Even at five and ten, Aemond understood this.

His mother remained quiet, and it was not ‘til he sought out the company of his dear friend, that the truth became clear.

She had been his mother’s ward for little more than three years, and already Aemond had witnessed her enter the Keep as a clumsy, loud child and blossom into what many would consider a young woman already grown, though she was little older than Helaena.

Her age in comparison to him had never once strained their friendship. In fact, at first, when Aemond was still freshly scarred emotionally by the trauma of losing his eye, he had remembered clapping his lone eye on her and scowling, thinking of her little more than a quarrelsome child.

And, as Aegon had put it, ‘aggressively annoying’.

Which, at the time, was true enough. And yet it did not deter her from trying, Aemond would allow her the compliment of that.

She was much like him, a child created and born as a sort of secondary plan in case the first did not come to pass. A mere second daughter, and not only that, but bumped even further down the chain by her three older brothers, the eldest already wed with several children of his own. It was made abundantly clear by her own parents that she was merely another nuisance and therefore when placed into the care of the Targaryen royal family, the look of relief on their faces somewhat angered him, coupled by the manner in which they left with a goodbye that rivalled his own father’s attitude towards his children.

His empathy for her situation had drawn him to her, despite his stubbornness in wanting to pretend he did not crave friendship, especially from a girl. And her own stubbornness surprised him when he discovered she did not blindly seek the acceptance of any similar-aged child, she set her sights on Aemond alone and did not relent until eventually, he came to her instead.

He found a camaraderie with her that he had yet to find with his other siblings, feeling very much like friendship with her was more natural and spontaneous, where the ones with his family were calculated, planned and rooted in a cold necessity to keep up appearances.

Not that she cared much for appearances.

Her Septa berated her for what seemed like every other day for turning up to her needlepoint lessons with dirtied skirts and stray petals in her tangled hair, all from chasing one another through the bushes of the Keep to find some entertainment. Yet, even in the face of punishment, her smile never faltered, and insisted that it was all a bit of fun.

She somehow managed to inject her bright personality into his otherwise darkened life.

Because of her, there was beauty in everything. There was serenity in sitting in the Godswood and watching the petals settle in the breeze that ran past his neck and made him shiver. There was a startling allure when he introduced her to Vhagar for the first time and her hand ran across her darkened scales, seeing her expression lift in sheer wonder, experiencing her bewilderment as if it were the first time. And there was virtue in the innocence of their relationship, and how his heart began to swell with a childlike sense of belonging in her.

The unconditional power of her friendship he was sure was all he ever needed. In the way she always uttered, dragged away for her lessons in etiquette, but beaming at him.

‘My friendship is always yours,’ she would say, like a mantra.

‘Just as mine shall always be.’

He thought for a long while that he was the most hideous person in this world, not least since Aegon had dragged him to the brothels only a few years before. And yet when he shared a chaste kiss with her under the Weirwood tree. Clumsy and impractical and yet all magical all at once, he thought that when he was older, stronger, he would ask her to be his wife.

Aemond could feel the anxiety seeping off her as soon as he stepped into her chambers. Like she had a lot on her mind but not the courage to open her mouth and say it.

“What is it?”

His heart lurched into his chest when she lifted her head, swallowing her feelings and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“My sister has succumbed to a fever. She is dead.”

Aemond sighed, as if absorbing her grief. But when he took one step forward to comfort his friend, she shook her head, “there is more.”

Her tone of voice alone was enough to set every nerve on edge. Aemond stood as if stuck to the flagstone floor, and realised that the once clumsy, small girl he had once known was acting very much like a young woman now. Worlds apart, despite being stood before her.

“I am to honour the planned betrothal with Lord Lefford, under my father’s orders.”

It was the only moment Aemond remembered wanting to vomit with nausea, he had not felt such churning in his gut even on the day he lost his eye.

She sat, looking at him as if to gauge his reaction to the news, knowing perhaps in her own heart the feelings that were shared between them. And Aemond felt his churning nausea turn to anger, at how easily she had allowed her will to be broken by a command from her father, which in his opinion, she need not obey. She was, after all, a near half a decade younger than her sister, and the man in question older than her own father.

How could she have given up like this so easily.

“You will go through with this?”

He did not mean for his tone of voice to appear accusatory, but when he saw that wide-eyed helpless expression, he knew immediately it had.

“I can hardly argue with my father, Aemond.”

He felt his fists clench hard in his hand, fingernails creating crescent shaped indents in his flesh that reddened, his reply is stiff, “you simply act as if you have no choice in the matter.”

“Not all of us get one.”

“You cannot leave.”

“I must,” she insists, her voice breaking somewhat at the look of disappointment and betrayal on his face, “please do not make this more difficult than it already is, Aemond.”

“I am not the one making this difficult,” he replies flatly, his head throbbing with an incoming migraine, “If you are as much my friend as I am yours, you will not leave me.”

She could feel herself stepping towards him, drawn by some invisible force for comfort that he was not yet providing. She knew he could be capable of being cruel, but to be on the receiving end after all they had gone through was heart-breaking.

And though she was a year his senior, standing so small before him, she felt so much a child.

“Aemond, please-” she begged, reaching out for him and wincing when he pulled away, his brows drawn together in disgust.

“Marry him and I shall never speak to you again.”

Her hand dropped to her side as if limp, as if all life had drained from her body as well as the colour from her face. Her lip quivered, “you can't mean that.”

He looked in her eyes, the raw grief of watching her slip away filling him with an unmistakable bitterness, though for what? Her? Himself? Their friendship? He could not put it into words.

“I mean every word.”

That is the last memory he has of her, looking every bit as broken as he'd intended her to feel. In the days that followed, as her family arrived once more to steal her away, Aemond felt the gnawing grip of regret when he chose not to see her off at the courtyard, watching from his window as she scanned the space around for her good friend's presence and didn't find it.

It was then Aemond began to hate himself for every bit of cruelty enacted against her from him. Her carriage disappeared into the distance until it was nothing, leaving a pit of pain in his heart.

Not a day passed that Aemond did not at least think of her and wait for any correspondence to arrive, with his name etched into the paper in her curved, feminine handwriting.

But as he'd feared, she had taken his words to heart, and no letter ever arrived, and eventually, it felt no use counting the days and moons since he'd last seen her.

The guilt would eat away at him for years, the memory of her pained expression etched into his vision. Even as he grew into a man, it would never fully fade, though he was quick to tell himself that he shouldn’t care, that she was no longer the same girl he had loved so much, not since she chose her own fate.

In an attempt to fill the hole she'd left behind, he busied himself with the sword, intent with some level of obsession at becoming the most skilled swordsman in Westeros.

Aemond would train for hours at a time, the dull ache deep within him pushed away by the strain of sparring drills and intense workouts with the sword. Though even in the midst of training, his thoughts would always be in the back of his mind, taunting him with the guilt that he felt, the shame of how he had treated her at the end.

By itself, it was not enough, but even burying his nose in books did not blur that heavy ache. But it did not mean he could not at least try.

Which is why he sighed in annoyance as he sat by the fireplace in his chambers, a large tome opened in his lap and two knocks rapped at the door.

“Enter.”

He did not tear his attention away as the maidservant entered with a short and quick curtsy, hands clasped, “Your grace, Queen Alicent has requested your presence.”

That alone was enough to draw his attention away from his reading. His mother did not request him for a small matter.

He had wondered if perhaps Aegon had managed to slip out of the Keep again, for yet another one of his excursions into Flea Bottom, and send him to retrieve his brother.

Perhaps his mother finally thought enough time had passed and he was much of a man to suggest a marriage proposal. For some reason, the thought made him ill.

“Thank you, Ser Criston,” he heard his mother say in a muffled tone once he was announced.

Aemond raised his gaze to his mother, relieved to see her calm, and dare he say, happy.

“Aemond,” she greeted softly, her smile gentle and her touch on his arms comforting, “do not look so forlorn.”

“You wished to see me.”

“I did,” Alicent beamed, clasping her hands at her front, “Come.”

He could not help but give a puzzled expression as he walked beside his mother through the winding halls of the Keep, wondering perhaps why her behaviour was so different than usual. A sort of anxiety fed through her, but not the self-destructive kind.

“We are to receive some guests today. I would like you to greet them.”

Aemond quirked a brow, confused and somewhat annoyed in equal measure, “I am not accustomed to greeting-”

“They have travelled a long way, so remember to be courteous,” Alicent added, flashing one of her tight-lipped smiles, which only served to confuse Aemond further. His mother led him to the top of the staircase of the empty, echoing foyer and instructed quickly, “do be a gracious host, Aemond.”

He did not have a mere moment to question her, before he was watching the back of his mother disappear down the very same hallway they had just walked together. All he managed was a baffled shake of his head, as if by some miracle this was all some mad dream he had conjured. He questioned why on earth his mother would allow him to greet these esteemed guests alone, out of all her antisocial children.

But ever dutiful, he descended the stairs, hearing the low voice of Ser Westerling greeting whomever was arriving in a warm, formal tone, with their silhouettes casting blurred shadows onto the flagstone floor. Aemond’s feet were planted firmly on the step without even realising it.

This esteemed guest was no stranger to him.

Though the years had matured her gracefully, Aemond is sure he would recognise her anywhere, as she looked every bit the same as that day he regretted seeing her carriage leave King’s Landing. She stood tall, her cape fastened at her front with her house crest nestled in the middle, her dark skirts framing her womanly figure as her eyes trailed the details of the Keep that had changed since she had last been there.

Aemond stared wordlessly, the emotions so long buried resurfacing as if they had never left. His breath felt hot, his mind struggling to accept what his lone eye beheld before him. That she was here after so many years separated, in the very flesh, and yet he was unable to utter a single word.

She wandered about the space, commenting to the young woman beside her, who carried a child no older than three in her arms, how it had all looked so much larger in her youth. So he took this moment where she had not yet noticed him to look upon her with wonder, frozen entirely in place with the unexpectedness of her return. His mind raced with the thoughts of what this meeting could mean, for him, for her, and for their future; and he could not deny the strong tug of guilt in his chest for how he had treated her all those years ago, and how her renewed presence only made them more real.

Clearing his throat as he approached, the lady beside her noticed him first, “Prince Aemond,” she greeted with a curtsy, prompting her also to lay her eyes on him once more.

“Your grace,” she smiled warmly with a quick curtsy, with such a formality that made his heart ache.

He craned his head to bow lightly at her, “My Lady,” he replied with some stiffness, before gazing once more into her friendly, soft eyes and allowing his shoulders to relax, “I wondered perhaps if you would recognise me.”

Her laugh made his stomach flip, “I do not think I could ever forget you. Though I must confess, I wondered the same for myself.”

Her smile could not be described as anything less than perfect and a feeling that he harboured for her so long ago began to creep back in before he could stop it, “my Lady, I must apologise right away.”

But she shook her head, looking down at her hands, “it was a long time ago.”

He did not wish to upset her further by mentioning such an incident that had harmed his pride since, but knew that her memories of it were just as vivid as his own, “And I have not forgotten. You did what was expected for a lady in your position, and yet I was too selfish to understand that at the time. Please forgive me.”

He could not take the desperation out his tone, no matter how hard he tried. And still, she smiled sadly at his words.

“You must know that I did not wish to leave you.”

“I do,” he replied quickly, the memories of his guilt burning a hole in his throat, trying to hide the bitterness he felt towards himself, “I must confess - I have missed you greatly.”

Her hands clasped at her front, she blinked slowly and swallowed thickly, “I have missed you too.”

The silence stretched between them. Years of separation and longing had left them both yearning, but lacking the courage of knowing what to say. Aemond cleared his throat, his hands behind his back with anxiety, seeing that her ‘favoured’ husband was still not yet present.

“Are we to receive your husband as well?” he asked with some stiffness, or perhaps bitterness.

She cocked her head ever so slightly, eyebrows pulled together in confusion, until a small smile of realisation graced her features, “I regret to inform you I am recently widowed.”

In any other situation, Aemond would have been mortified at her reply. But with her smile came a rush of realisation himself, and hope swelled in his heart, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, hoping to all the gods that she could not see the way his thought ran wild in his head, and made his breeches tighten, “Widowed-”

“Indeed. I am sorry to disappoint you, my Prince. In truth, I have just come out of mourning,” she nodded, biting back another coy smile, showing in her mannerisms that it was no great loss to her.

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lady.”

She shook her head softly, “my husband left a suitable will, so that my child and I live comfortably and so there is no need for me to pursue future marriages should I not wish to.”

Her careful wording was not lost on him, and Aemond could not help the sense of glee at this new and recent change in her life, the bitter anger at having lost her to some decrepit old man years previous seemingly dissipating. And yet despite this, he attempted to keep it hidden, not wishing to seem disrespectful to her late husband.

“Might I present you my daughter,” she added, taking the child from the woman beside her into her own and resting the shy young girl on her hip. The child’s wide-eyed innocent expression unapologetically took all of Aemond in, as children often do, and he was reminded very much of his dear friend when she was small.

She was the image of her mother, save for the slightly lighter hair, with every feature of her etched into her daughter’s youthful face. And the reality of such similarities made him feel both joy and sorrow all at once.

“She is beautiful.” His voice was quiet, seeing the child in her arms was shy and reserved, unlike her mother, but thankful somewhat that her little one was not in the slightest alike to the man she had been forced to marry. Looking into the eyes of her child felt much like staring at the girl he once knew, and with that, a rush of affection.

Aemond thought, that in different circumstances, this child could have been theirs, a shared expression of their affections for one another. That all those years ago, had her father not coerced her into honouring her late sister’s betrothal, that she and Aemond would have their own children by now.

Before he could think too long, the small girl whined in her arms and she put her down immediately, the little patter of childish feet nearly had Aemond break into a grin, watching her run off with the nursemaid chasing behind.

“I am afraid she is a curious little thing. Like mother like daughter I suppose”, she smiled brightly.

Aemond nodded, the rush of memories bringing a wistful smile to his face, “Like mother like daughter,” was all he managed to reply, watching the mischievousness unfold. Yet, once the child and the nursemaid had left them alone, she chuckled softly, feeling his heartbeat slow in pace with hers.

“May I confess something to you, without fear of judgement?” Aemond asked, his heart thudding as she nodded in return, “You may think me foolish, but I must confess that my mind still lingers on the memories of our time together, and I have found no way to erase the feelings they carry with them - your return to King’s Landing has only reinforced them,” he confessed, looking into her warm gaze, “for now, when I look at you, I cannot help but feel just as I did then.”

He watched her swallow thickly, and take a deep, meaningful breath, like what she was going to say would be heavy, “and, what feelings are those, might I ask?”

His heart felt as it was beating so fast it was cracking his ribs, throat closing with anxiety. The feelings he had tried so hard to hide with a mask of bitterness now overflowing with terrifying intensity. Yet, to say such feelings out loud to her, someone he had trusted so much in his youth, made it feel all the more real. And as he stared into her eyes, he wanted nothing more than for her to share them, despite their years of absence from one another.

“That I love you - and have from the moment I met you.”

The words came out quickly, and as soon as he uttered them he felt his cheeks grow hot, knowing her response was either one way or the other and that he, a man so long disconnected from his own feelings, hiding them with his pride for so many years, was now opening up his vulnerability.

He wanted her to love him. So desperately.

She sighed quietly in relief, “I have loved you as well. And I was saddened to have left you - and will forever be vehemently sorry for that.”

Though his relief was palpable, but he shook his head first, “You were right then, and always have been, that you had no choice or opinion in the matter. Therefore, I will accept no apologies.”

Her eyes glistened with emotion at his words, and when Aemond stepped forward and took her cheek in his palm, her breath hitched in such a way he was sure they would spill forth in tears. But the strong person she had always been, she held them back.

“I feared - you would not desire me,” she confessed quietly.

Aemond smirked, “It may take more than a few years of separation to extinguish what was once there. I have loved you since that day beneath the Weirwood Tree, and I will love you until this life ends and the next one begins.”

She gave a watery smile at his sweet words, “though I have been wed once already with a child?”

He was silent for a moment as he considered her question, and not a bit of him even wondered whether it were possible, “my love is no fickle thing,” he smiled, “in time I hope I may become as close as a father to her as I may become a husband to you.”

He watched as her unshed tears formed a constellation on her eyelashes, but a relieved smile graced her delicate features. Aemond could not remember the last time he had been this close to her, able to detect the delicate scents brushed through her hair and the way her cheeks warmed at the close proximity between them, and undeniable tension.

The thought of kissing her, having her to himself, made something arousing tighten in his breeches, to his embarrassment.

He drew in a breath, leaning forward to capture her lips, but both drew back a pace suddenly.

“My Lady! Would you care to join us for supper this evening,” Alicent smiled brightly, as if knowing some great secret seeing them both stood straight and blushing. And she had to take a moment to think and stammer out her reply,

“Oh - yes, I would be delighted-”

“Wonderful! I shall see you to your chambers,” the Queen beamed, giving Aemond a sideways glance as the two women he most respected in life walked alongside one another.

He felt as if the entire evening was a true test of his will and determination. Aemond is certain Alicent meant no ill will by inviting the woman he unequivocally loved to supper with his family; but as he sat beside her, remembering how close he had been just a few hours before, it was almost as if everyone around him was aware and simply dangling the situation in front of his face.

And he cursed any god that existed that Aegon was not drowned in his cups that night, as he usually was. On this night, he was frustratingly lucid and hyper-aware.

Helaena, at first, was impartial to the sudden get-together, but as soon as she and Helaena saw one another, it was as if no time at all had passed. They were, of course, the same age when she had been his mother's ward, and as well as with Aemond, had formed a close friendship.

The princess was of course eager to catch up, and even invited her up to dance, to which she happily obliged as Aemond watched from his spot at the table. It was nice to see Helaena happy for a change.

A sorrowful thought had occurred to Aemond that both his friend and Helaena were pressured into marriages and motherhood far too young. And seeing them very much acting like young girls with one another, only exacerbated this feeling.

They talked quickly with excitement, planning to have their children meet up with one another and play in the gardens. And while they were engrossed in conversation, Aegon slid next to his brother, with a knowing smirk on his face.

“She is just as animated as I remember,” the young prince smirked, raising his eyebrows at Aemond over the rim of his cup.

“I will hear none of your depravity about her.”

Aegon threw him a faux-offended expression, “I had not even got there yet. Do you have such a low opinion of me?”

Aemond ignored him and sipped his own Dornish Red.

“You wish to marry her.”

“And you are perceptive.”

“Gods, I love it when you compliment me.”

“And insufferable.”

“What makes you think grandfather will allow you to marry her anyway? He's a dry old cunt, he will not care if you love her or not. He would have you wed to some plain-faced twat from who-knows-where.”

For one infuriatingly brief moment, Aemond had to concede that Aegon was probably right. And with one restless finger tapping against the table, he glanced over at his mother and grandfather suspiciously squished together on one end of the table, leaning towards each other and whispering in low voices, with Otto Hightower looking at his beloved friend from beneath his brow.

They were talking about her. Discussing her. And by the expression on his grandfather, analysing her.

Aemond felt his heart beat faster at the prospect that they were speaking so secretively about her without her knowledge. It seemed a stark contrast to the way the two women on the other side of the table were laughing and smiling brightly, something so rarely seen on Helaena’s face nowadays.

“She is no maiden, that is for certain. Though if you are lucky, perhaps only the first three inches of her have been tainted by Lefford’s withered old cock.”

Aemond wrinkled his nose at Aegon’s depraved quip, despite his somewhat polite request for him not too. Perhaps he’d expected too much courtesy from his elder brother. Or perhaps, more likely, with the exciting renewed presence of Lord Lefford’s widow, Aegon felt the need to perform, and exaggerate his usual unfortunate traits of his personality.

“‘Tis almost as worse as our dear sister being wed to me.”

“I am certain there is nothing worse than that,” Aemond replied quickly, behind the rim of his cup, failing to keep his gaze from forever drifting to the figure of her from across the candles and ornaments.

Aemond found himself captivated by the way she moved, the subtle grace in her gestures that spoke volumes of the woman she had become. Gone was the innocence of youth, replaced by a quiet strength and resilience that only seemed to enhance her beauty. He couldn't help but notice the way her laughter rang out like music, filling the room with warmth and light. It was a sound he had missed more than he cared to admit, a reminder of simpler times when they were just children with the world at their feet.

But now, as he watched her twirl across the dance floor with Helaena, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence. It was as if she had blossomed into a flower, her petals unfurling to reveal a depth and complexity that left him breathless.

He attempted not to move too quickly once the festivities were over, afraid of showing her in his actions his desperation to be close to her as he offered his arm, “might I see you to your chambers, my Lady?”

She gave a shy smile that morphed into one of amusement, and Aemond is sure he felt something akin to that stomach-flipping sensation when he was flying out on Vhagar when her hand rested on the inside of his forearm, “Very well.”

Aemond chose to ignore the low snicker of his elder brother, showing him his back instead, with the woman he loved on his arm.

“You are aware I know this Keep better than I do my own home, and am perfectly capable of finding my chambers myself?” she said with a teasing lilt.

Aemond couldn't help but chuckle softly, the sound echoing in the empty corridor. "Forgive me, my Lady. It seems my chivalry gets the better of me in your presence."

Her laughter rang out, filling the silence with warmth. "Chivalry or a desire to prolong our conversation, Prince Aemond?"

He felt a surge of joy at the playful banter, grateful for the opportunity to spend even a few moments alone with her. "Perhaps a bit of both, my Lady. Though I must admit, the thought of your company is a temptation I find hard to resist."

She looked at her feet, as if to hide the rising warmth to her face, “I must confess, it is nice to once again be somewhere familiar, with the company I admire most. When my husband was alive it could often get rather lonely.”

Aemond fell quiet for a moment, swallowing thickly, trying to navigate his feelings in the midst of a difficult situation, “I hope that he was kind to you.”

She glanced up at him, her eyes revealing a depth of gratitude that stirred something within him. "He had his moments," she admitted with a small smile, "but kindness was not his strongest suit. Still, I suppose I cannot fault him entirely. He provided for me in his own way."

Aemond could sense the underlying weight in her words, the unspoken struggles she had endured beneath the facade of mere cordiality. He didn't need to ask to know that her late husband had been less than supportive.

"You deserve far more than just provision, my Lady," he said earnestly, his gaze unwavering as he spoke.

Aemond could almost feel his heart sink as he had realised they were stood before her chamber doors, her hand slipping from his arm, and yet a fire stoking fierce then at the thought of an invitation inside.

She clasped her hands delicately, her warm eyes meeting his with a gentle intensity. "I couldn't help but notice Queen Alicent and the Lord Hand engaged in such ceaseless conversation," she remarked, her voice soft and thoughtful. "I do not wish to presume—"

Aemond, catching the subtle implication in her words, swiftly interjected, "I cannot claim to know their exact sentiments." His gaze met hers, offering reassurance without a hint of desperation. "But I refuse to allow something as trivial as their approval to deter me. I've already endured the pain of losing you once."

There was a quiet determination in his voice, a resolve that mirrored the fire in her own eyes. In that moment, they shared an unspoken understanding, a mutual agreement to pursue their feelings despite the potential obstacles that lay ahead.

She nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Your courage is admirable, Prince Aemond. But we must proceed cautiously. The court is a web of intricate politics, and our actions could have far-reaching consequences."

Her words were crafted in such a way that reminded him of her personality in their youth, understanding of the repercussions and yet boldly standing tall in the face of them. And with her small, mischievous smile, he knew all the same that whatever she uttered was only done so to extend her cordiality.

"I understand," he replied, his tone tinged with determination. "But I cannot ignore what my heart tells me."

"Nor can I," she admitted softly, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

Silence settled between them for a moment, the weight of their unspoken desires hanging in the air. Then, with a subtle shift in her demeanour, she turned towards her chamber door. Without a word, she reached out and gently pushed it open, leaving it ajar. A silent invitation hung in the air, enticing Aemond to step inside.

Aemond's heart skipped a beat as he watched her gesture, his pulse quickening with anticipation. Without hesitation, he took a step forward, drawn irresistibly towards the open door and the promise of privacy within.

With a shared glance filled with unspoken understanding, Aemond turned towards her chamber doors, crossing the threshold into the privacy of her chambers, where their hearts could speak freely without the constraints of the outside world.

She spoke quietly, her face illuminated warmly by the soft flicker of candlelight. "I hope you do not think less of me for this," she murmured, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "You can imagine, for me there is no great ceremony in it."

Aemond's heart swelled with tenderness at her words, his gaze filled with an understanding that transcended mere words. "I could never think less of you," he replied softly, his voice brimming with sincerity.

Aemond slowly closed the distance between them, their expressions never wavering, his steps deliberate yet gentle. He reached out, his hand cupping her face tenderly, as he gazed into her eyes with an intensity that spoke of his deep affection. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in a timeless embrace. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across their intertwined figures, bearing witness to the union of two souls bound together by love and longing.

Her lips parted to whisper, “I do not wish for you to do all of this out of guilt-”

She caught herself when his thumb traced her cheek, waiting for him to answer, “I do not make this bid out of remorse. I wish to be with you, and I wish to make you mine.”

Aside from the crackling heat of the fire within the hearth, her breath was all that was audible between them, coming heavier from between her lips as his thumb feathered down her cheek and to her bottom lip, caressing the skin there. After that, he felt her eyelashes against his cheek flutter when he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers with a tenderness usually unbecoming of his personality.

Years of longing had each of them pressing closer to each other, lost in the sound of their soft kisses, and Aemond felt his clothing below his waist become tight with need once he caressed her tongue with his and pried her lips apart like the petal of a flower and tasting the sweet nectar within.

Her hands that had found his shoulders slid over the sleek leather to his front, tenderly and gingerly pulling the buckles apart to loosen his doublet. Her actions, instead of spurring embarrassment, renewed a deep-rooted vigour beneath, and Aemond’s new task was to pull at the laces of her dress behind her, and pull the fabric that had hidden her body from him.

He felt her shiver, pulling the heavy dress from her shoulder to pool at her waist, pushing them as fervently off her as he was able, “was he at least good to you,” Aemond asked in a whisper, his breath hot at her neck while she pulled at the laces of his breeches.

“I do not wish to speak of him,” she answered with determination and confidence, but a breathless, wanton whisper herself, wanting nothing more than to consummate years of harboured affections masked by friendship, “I only want you.”

Her words had his heart stutter in his chest, pulling her now almost bare form atop him as he sat back onto the bed, with her hair loosened like this and her shoulders blossoming with gooseflesh, he found that he was incapable of keeping his hands at his sides and explored the shape of her feminine body beneath the shift she wore.

Even the sheer motion of her brushing against his hardened member and her breasts filling his palms could have been enough for Aemond, but there was no returning at this point. She sighed against his lips as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her shift to ruck the thin fabric up around her hips, squeezing the flesh of her thighs to pull her closer onto his lap.

Warmth bloomed at her cheeks, but it did not deter her as she reached between them and smiled at Aemond’s loud moan, stroking his rapidly hardening length in her palm, focussing her attention towards the velvety tip.

She lifted herself in his lap, fingers threaded at the hair at his nape as if to anchor herself to him, and both sighed with the utmost relief of their union once he pressed himself into her, and she sank her warmth onto him, enveloping him with her body. Her lips parted at the stretch, somewhat prepared and yet the intrusion still stealing the air from her lungs.

Foreheads pressed together, Aemond's hands gripped her at her waist, pushing his hips up into her as hard as he could to sink deeper inside her, “I have dreamt of this - for so long - being with you like this -”

A faint sheen glimmered on her collarbones as she slowly moved her hips on him, Aemond's legs parted somewhat, widening hers and opening her up more so he could rock up into her with her rhythm. The closeness of their position had the blunt head of his cock massage that sensitive patch within, her eyebrows knitted together in sweet pleasure.

“That's it -” he cooed quietly, almost watching the way she moved with admiration and curiosity, her tight, silky walls squeezing his length with every thrust of herself down. He felt her arousal coat the base of him, and the sound of their ever-quickening coupling filled the otherwise quiet chambers.

She held onto his shoulders, the amber glow of the fireplace picturing her expression in the most arousing way Aemond had ever imagined. Pulling her shift down her chest, he groaned lowly at the sight of her breasts and took one in his palm and mouthed at the other, taking her stiffened nipple between his lips in a way that made a shuddering moan slip past her lips.

“Gods - I would adore to watch you swell with my child - would you like that -”

All she could do was nod feebly, words unable to occupy her mouth where soft, sweet sounds of pleasure were pouring out. Aemond smirked, grazing his teeth over her bud.

“yes, you would like to serve your husband - give him children, wouldn't you - fuck-” his voice strained at the effort it took to hold himself back, his hands sliding down the column of her back to her plump backside, palms gripping tight and guiding her rhythm onto him, over and over.

She moaned loudly, the motion of being pulled back and forth and yet still impaling herself on him driving the fat head of his cock into the deepest and most forbidden parts of her.

“Aemond -”

“And once you have one - I'll fuck yet another one into you - keep you fat with child” his breathing grew ragged and shaky, “- take it - like a good little wife should-”

“Yes - yes-” she breathed quickly, the words slipping out without realising what they were for, her blind acceptance of being his wife, or the rising waves of pleasure coursing white, hot through her body.

He felt her squeezing him and hastened both of her rhythms, dragging her back into his lap and pushing up into her wet heat ceaselessly. Both the numbing ache of her peak and her bud rolling against his body in quick succession had her hands gripping around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck as her limbs flooded with warmth.

“That's it, ābrazyrys -”

“Gods, Aemond-” she squeaked, completely overcome and possessed by the heights of pleasure rolling through her, the endless rhythm of him fucking up into her only prolonging it.

Her tight walls squeezed him so deliciously that Aemond's heart leapt into his throat, completely surprised as he pulsed thickly and spilled within her, his lone eye tightly shut. His own fulfilment had his hips twitching, shallowly pushing his seed into her, and hoping that it took.

Even once he was completely spent and exhausted, softening inside her, neither moved, and he simply felt her tender fingertips at his shoulders in light soft circles, massaging him. And thought, that this is how it always should have been, had he fought for her.

Her breath fluttered against his skin, herself tired in exertion from their shared pleasure.

“I was a fool - for allowing you to slip from my grasp.”

She sat up, to look down at him, her face flushed, hair in messy waves, looking every bit as beautiful as the day he'd lost her.

But she smiled, her finger tracing the pattern impressed on the leather of his eye patch, “you may have been a fool,” she started.

Her finger hooked beneath it, and lifted it away, her expression unchanged as her thumb stroked the indent of the scar at his cheek. Aemond felt his heart soar in a way that almost felt terrifying.

“I never slipped from your grasp,” she uttered gently, “my heart was always yours.”

Aemond brushed her hair from her features, her words sending waves of ecstasy thrumming in his veins.

“Just as mine shall always be.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @emmaisafictionwhore @minholy223

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Friends

Niamh Charles x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get a new friend

Niamh waves a little at you as you toddle around the changing room.

You're still new to Chelsea, to England as a whole so Niamh watches you from a distance.

It's weird having a kid at practice all the time but Magda and Pernille are still trying to sort out a nursery place for you so you're always with them.

Magda, especially, seems ecstatic that you're here. She hovers incessantly, always standing behind you on your little toddling adventures and sticking as close to you as possible.

It must be a new mother thing, Niamh supposes. Not that Magda's really a new mother but this is the first time she's had you living with her and being such a big constant in her life.

There must have been some degree of separation between you both when you and Pernille were still in Germany. There's so much Magda hasn't done with you yet so it makes sense why she's hovering.

You look like Magda, Niamh thinks, just from your general face shape but you act like Pernille, from your stance to the way that you speak. A perfect blend of your parents.

There's no question on who you belong to.

You're toddling again now and Magda is watching you with eagle eyes as she's trapped in a conversation with Millie by the door.

You're inspecting one of the benches, touching it curiously.

You drop one of your toys. The weird-looking bird one as you crawl under the bench to look at the underside of it.

Niamh reaches for your swan, picking it up and gently wiping off the dust from the floor.

It's an old toy but well loved, clearly tattered with a few fraying seams and nearly too much stuffing in one of the wings. But Niamh's never seen you without it and your elk toy, though she's heard you insist on calling that toy girl-moose even after a few weeks of calling it girl-elk.

She turns your swan over in her hand, throwing it up and catching it.

It always looks so big in your hand but it looks small in Niamh's.

"That's mine!"

Niamh looks down, feeling little hands on her legs. One hand reaches up to try and get your toy back.

You've got Magda's frown on your face but your accent is all Pernille.

"Yeah," Niamh says," It is."

"My moster Frido got her for me."

It's the most English Niamh has ever heard you say, at least to her so she crouches down next to you so she's on your level.

"Your swan is very pretty."

You look delighted that someone is talking to you about your toy and you hold up your moose.

"This is girl-moose because she is a moose and a girl." You flick her ear. "Used to be girl-elk but I like moose better so is back to being girl-moose."

"You're very smart."

Your head bobs up and down. "Momma says that! Because I speak languages well!"

"You do!"

You poke your chest. "I'm y/n but Momma and Morsa call me Princesse."

"I'm Niamh."

You let Niamh keep holding girl-swan as you grab her other hand.

Millie and Magda are by the door but separate when you come barging past, dragging Niamh with you.

"We're friends," You tell her as you toddle along out onto the training pitch," So I will introduce you to my other friend."

There's a few people out on the pitch and Niamh assumes you're going to drag her over to Pernille.

She knows Pernille's your mother but on multiple occasions you've called Pernille and Magda your best friends.

But it's not Pernille you go to now.

In fact you bypass her completely, pulling Niamh past.

"Jessie!" You chirp," My Jessie! New friend! Niamh, do you know my Jessie?"

Niamh laughs. "I do know Jessie."

"Jessie's my friend," You tell her earnestly, dropping her hand so you can hug Jessie's leg," One of my bestest friends after Morsa and Momma. You can be our friend too!"

Jessie's grinning, a hand holding onto your shoulder as you suddenly go a little shy.

"Do you want to be our friend, Niamh?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious.

Niamh grins. "I'd love to be your friend."

#woso x reader #niamh charles x reader #niamh charles #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #the big adventures universe

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thisblogisaboutabook · 5 months

Text

Mr. and Mrs. Shadowsinger

Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut

His eyes are cold and restless, his wounds are almost healed, and she’d give half of Prythian just to change the way he feels. She knows his love’s in the Hewn City and she knows he’s going to go. But it’s not a female he’s leaving for, it’s his damned duty to the Night Court.

Warnings: sexual content, grinding, dom/sub dynamic, language, bondage, grinding, fingering, toxic couple, using intimacy as a form of persuasion

Her mate was strong but gods damn it, so was she. Perhaps that’s why by some cruel twist of fate, she was mated to the infamous Spymaster of Night Court. A male that could torture the secrets out of seasoned liaisons with even the highest of clearances. Nobody in Prythian was better at the game than him, and he wouldn’t allow anyone a moment to doubt it. “Cold”, “Calculating”, “Ruthless”, those that feared him would whisper.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Azriel?” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

His cold, stony gaze fixed on the door behind her as she pressed her body against it, blocking the exit.

Placing two palms to his leather covered chest, she shoved - perhaps she was the only one who didn’t fear him. In fact, she loved him and that was the fucking problem. She wished she didn’t, wished she could let his ass walk right out that front door and not give him a second glance. Instead she was so hopelessly devoted to him that she couldn’t fathom letting him go without a fight. The irony wasn’t lost on her that she needed him, like he needed to draw information from anyone he perceived as a threat to the Night Court. Those that respected him would call it honorable. She called it fucking insufferable.

To his credit, at the belligerent outburst of his mate, a slight tick of his jaw was the only sign of his irritation - a large hand raising to each of her shoulders.

“You just got back! This is fucking bullshit and you know it!” She huffed. She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let him see her weak. No, not today. Let him read the resolve in her eyes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night.” His firm tone left no room for argument.

Too bad for him she didn’t give a damn about personal space as she made room to retaliate anyway.

“You’re not even healed! Your left wing is tattered in two places. Never mind the fact that I’ve barely seen you this past month. What the hell, Azriel? Do I not matter to you?”

His cold, restless gaze faltered for a moment. “That’s unfair, Y/N, and you know it. You matter and so does ensuring the safety of the court we live in. It’s my duty.”

She pushed a finger into his chest, emphasizing her next words. “No, Azriel, what’s unfair is the way you are walking out on me again. Fuck this court and every person in it, I only want you.” Rage seeped through her, rising to a boil beneath her heated skin. Azriel’s lips remained pressed in a firm line, a slight rustle of his wings the only show of frustration.

Lifting a scarred finger and tracing it lightly along the side of her face, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t mean that.”

Her brow creased at the implication. “I do and you know it. You are all I care about, you’re my fucking mate, not the people of this court, not the city of Velaris, YOU.”

Shaking his head, he remained calm, letting out an exhale. “We can’t keep doing this, Y/N. You’ve known my duties since well before we mated. You don’t see me complaining when you’re away on missions for the Valkyries.”

Oh- he struck a nerve with that. Bracing himself for the recoil he stood firm, crossing his arms in the warriors stance he and Cassian had both perfected over the years. With a cock of his head he continued, “Did I strike a nerve there? Let it out, Y/N. Let’s get this out of the way so you’re not stewing the entire time that I’m gone.”

“You are infuriating!” She howled, her power rolling off her skin in waves, Azriel’s shadows recoiled but he didn’t flinch. “You know why you don’t complain? Because you’re still fed, fucked, and fawned over every single night you’re home. Do I get the same treatment in return? No!”

“So that’s why you’re upset?” He challenged. “You need me to fill your pretty cunt? Is that it baby?”

He hit his mark with the statement. A rush of arousal barreling into him before she clamped down on their bond, rage again lining her sharp features. “I can get off well enough on my own, Azriel.” she spat, his name dripping off her lips with venom. He wanted to bite those lips, suck the venom coating right off of them.

He leaned in, centimeters away from her ear, running a thumb gently up and down her forearm. “You sure about that? You seem a bit-“ hazel eyes roved hungrily up and down her form, from the exposed flesh of the thighs her negligee did very little to cover, to the hint of areola peaking over the deep cut of lace trim, disheveled in her haste to catch him before he left the house. He closed the distance, his lips now caressed the shell of her ear. “-tense.”

“Fuck you.” She snarled.

“Oh, did I not make that clear enough?” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, his hazel eyes boring into the depths of her own. “That’s what I’m offering.”

“You can’t fix this with fucking! I’m going to get Rhys, now. You’re not leaving. Not this time.” She stormed to their bedroom, the curve of her ass teasing him as he followed her through the house. Throwing open the armoire door she grabbed a silk t-shirt and leggings, hurriedly putting them on over her slip. Azriel’s tall form leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, watching his angry little mate with a smirk.

“I’m not fucking joking.” She scowled. “I don’t give a shit that he’s your High Lord. You’re MY mate first. Or did you forget that?” She marched toward the doorway shifting to slide past his towering frame. Just as she thought he’d let her past he flung out an arm. “How could I forget, my love? Your fiery rage is the soothing balm warming my own forged of ice.”

She hissed as she barreled into his arm, no match against the 500 years of hard-earned, corded muscle beneath. “No you don’t.” He hauled her over his right shoulder as she kicked and beat her clenched fists against the defined muscles of his back. “Put me down!”

He smiled to himself with satisfaction at the fact that though his mate was livid as all hel with him, she still was careful to throw those fists away from the sensitive membranes of his wings.

Reaching the edge of their oversized bed and much to her dismay, Azriel cradled one hand to the nape of her neck, and looped the opposite arm beneath her ass, dropping her onto the bed, his shadows darting out to restrain her.

“This isn’t going to work!” She yelped.

He hummed, a look of pure male arrogance crossing his gorgeous features. Leaning over the edge of the bed, he braced his weight on his left arm, tracing a calloused finger down the valley between her breasts. “Is that why the sweet aroma of your need is filling every inch of this room?”

Gritting her teeth, she fought the shadows pinning her to their bed.

She loved this and he knew it. His mate was wild, untamed, only yielding within the safety of their bedroom walls.

He placed a knee between her thighs, spreading them, and placing just enough pressure against her core to earn a whimper at the friction.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N.” he demanded.

The female shook her head.

“I may be a patient male, love, but I don’t have time to wait for you. Going to need you to use your words.”

She only scowled at him and he didn’t miss the way she almost imperceptibly arched her back, raising her chest, pebbled nipples peaking from beneath her silken shirt.

“Very well.” He tsk’d, turning his back, wings flaring slightly to remind her of just how accurate the rumors about wingspan were.

He stepped outside the door frame, turning the corner when a pitiful “Wait.” came from their room.

Her scent flowed to him from their room, his cock jerking at the win, at the fact that her submission and desire for him was so evident. He waited a moment. Oh yes, he was going to make her wait for this. Spymaster duties could hold off long enough to punish his girl for her outburst, in all the ways she loved to be reprimanded. She needed the attention and her behavior was a clear sign of it.

So he sauntered back into their room, oozing with confidence as he took in the sight of his mate, defenseless in her binded state.

“Can you be good for me, baby?” He asked in a condescending manner.

She nodded her head, apology dancing in her eyes.

“Promise me, baby.” He teased. “Show me just how good you can be.”

“Yes, sir.” She spoke submissively.

Pride sparked in his chest at her changed behavior. Releasing his shadows, he looked to her with faux empathy in his eyes, seating himself at the edge of the bed. “Strip.”

She did as he requested with no argument.

“Good girl.” He cooed, patting his thigh. “Now c’mere”

He took in every inch of exposed skin as she strode toward him, avoiding eye contact in a show of deference. Very well, the subtle bounce breasts with each step was captivating his attention anyway.

His submissive girl was so fucking good for him.

She spread her legs, straddling his thigh, dropping her weight down onto it, waiting patiently for his next command.

Looking into her eyes, he whispered in a low voice that sent chills through her, his palm cupping her jaw, thumb running across her lower lip. “You’re so delicious, you know? Those pretty lips make me want to devour them until they’re puffy and red.”

He was setting the bait. The next sentence determining whether she’d be rewarded or not based on her response. “But, unforunately” Azriel let out an exasperated sigh, “I don’t have all day. Our court needs me.”

He caught the flash of violence in her eyes, the rage warring within them. But to his surprise, she didn’t react. Not one single word of resistance falling from that pretty mouth.

He placed a hand on either side of her hip, situating her center over the seam of his leathers. “I know you didn’t like that, sweet girl. But look at you, you’re being so good for me right now. You’re learning.”

She smiled coyly at the praise, biting her lip and looking up to him with fluttering eyelashes.

“You can move now, baby. Take your pleasure.”

So she did, finding that perfect angle and rhythm to bring the friction she so desperately needed to her aching core.

Her body began to tense, little moans and whimpers spilling from her lips, brows furrowing as she focused on her pleasure. “Azzie.” She whispered innocently. “Please, may I come?”

He brought a scarred hand to the back of her head. “Such good manners, baby. So proud of you.”

She beamed at the praise.

“Yes, my good girl. You may.”

A whimper fell from her lips as his thumb found the sensitive bud of her clit, moving it in those rhythms he’d long ago perfected, bringing her to the edge in no time.

She cried out his name through shattered moans, her head falling to the crook of his neck, breasts heaving against him. When her panting settled, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Opening his mouth to accept her gratitude, he was taken back by something pulling at his wrists, ankles following suit.

His mate hopped off of him, heading to the closet. “What the hell?” Azriel shouted.

“Some Spymaster you are.” She chided, eyes rolling with contempt. “When would I ever submit so easily? Think with your other head next time, Az.”

Throwing on a set of leathers that typically would have had his cock at full attention by the way they hugged her like a second layer of skin, she flashed him a vulgar gesture and left the room, leaving him pinned to their four-poster bed by his own damned shadows.

He fought against the binds but the traitorous things were having none of it.

“Y/N! Come back!” He yelled but the only response was the slamming of the front door echoing down the hall.

——————————

Hours later a disheveled Shadowsinger found himself in the Hewn City. After much convincing his shadows had finally let him free of their restraint when he promised the lecherous things their share of playtime with their favorite little mate - their mate who was absolutely going to be punished later.

He was fuming, embarrassment weighing heavily upon him like an anchor. He almost felt bad for the subject Rhys has sent him to elicit information from today. They expected it would take at least a day, if not two to work on this one. Azriel guessed a day based on the less-than-generous mood he was in.

His heavy footsteps echoed off the walls of the Hewn City dungeons as he neared the cell of his subject, shadows promising violence, an obvious attempt to win back his affections after their betrayal.

Azriel gaped as he rounded the corner to find his leather clad mate sitting in a chair outside the cell, seated in a relaxed show of dominance with one leg crossed over the other, irreverently picking at her cuticles with fucking Truth-Teller.

“What the hell?” He fumed at his mate. “Where is the prisoner?”

“Oh, him?” She flashed a wicked grin.

“He’s gone. I got the information Rhys needed.”

His brows furrowed with disbelief. There was no way. It had only been a couple of hours. “How?”

She stood, swishing her hips as she sauntered toward him, brushing her chest against his. “I have my ways. Certainly you would know that.” She flicked her gaze to his swirling shadows who quickly hid in shame. “Your shadows surely do.”

Gripping him by the front of his leathers, she pulled him into a kiss, claiming his mouth with her own. The Shadowsinger too dumbfounded to argue.

“C’mon Shadowsinger.” She quirked an eyebrow, as she looked into his eyes with challenge. “You’re mine. Now, let’s go home.”

—————————————-

A/N: you get extra credit if you know where the summary for this story came from.

General tags: @lilah-asteria

#acotar #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #Azriel smut #azriel one shot #Azriel’s mate #azriel spymaster #spymaster

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azsazz · 10 months

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Silence Isn't Quiet Anymore

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel finally understands.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 892 (short but so good?)

Notes: This might be one of the most interesting concepts I've ever written. I'm obsessed.

_________________________________________

Azriel finally understands.

He’d caught a Suriel once. It hadn’t been anything more difficult than, say, crossing a river, which Suriels cannot do. He’d tracked it for an hour, two, the wind whistling through the trees as his only companion. His shadows had cowered away from the creature that belonged to something other. Another life, perhaps one before even the first of the fae or humans or animals that inhabit the continent found their way here. Before plants had taken root and clouds poured rain from the skies and the sun and the moon had been together, not forced apart by day and night.

There wasn’t a trap to be laid. A crossing of rivers had done enough.

The creature's tattered robe pulled from its bony body as a gust of wind brushed through the woods, sending shivers up his spine. He could’ve turned away right then. Should’ve. He wasn’t looking for answers to any questions, too stubborn in the fact that it was his job to know more about anything at any given time.

The Suriel stared into his soul as he stared into the cavity of its presence. A stalemate. Death looking at Death, a boy looking at his truth.

And its words were nothing but.

“One day, Shadowsinger, when the world has gone still around you, you’ll find out why silence isn’t quiet anymore.”

The harrowing words had haunted him for centuries. Azriel had shrunk in on himself, retreating further and further inside of the cavern of his mind as the words clung to his brain matter, always there.

In times where he might’ve forgotten the roughness of the Suriels voice, the pondering of so few words spoken, as if they were a curse branded into his soul, even his shadows would remind him. Curling behind the backs of his ears in a movement that reminded him so much of ragged, bony fingers reaching out for him in the same way. As he stared into those empty eye sockets, puzzling words falling from lips that didn’t move, a tongue that wasn’t there, from a jaw broken and swinging with the breeze.

Azriel finally understands.

Azriel finally understands why silence isn’t quiet anymore.

It’s your soft breaths, fingers brushing against the crisp page as you turn it. The cracking of the stiff spine. Your quiet gasps as the story goes wrong and the rubbing of your thighs when it goes right. He watches you from his place next to you, blankets shifting as you draw your knees to your chest, completely lost in the novel settled in your lap. You don’t even know it, that his hazel eyes are drawn to you like a maggot to rot. You’re lost in your own world, the quiet of the room a friend, a safety that allows you to immerse yourself in letters on pages.

It’s the wooden spoon scraping the bottom of the pot as you stir, staring at him with those heated eyes as if this is as tough for you as it is for him, keeping away. It’s the constant constricting in his chest, a yearning slowly stoked into a wildfire, cracking in the quiet as he waits. It’s the way your skirts whisper against your skin as you move around the kitchen. The sprinkle of spices, coarse salt pinched between your fingers, dripping into the stew. It’s bubbling, it’s meat so tender it falls apart with the spear of his fork, it’s a slurp of broth that burns him up just like you do, accepting the bond.

It’s your body curling into his while you sleep. The crumple of the sheets as you roll. Your fingernails against the mattress as you feel for him, mind buried deep in sleep. He wonders what you dream of, when you cling to him like that, the contours of your body fitting perfectly within his own. He can feel it, almost, the warmth in his chest as you dream.

It’s the flap of his wings in the night sky. You, cradled in his arms. The whipping of your hair across his wind-burnt cheeks. The light scratches at his scalp as you run your fingers through his unruly hair. It’s the steady thump of your chest, your heart against his as you cling to him, the scream you hold in but your body is tight with it.

It’s when you’re gone and he’s all alone. The silence doesn’t stop, but neither does the noise. It’s filled with voices, shadows cawing in his ears, sliding against his skin, chasing his footsteps like predators. It’s the voices in his head, the roaring of his beating chest as it screams at him to find you, even though you’re only gone a few more hours.

It’s clothes peeling away from skin. Buttons flying to the ground, fabric tearing. Footsteps stumbling closer to the bed. It’s nails scraping down his muscles, his around your waist, pressing bruises into your flesh. All the words that need to be said aren’t words at all. They’re tongues pressing against each other, soothing along each other. It’s teeth clicking, sticking to skin when you bite. It’s your flushed body peeling from his with every move, sticky with sweat. It’s the roiling inside of him, his mating bond coiling with yours, tighter and tighter and tighter until—

Azriel finally understands.

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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thewertsearch · 4 months

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NEPETA: :33 < […] i know for a FACT that you are still f33ling b100 (h33h33) from losing aradia […] NEPETA: :33 < it may purrk you up to know that i had a dream about her during my last catnap! […] NEPETA: :33 < yes, she had these purrty wings and a splendid hood, i think she might have b33n cosplaying much like friska has b33n! […]

Derse is gone, so Nepeta presumably met Aradia in the Furthest Ring's dream bubbles.

Really, it's a bit of a no-brainer that Aradia would end up there. Her session's in tatters, and she's clearly not returning to the Veil, so where else can she even go?

NEPETA: :33 < she was so happy, just like she used to be, and she said she would s33 you soon!

Me: "Ok, maybe I'm being too much of a downer. If he's lucky, Equius might survive the coming-"

Aradia: "Equius is about to enter Homestuck's afterlife."

EQUIUS: D --> That's a nice thought, and thank you for sharing it EQUIUS: D --> But it was only a dream, and will surely have no consequence in reality […] NEPETA: :33 < are those f33lings i an detecting with my wiggly whiskery nose? EQUIUS: D --> Maybe NEPETA: :33 < then we must take this to the pile, scratching-posthaste!!! ;33

This is sweet, but in light of what I'm increasingly sure is about to happen, it's also a little heartbreaking.

These two never had much screentime together, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that they never will.

Honestly, this is kind of a look. I actually think she wears those glasses better than Equius himself.

EQUIUS: D --> :33 < The e%posed belly commands to be scratched […] NEPETA: :33 < D --> RAWR, HULKING BRUTE NO OBEY COMMAND, TOO STRONG FOR TOUCHY CUDDLY STUFF PURR USUAL! BPP EQUIUS: D --> :33 < The scruffy haired, saucer eyed smart alec takes issue with the tone of the girl currently posing as said hulking brute EQUIUS: D --> :33 < She/he wonders if he/she appurreciates that the pawerful nobleman currently meow%querading as her/him would be more than happy to accommeowdate said cuddly stuff, outrageous STRONGNESS purrmitting

Just tell her you're having fun, dude! Tell her how much she means to you, and how much you unironically enjoy your roleplay! It's the last chance you're ever going to get!

NEPETA: :33 < equius, dammit! why do you always have to make this so cerebral! […] NEPETA: :33 < […] you dont always have to announce who you are purrtending to be in every line! and you dont always have to point out that its just purrtend! […] EQUIUS: D --> I was having fun EQUIUS: D --> The line about the belly scratching was e%ceptionally playful, and I am to be commended EQUIUS: D --> You will commend me, I command it NEPETA: :33 < yes yes, ok youre right. that was really great! […] EQUIUS: D --> I think I'm out of material though EQUIUS: D --> I don't actually know that much about cats

How one can be Nepeta’s moirail for any length of time and still be ignorant about cats is a greater puzzle than twenty pen-pals combined.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s125 #3438

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hannah-louise-97 · 2 months

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COMFORT AFTER DARK 🌙

Just a small comfort story about Noa comforting an anxious reader, I hope you enjoy 🙊

You lay alone in your poorly made bed next to your campfire, listening to the sounds of night creatures in the trees. You had done this every night and usually found it to be fine to fall asleep to, but for some reason, tonight, you're far from tired. On edge and on red alert every time you hear a slight noise. Even the sound of an owl calling above your head makes you flinch in panic.

As you pull the blanket closer to your face, you feel your body begin to tremble from nervousness, your eyes darting in all different directions as you lay there, the nocturnal animals seeming to play tricks on you, their calls and rustling sounding louder than usual.

The sound of a birds wings flapping in the trees above you causes you to cover your head with your tattered blanket and peak through one of the holes, an attempt at trying hard to calm your anxiety, but it just makes it worse, deciding that needing to see completely around you with your peripheral vision is a must.

Letting out a sigh of frustration, you curse under your breath, wondering why, out of all the nights you have stayed out in the forest, why is tonight the only night you feel this way?

Movement in the corner of your eye sparks up your senses completely, making you dart upright in your bed. Looking around quickly and squinting your eyes to see better, you see a large black figure slowly walking towards you. Gasping and closing your eyes tightly, you hope that you're just overtired, and it's just your imagination messing with you, but as you reopen your eyes, you see the figure still stepping closer.

You sit in silence as your chest heaves up and down with your rapid breaths, moving your blanket further up your face. You get the urge to call out and ask what on earth they’re doing here but you daren’t, you know that the way you’re feeling will only make it worse so instead you quickly lean over and take out the knife from your bag.

Clenching the knife in front of you with trembling hands as the figure finally gets close enough for you to see it’s face, you realise that it’s a young chimpanzee. He doesn’t look too threatening compared to some of the other animals you’ve seen wander onto your path, in fact, he looks curious, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose, but you still struggle to trust that he won’t attack you there and then.

Staring at him, you continue to point the knife at him, finally mustering up the courage to speak with narrowed eyes “I- I’m warning you” but your words come out more like a trembling whisper rather than threatening.

The chimpanzee looks at you and raises and eyebrow with what seems like confusion “I will... not hurt” his voice comes out as a soft rasp whilst he looks around your camp “I was climbing... and saw your fire” he pauses to look at you “I am... Noa”.

You nod slowly, quite shocked at how docile he seems, but not taking your eyes away from him as he sits down next to you and faces towards the fire, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.

“you should not... be out here alone” he turns to you, his eyes reflecting the orange glow from the flames.

You continue to grip onto your knife tightly, still pointing it at him, your eyes staying wide as your adrenaline continues to coarse through you. In some ways you’re quite liking that you’re not alone anymore but you’re certainly not willing to take any chances at this point.

The chimpanzee looks at your knife and tilts his head. Rolling his eyes and opening his arms to signal his innocence “I will not hurt... I saw you scared... and wanted to see... if you were okay” he looks at you with a raised brow “I can leave... if makes you... feel better?” the tone of his question comes out as though taunting you.

You hesitantly lower the knife, realising that maybe he really isn’t a threat to you at all, and tone honest, you do like how he makes you feel a little safer “N- No... you can stay”. You stutter, feeling your nerves begin to subside. The thought that someone, albeit an evolved chimpanzee was now sitting with you and no longer left to deal with your anxiety alone, you begin to feel a little more at ease.

Noa relaxes his posture and looks at you, his lips curling into a slight smile “how long... have you been... out here alone?” he moves his hands, signing with his question.

You look at him timidly, still a little on edge “my whole life” letting out a sigh and leaning back against a tree, you want to get to know this Noa a little bit more but you just end up smiling back at him and stuttering “I- I guess It’s nice to not be on my own anymore”

Noa lets out a soft grunt “I will stay... as long as... you need-... dangerous out here... alone” he looks back at the fire and frowns, wrinkling his nose while motioning to the dying flames “more wood-... needs more wood” standing up slowly, he is clearly cautious, not wanting to make you feel threatened again.

You grip onto the blanket and pull it back up near your face as you watch the chimp gather pieces of wood from around your camp and throw some of it onto the small fire.

“flames were... fading” he mumbles as he sits back down next to you, a little closer this time “but this... will last a while” he taps the wood that he has put beside him.

You narrow your eyes and raise a brow with curiosity but pretend you didn’t notice him sitting purposely closer to you, staring at the dancing flames, your body still trembling ever so slightly while your nerves continuing to slowly wear off.

He turns to you “I sometimes... find it hard to sleep” he signed with his words and motioned to the trees “went out for a climb... and saw your camp... got me curious”

Moving your knees to your chest and hugging them, you let out a small yawn and look at the ground “I don’t know why, but I’ve felt progressively nervous tonight” you glance up and see him looking at you.

“You need... comfort?” his hands do subtle movements along with his question.

You look at him, too nervous to say yes.

Noa hesitates for a moment then rests his weight on his knuckles to slowly move closer to your body. still being careful not to startle you. He sees you flinching away at first, causing him to pause his movements, but as you feel the warmth of his body next to you, and his fur brushing against the bare skin on the part of your shoulder you didn’t realise was uncovered until now, you end up involuntarily leaning into him, welcoming the physical touch that your body craved tonight.

You let out a quiet sigh of satisfaction as you feel him wrap his arms around you and gently put one of his hands on the back of your head, bringing you to lean into him. As you nuzzle into his chest, you hear his breathing as a slow steady rhythm, the motion of it relaxing you to finally close your eyes.

His words come out a quiet whisper against your hair as he rests his chin atop your head “it’s okay... you’re not alone now”.

#kingdomoftheplanetoftheapes #kingdom of the planet of the apes #planet of the apes #noa planet of the apes #noa pota #fanfic #Comfort #noa x reader

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thefirstknife · 2 months

Note

The fact that some remnant of osiris and sagira exist in the network and they seem to still be searching for saint I can’t do this actually I’m gonna end it all

Yeah. Yeah.

Like, I'm not sure if that's what that paragraph was supposed to suggest, but it sure feels like it MIGHT be and if it is.... I am running into traffic.

A man in tattered robes, feathers long since worn from his headdress, streaked through the shifting plasmic haze on golden wings, urged on by the tiny starburst at his side. His eyes were furious flame.

It's about the way it's described? Osiris is described as being in shambles, physically and emotionally (being angry) which seems like it's supposed to symbolise an Echo that spent so long in there, trying to brute force it all, and failing for thousands and thousands of attempts and like. Man.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #echoes #echoes spoilers #osiris #sagira #ask

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theillustraitor · 2 months

Text

Some of my own contributions to the dp fairy godparent au~

The first 4 pics are a short comic using @furiarossa 's fairy vlad design. Danny uses jack and maddies fairy powers for good, and dear old vladdy is preying on that...

Then i tried my hand at my own fairy vlad concept, heavily inspired by furiarossa's ofc, because i was struggling hard with the comic(it was actually supposed to be longer, but i just couldnt get things to look the way i wanted) Unfortunately even with my own design the fop style was just not fun :']

Sooooo then i made some dp styled fairy versions! I practiced the vlad one by redrawing one of the panels with it. And a fun fact; the wand they share looks different depending on whos holding it, hence the different wand designs! I honestly just really wanted them to have unique wands and then thought itd be neat if it changed shape

Also of note for both fop and dp style, vlad's hidden tattered wings are the replacement for his ecto-acne in this au

#fairy godparent au #danny phantom #danny phantom fanart #dp #vlad masters #danny fenton #jack fenton #maddie fenton

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carionto · 10 months

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Extreme Stress Testing

Human vessels are almost uniformly diverse. This is normal among civilians in most civilizations, but what baffles us is the fact their military craft of all sizes are equally uniquely designed and decorated. Now, we've seen how they love to tinker and attribute personality to their ships, but that's still a process that takes time and effort.

Take their fighter craft for example. Not even a week passes after one is printed and officially tested that it gains a whole new paint job and numerous panels and devices are replaced. After a bit of backroom negotiation in a bar where we politely kept to the only drinks that wouldn't kill us outright - tea. But still not too hot, it's miraculous how Humans can ingest near boiling water and be perfectly fine after a short while.

Anyway, we were allowed to "ghost" how a fairly young Quick Response combat group - Sparrow Swarm 12 - initiated three new fighter pilots and their freshly minted craft.

The Cruiser-Carrier hybrid ship, Hilda's Halberd, ferried the squad plus guests to the outer edges of Sol's Oort Cloud. At these distances, even the Sun is just a slightly larger dot in the pitch black darkness of space. However, wherever civilization goes, light follows, and with a flick of a switch of its powerful flood lights, Hilda's Halberd became the brightest spot for a million kilometers.

What it illuminated, however, was quite a terrifying sight to behold. A graveyard of ships and debris, deliberately left alone by the OCC by request of the military. We became quite worried as we got closer to the field, but thankfully the cruiser-carrier stopped a good few thousand clicks away. Then the fighter squadron launched straight for it.

Thanks to the flood lights we could clearly see the entire spectacle. We wish we couldn't.

The new pilots were bumped, literally physical ship-to-ship contact by the veterans all the way as they approached the, what the captain called - a "race track". It was horrifying all the way there. Sparks and sparkling micro-debris from the now not-so-pristine ships flew off with every bump and crash. And Human ships are bulky, even the smallest ones have much greater mass than normal, so impacts like those would easily destroy most non-Human ships of equivalent scale.

With numerous bruises and "cosmetic" damage!? (we would immediately send any ship in similar condition to be fully repaired and refitted) they arrived at the actual initiation grounds. Then the carnage begins. They're told to make it from one end of the field to the other WHILE EVERYONE ELSE IS SHOOTING AT THEM WITH LIVE AMMO!!!

It was beyond terrifying. Even as far as we were from the actual carnage, when Human ships discharge their weapons with intent - Space. Quivers.

It was over in a minute.

All three, now, by all measures anywhere else in the Galaxy, hardened combat veterans, made it. Just. How they were able to maneuver so swiftly and change trajectories without the Human within dying from all the g-forces is beyond us, and how the attackers were able to keep up with their chaotic movements, quite a learning experience for how decisively they would beat us as we are now should we ever become foes.

After everyone was back on Hilda's Halberd, the squad cheered and had a small feast, while the rest of the crew went about as normal and began to make way back to the core of Sol. The next day each of the tattered ships had their pilot and an engineer working on it, talking about all the technical aspects and things like how it "felt when the left wing was shot off and I bumped into an asteroid", and other nightmarish things.

One of the pilots simply smiled as she looked at her ship and then the engineer and said "Dragon horns".

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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impale-me-radio-daddy · 1 month

Note

Alastor seduces Valentino to cuck Vox who he knows is watching on the camera.

-Crack Rodent

Alastor's heat always came at the most inconvenient of times.

There were no seasons in Hell, per se, no way to mark time save for the big clock at the pentagram's center, its hands now ominously slack thanks to Charlie's work, but even so, Alastor had hoped he'd have more time. Sometimes he went years between heats. He'd not had one since he'd left Hell, in fact.

But now he felt sweaty and overdressed and was starting to hope that Angel Dust would offer to suck his nonexistent dick again, so there was no denying that his reprieve was up. He needed to do something about this.

Bringing in someone new was out of the question. His reputation was already in tatters after his televised humiliation by Adam, and sex workers talked. He'd be a joke in the gossip columns by the morning. He didn't have enough prestation to get something discreet through one of the other overlords, and much as his relationship with Husk was strained at times he had no desire to force himself on the man.

Which left Vox.

Before their fight Vox had been the one he'd taken to bed. A competent lover. Willing. Would hold him close and on occasion croon a slow jazz standard in his ear in a way that made Alastor shivery and tender, voice so full of gravel that one could rake it into a zen garden. And for all their public airing of dirty laundry, Vox had never once hinted at Alastor's lack of manhood, which meant that perhaps he hoped their old agreement still held. After everything.

But there was no way Alastor was going to Vox. He would be made to beg, Alastor could feel it. He would gloat. No, Vox needed to come to him.

It didn't take Alastor long to figure out how to make that happen.

“Greetings!” Alastor manifested grin first from the shadow to sit on Valentino's desk.

“Fuck!” Valentino scrambled backwards, nearly falling out of his chair. He kicked the chair aside, putting as much distance between himself and Alastor as possible as he scrabbled around looking for-

“Looking for this?” Alastor picked up Valentino's glitter encrusted gun from the desk and held it between thumb and forefinger, letting it dangle. “I'm not here to fight, you know.”

“Fucking cañona shit ass fuck,” Valentino snarled. “Then what fuck are you doing here?"

“I have... a proposition for you,” said Alastor, folding one leg over the other. Seduction was not his strong suit, but his heat was doing a lot of the legwork there, his body telling him exactly what constituted a sexy pose as he leaned forward, twirling the gun around one finger.

Valentino tilted his head to one side, catching on quickly. “You and me, radio fucker?” He narrowed his eyes, peering at Alastor through his big pink glasses. “What makes you think I would be up for that?”

Alastor smiled, instincts telling him not to sell it too hard. “Aren't you curious? About which of my qualities sent your friend the picturebox so doolally that he's still obsessing over me years later?”

And obsession was the word. Alastor could feel Vox’s attention on him already, a prickling in his antlers from the security camera mounted in the corner of Valentino’s office. He smiled at it, letting his distortion drop momentarily as he made eye contact, before turning his attention back to Valentino, who was clearly considering the offer.

“Is it true you’ve got a pussy, Radio Demon?” Valentino asked, the lines of his lips shifting from snarl to leer.

Had Vox told him? Alastor kept his smile level. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, a purr creeping into his voice, and he was dimly aware of a power surge, probably Vox shitting himself in his control room.

“I have nothing to hide, venadito,” said Valentino, his wings pulling back to reveal the dark sequined bodysuit he wore beneath. He was graceful, a dancer as he stepped closer, over the fallen chair, until he and Alastor breathed the same air. “If you let me taste that sweet papaya of yours, I’ll even let you touch them.”

Compromised by his heat as it was, Alastor felt his body respond to the proximity, a surge of arousal leaving him squeezing his thighs together as Valentino leaned over him. Valentino was certainly tall. “Them?” he repeated.

Valentino grinned, with one finger opening a slit in the side of his bodysuit and peeling it open to reveal the satiny purple skin beneath. “Them,” he confirmed, as he peeled the suit open over his groin. Alastor watched in fascination as he revealed three members. The central one could be mistaken for human, albeit rather long, but the two either side, sitting nearly at Valentino’s inguinal crease, were curved inward, long, pale spines splaying from them. “I bet you’re wondering what they feel like, yeah?” he said, grinning, and Alastor wondered how many people that line had worked on. “Now, you, venadito,” he said, a little pink liquid trickling from his bottom lip.

Alastor’s hand went to his belt and the lights flickered with the power glitch this time. Oh, Vox was certainly watching. Certainly pissed. Lovely. Unable to match the showmanship of Valentino’s tease, Alastor opted for simplicity, dismissing his pants with a snap of his fingers, and uncrossed his legs for Valentino, putting the gun to one side.

“Fuck,” Valentino hissed, his good antenna twitching as he caught wind of the smell. “You’re in fucking heat?” He drew close, long fingers trailing over Alastor’s bare thigh, and Alastor shivered. “Big bad radio demon, gagging for co-”

“Val!” Vox manifested from a nearby power socket like a bolt of lightning, looking frazzled, looking more pissed than Alastor had ever seen him. His voice was deliciously dark, pointed teeth showing as an aura of static buzzed around him. Oh, just the sight of him was a heady thrum between Alastor’s thighs. “Get the fuck off of him, Val. He’s mine.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” Alastor grinned at Vox as Valentino withdrew from him, nonplussed. “Nice of you to inform me.”

#alastor x valentino #alastor x vox #radiostatic

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hermit-lover · 2 years

Note

oooh okay! that's brilliant 'cause i had a request idea locked away n I love your writing n thought you would be perfect for it

if you are willing, my request is winged!grian preening winged!reader's wings n teaching them how to fly because they've never used their wings n always kept them hidden due to past experiences

you can change up the idea however you like of course

Teach me to fly

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

Character: Grian x Winged!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.8k)

Theme: Romantic, Hurt/comfort, healing

TW: Mentions of traumatic events, panic, exhaustion, insecurity, touch starved reader

A/N: Writing avian stuff is so much fun, and fluff with a side of angst? You are going straight for my heart. Couldn't fit flying in, but have cute preening content.

The sweater hangs uncomfortably, clinging to your limbs. Its cozy sure, but you wish it was gone. To feel the air on your skin. The bind across your chest tight, pinning the offending mounds of flesh down.

Your wings.

Rolling your shoulders, you continue to browse. What were you looking for? Right- fireworks. It was hard to focus nowadays, the soreness in your body and memories haunting. Pushing open the chest- you cringe as your ribs pull. A stack for one, and you start counting. Placing five in, you retrieve your goods, sending them into your inventory. A swoosh of air blows your hair out of place, fluttering the signs attached to the cart.

"Hey!" A voice chirps, over shooting before another swoosh lets them backtrack. A smile tugs on your lips, and you squint into the sky to try and spot the familiar blob. The flash of red approaches, landing on top of the cart. Red wings and blonde hair. Grian.

"Hi." You nod, "what's up?" You were always envious of the fact he felt safe enough to show his wings, and how perfectly the feathers fell. Brilliant mix of shining reds, stunning blues, and glowing green. Your own wings were tattered in comparison, black feathers rumpled from their misuse.

"Not much." He replies, tilts his head slightly, scanning your features. You try your best to look awake and upbeat, fighting against the fatigue. His eyes narrow and you can sense he's seen through your disguise. "How are you?" Grian places extra emphasis on you. You try not to flinch.

"Oh you know- I'm okay." You shrug, instantly regretting the motion. He hums. A small rush of air, and he lands down next to you. Clawed bird feet landing near silently.

"Just okay?" He asks, voice dropping. Pity. It was always pity.

"Yeah- I guess." Heat flushes your cheeks. He must think your stupid.

"Look at me." He requests suddenly, and you realize that you looked away. You obey. His eyes are soft, brows pulled together, and a small frown. It was the same face he made when he was worried. Wait...he was worried for you? No no no that's not right. A warm touch on your cheek makes you jolt back. "Sorry-" He apologizes, freezing. A hand was reaching for your cheek, sharp nails careful to not prick. He-he wanted to touch you. You had thought so much about him touching you. It was hard, you couldn't get to comfortable with physical contact- You slowly lean back. What was he planning? His palm is warm, soft and gentle. You try not to lean into the touch. "Im going to be honest." He starts, firm but calm.

"Okay." You whisper, aware of how hoarse your voice is. When did your throat close like this? Why were you so close to crying?

"I don't think you're okay." A brief flutter of panic clutches your heart. But...the look in Grian's eyes makes it quickly flee. Hot tears prickle in your eyes. He could read you so well. Somehow he picked up on your every little emotion time and time again. Despite you trying to hide. Lock them up so tight. He says nothing as you sob, ribs clenching and throbbing with the motion. You slowly recognize something within. The longing for touch. It was unusual for you, trying to hide your wings meant you had to refrain from any hugs, or fun handshakes, or casual leans, or cuddle piles, or sleepovers-

You lean into him, sagging into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. He tenses briefly, then his hands move to cup your head, and rest on your back. You would protest- but you were too tired. It was a pointless battle. They would find out eventually and hate you. Its fine. May as well enjoy one hug. Tear flow freely as you cry, hands balling into the soft material of his sweater. It was everything you ever imagined. "I've got you." He whispers, hand resting on your back smoothing down- from the back of your neck, shoulders, and then freezing at the bottom of your shoulders. Where the base of your wings pressed awkwardly into your skin. He hates you. You didn't need to see his face to know that. Any second Grian would jerk away from you just like he did-

"You have wings."

...

It was...breathless, as if the realization punched the air from his lungs. Yet...it wasn't scornful. "You have wings!" He exclaims, leaning back to look at you, but still holding your waist close. What was he thinking? didn't he find you disgusting?

Delight lit up his features. Sparkling his eyes like when he's had a particularly good idea. Delight...he didn't hate you? "You didn't tell me!" He briefly frowns, but seems to excited to let it last. "Can I see them? Why do you have them all wrapped up? That has to hurt, is this the reason your upset?-" He starts fretting, moving away from you to try peek at the newfound limbs. You were stunned.

So he didn't hate you. Instead..he seems rather excited? There was no disgust or pity in the way he fluttered about, hands moving yet not touching out of respect. You say nothing, unable to formulate words to fully describe the situation. "We should go to my base!" He declares, "There you can show me them- its more private." He reaches for your hand like he would with any other hermit, then pauses. Remembering his manners. "That is...if you want?"

What did you want?

You wanted him to hug you again- that was given. You did want to get rid of the bandages, but the prospect of showing your wings was terrifying. But there was no hesitation from Grian, just acceptance and excitement. Maybe...maybe you could? He was an avian as well- even moreso then you. So maybe he would be okay? Plus- if you wanted anyone to know. You wanted Grian to know.

"I want to." The words sounded foreign on your tongue, as if you yourself were not speaking them. With it came a spark of excitement. Grian's grin couldn't be bigger, and he grabbed your hand. The contact made your head spin. The vague realization that he's touched you so much- and now that the cat is out of the bag- he'll touch you more.

He pulls you along, letting you walk in silence as your head spins with possibilities. What would he say about the colour of your wings? Black had always been frowned upon, its why others hated you so much. It was seen as an omen, bad luck, death. It was why you had stopped flying- although also because it brought an unfair advantage. You were just lucky they didn't cut off your wings.

"We're here." Grians voice makes you jump, "Sorry." he apologizes immediately. You shake your head in dismissal, gesturing for him to enter. Without missing a beat, he opens the door, nudges you in, and follows, closing the door. It was warm inside, you knew Grian had a weird thing with liking the warmth. Not that you minded, the calm, comforting atmosphere wrapped easily over your heavy mind. Easing some tension from your shoulders. Grian guides you to his bedroom, a place you've been only a couple times. Dropping in through the window to scare him, wandering in during a conversation. But now, it was...different. His soft grip leads up to sit on his bed. You sink into the many layers of blankets. The topmost one is fluffy and soft, you want to curl up on it and nap. Alas, you would get no such luck, as Grian stands in front of you expectantly. His clawed feet click against the wooden flooring as he turns to face you completely. You must have a look of your face, because Grian's eyes soften.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want-"

"I said I did." You snap back a little to quickly, cringing at your tone. "Sorry-" you take a deep breath, "I'm just nervous."

"Thats okay." He reaches forward slowly, giving you opportunity to pull away. When you don't, his careful palm rests on your cheek. Pulling heat to your face. "Turn around." He requests, and you obey. Tucking your legs up onto the bed, and shuffling around. Missing his hand when it leaves your cheek. "May I remove your sweater?" He asks, excitement clear in his tone, as he tries to stay calm for you. You nod, and shudder slightly as his fingers brush against your skin.

The garment is pulled up, and you help him by removing your arms. It's tugged over your head- and dropped into a heap on the floor. He sucks air through his teeth. A flash of guilt makes you cringe. He was disappointed. "...Why do you bind them?" He asks, sadness coating the tone. You can feel his claws brush against sensitive limbs and the wrapping pinning them down. Why do you bind them? Shame. Shame at their colour- what they stood for. The unfair advantage, and how he- the tightening in your chest reminded you bitterly of your last server. How poorly they handled your wings. You were disgusting.

"I hate them." You whisper, venom dripping from the words. "They make me disgusting."

"No." Grian says sharply. No? No?? "They make you beautiful- special." slowly, the pressure on your chest lessens, and you realize he's loosing the bandages. "They are something to be treasured, taken care of." you can feel your feathers settle as the binds leave. "You are so strong, and you deserve to be proud of them- you deserve to be proud of you."

"Grian." You shake your head, disbelief coursing through you veins. He was flattering you- he didn't really believe it-

"Spread your wings for me." He breathes, warm hand placed between where you wings meet on your back. Maybe it was an instinctual part of you to want to show off- maybe it was the way he said it- maybe it was the influence he had on you-

The limbs were painful and sore, shaking as you extended them. Yet, satisfaction burned. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the shiny black feathers. The silence hits you suddenly, and insecurity grows-

"You're gorgeous." Grian mutters, and heat flushes your cheeks. You want to tell him no- protest- but the sheer affection in his voice pushes the air from your lungs and coats your mind. You wanted to be doted upon- and here he was. Goosebumps prickle up your spine and across your arms as his fingers begin to deftly move. Sifting through the tattered feathers. You feel him remove one- a small sting of pain. When your wing's flutter he jerks back. "Sorry- I didn't ask-"

"What were you doing?" You interrupt, curious more then wanting him to stop touching you.

"I was preening you- its an avian thing where I remove all the broken feathers and clean the dirt out." He explains, no judgement in his tone. You hum, extending your wings to his mercy one again. He gets the idea- and the gentle movement returns.

It was mesmerizing. His gentle breathing, the darkness of the room, the soft sifting of feathers. His claws deft and smooth, removing some soreness and ache caused by your neglect. Shivers races up your spine, and relaxation grips your every limb. You find your head drooping- eyelids heavy. So much touch- it was wonderful.

"Sleepy?" Grian asks lightly, chuckling. You cant formulate a response, humming instead. He stops preening and you whine- he shushes you. "Lay down- lets nap." You can argue with that. Flopping forward you burry your face into that plush blanket. Grian's weight shifts the bed next to you, his wing brushes your own. Then, his arms pull you closer, nestling you against his side while his wings tangle in your own.

You've never cuddled anyone before- let alone slept next to them- and the warmth was almost too much. Exhaustion pulled down, and pleasant fuzziness encapsulates your being.

Grian didn't hate you. He loved your wings.

It would take a long time to get used to Grian knowing about your wings- and the physical contact that came with it.

But you were so excited.

#hermitcraft fic #hermitblr #hermitcraft #hc9 #hermitcraft x reader #hermitcraft fandom #hermitshipblr #hermitshipping #grian #grian tag #winged grian #grian x reader #atlas writes #hermitcraft fanfic

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adobe-outdesign · 4 months

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For neopet's review's would love to hear your thoughts on lenny's! I think they have some really nice color's

Lennies are one of many bird Neopets, but they do have one thing that immediately helps them stand out: their anatomy, which is more akin to a shorebird or emu than the standard songbird. Originally their head feathers were part of a jester's cap of sorts, and while the jester idea was lost over time (if it was even intentional to begin with), the distinctive head and tail feathers remain.

Color-wise they're about as simple as you can get, using one primary color with an accent (orange in the base colour, variable otherwise) for the legs and beak. They can get away with having no markings because of their very lean bodies, and the wings also help break things up a bit.

Lenny didn't really change in any notable way with customization, outside of becoming a little less excited and vaguely gaining a fist, which isn't too noticeable due to them having wings.

Favorite Colours:

Faerie: I really like how the faerie Lenny is vaguely based off a peacock (though unlike peafowl, this is a gender-neutral design), but it doesn't take it overly literally, serving more as an abstract reimagining. The Lenny's default three tail feathers are still there, but they've been made much longer and given a side span of other tail feathers to join them. They also have beautiful layered wings with secondary eyespots and much more pronounced head plumage than an actual peacock. The color palette is also beautiful, using blues, teals, and magentas together with lots of layering and markings. Really nice.

The UC/styled version is a bit better than the converted, as while both are similar, the converted inexplicably kept the three tail feathers where they are normally, along with missing the cheek feathers and slightly loosing the wing eyespots. Plus, of course, the pose is much nicer.

Burlap: The burlap Lenny was the first ever burlap pet, and was in fact the design shown in the "choose a new colour" poll that burlap originates from. I feel like over time this colour has unfortunately become too much like plushie 2.0, but this original concept is fantastic—ultra creepy, with dead black eye buttons, tattered burlap wings, and miscellaneous pieces of junk for the legs and beak. (The scrap metal in particular was completely lost over time for this colour, and is really something they should bring back in the fold.) Awesome option for people who like creepier colours (it's me, I'm people who like creepier colours).

Relic: Relic pets sometimes get way too overblown, but this one is really nicely balanced—just plain, nicely shaded stone with lots of little cracks. There's some moss, but it's kept to the minimum and is carefully placed in a surprisingly realistic way. The tail feathers are the real standout however; instead of making improbable thin stone ones, they're instead a few budding roses. Love it.

BONUS: The only reason the mutant Lenny is a bonus is because... it's not really that mutant-y? Like, that's just straight-up a vulture (reinterpretated, much like the faerie Lenny, which I always like). Even by Lenny standards, the only real differences are clawed wings, shorted legs, different tail feathers, and a single backwards-facing head plume instead of two.

However, technicalities aside, this is a gorgeous design. I really like the layered look of the wings, and I appreciate that it's not 1:1 a real vulture, lacking any pink or black in the design and having clawed wings. Artwork's the same as it was pre-customization, so it unsurprisingly also looks great.

#neopets #neotag #neopet reviews #lenny

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dnpanimationstudioclone · 7 months

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Vaggie Redesign🦋

Made my own version of Vaggie for fun! Out of everyone so far, redesigning her was the funnest to play around with. There was a lot to consider!!! Spoiler alert for those who haven’t watched the show!

One big thing I had to consider about was her moth motif🦋. I redesigned her hair to be more moth like, the type that have eye patterns like the emperor moth! I think it’s super cool but also…Angels and Eyes👁️(I can imagine the eyes react with her main one) Plus Eyes in general have always been a big motif for her. I also made her feet more stubby, to give off how they were changed becoming a sinner. I def wanted to give off her coming off as unintentionally unsettling as moths can be lowkey scary lol, but also show a struggle of hers is being more down to earth and approachable to others.

Made her hair SUPER longer for the patterns but also give off how if makes up a lot of her, moths got big wings. I read sinners forms have a sorta punishment to them and I imagine for Vaggie, her hair can’t be cut. It can but it would grow back to the same length soon. So it’s def been a struggle for her along with her new feet to figure out how to deal with, especially for combat. Also replaced the bow with actual antennae and made her eyebrows have more hair too! At first I was gonna add the bow to show her using it some way to put up her hair but with how big it is and adding antennae I just got rid of it, making those allude to a bow instead 🎀

For my HH Gang, I’m going for a Rainbow Motif(I think we all know why), for Vaggie she’s more Indigo. Blue(color close to Heaven) but also a little mix of Red(Charlie & Hell). Also has a lot of different symbolisms that I think work well for Vaggie!!!!!!! And in her old looks she had a lot of blues(many such as navy blue belong in the indigo territory) that I decided to re-incorporate into her look. She’s the blue to Charlie’s Red❤️💙Also has a dark purplish red to show the uniforms she’s wearing is older but still connect her to the Hotel and Charlie❤️🌈.

Made her skin more purplish. I can imagine��.back then it used to be gray or grayish blue but time in Hell added more color💜💜💜💜💜

ANOTHER really big thing was her fashion. For my Vaggie, she’s basically wearing an old Bellhop uniform from the Hotel’s past(moths may have done some damage prior, lol) hence the tatters, she likes it as it shows she’s part of the Hotel and protective enough but also not too stuffy to stop her from being active. I def was leaning into her being the Hotel’s security. She’s also wearing straps for putting her spear away, a hooded shawl, which I was inspired from one of her concept looks with ripped tights and boots. Def kept the long fingerless gloves with some protective wrap!!!!!!!!!

She’s also wearing a golden apple(HUGE motif with Charlie🍎) and also a huge symbol shown a lot through the hotel to show she’s part of it!…also added more hidden ❌ symbols.

I was def leaning towards business/subtle military/action girl for her. Talked about this with @a-sterling-rose that during development, she plays around with her look more, finding her identity more. I also wanted to give off a little mystery with the cloak. Show she’s someone with secrets…like being a former Top Exorcist. I REALLY WANT HER TO GET HER OWN PAIR OF ANGELIC BALLET SHOES FROM CAMILLE!!!!!🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

Gave her bigger lips 👄

Made her X sharper, make it look more wing like. Made her lashes more wing like too🦋

Put more weight & muscle on her💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪 show she’s got muscle and fun fact, moths got stout builds!!!!!!

Also redesigned her staff a bit to look more Eye like and added a wrap for grip(and that it may have been broken in the past).

Gave her a line under her eye, show she’s someone who works herself too hard ant time… and also give off she’s bit on edge about something…

Also I know there’s been discussions about her name, just wanted to say, if I was to change her name, I’d make it Polilla! Spanish for Moth🦋 I like the idea of exorcists being once humans who became Angels! So Vaggie’s def still got her Salvadoran roots! 🇸🇻 I can imagine she HATES when people call her “Polly” for short.

Also done designs for Charlie & Angel🍎🕷️

What do u think? I’d love to know!💖

#Hazbin hotel #vaggie #vaggie redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel redesigns #hh redesign #hh redesigns #my art #my redesigns #hazbin vaggie #vaggie fanart #Hazbin hotel fanart #hazbinhotel #hellaverse #Hazbin hotel vaggie #Vaggie redesign #vaggie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel rewrite

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jamdoughnutmagician · 1 year

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Creatures Of The Night (18+)

Vampire!Eddie x Werewolf!Steve X Reader

Summary:Not very much here in terms of plot if we're being brutally honest, just some very fun and sexy times involving some monster steddie!

Warnings:NSFW, 18+, Making Out, Teasing, Fingering, Size Kink (slightly), Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Brief F Receiving), Missionary Sex, Cuddles afterwards for good measure!

Word Count:2, 213

Authour's Note:Maybe i'm unhinged for writing this but i'm just here for a good time and to fuck monsters, if that's not your thing then maybe this isn't the fic for you.

Masterlist

It was only ever under the bright white light of the moon that their true forms revealed themselves to you. The pitch black midnight provided them the chance to present themselves as they truly are.

Eddie with his pale skin, red-rimmed dark eyes, and spread of imposing bat-like wings. His wicked smile proudly shows off his two prominent sharp, pearly teeth. A few of his long dark curls had fallen loose from the bun tied at the nape of his neck, framing his pale face. He’d long been drawn to you, the scent of your blood called out to him, a rich, cherry-sweet scent unlike anything he’d ever come across before. His nose would brush against your neck, as his tongue licked over the pulsing veins in your neck, and despite it all, he could never bring himself to sink his teeth in, never wanting you to come to any harm, especially not at his cost.

And Steve, who’s broad shouldered frame is covered in thick coats of soft brown hair, his usual hazel brown eyes now glowed a honeyed golden sparkle in the moonlit dark of the bedroom. Even in his shaggy, wolf-like form there was still something incredibly human about him. The glint in his eyes that lets you know that underneath it all, he was still just your Stevie, and nothing could ever change that.

Maybe the way that you three came together each night wasn’t the conventional thing that was expected of three young adults living together in a small and quiet town like Hawkins but somehow you managed to make your rather unconventional situation work.

Most people wouldn't look twice at your boys in the harsh light of day. Steve in his usual look of light wash denim and striped polo shirts, a normal everyday outfit for the common man in Hawkins. And Eddie clad in his typical garb of some metal band's tour t-shirt, black leather jacket and black ripped jeans leading down to an old pair of tattered dark DMs was a look that most people turned their nose up at with a scoff.

So yeah, mostly the residents of Hawkins, Indiana paid no mind to the two polar opposite boys who roamed their streets.

No. It wasn't until the sun dawned down each evening that your boys came out to play.

Being pinned between their two monstrous bodies was something that you welcomed. The touch of the supernatural was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

It started out as a typical night, with you in bed relaxingly cuddled against the warm, soft hairs of Steve’s chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with his soft brown coat. Your head resting against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

In stark contrast to the warmth you feel lying next to Steve, you feel Eddie’s presence sidling up beside you. The ice cold touch of his hand coasting up your arm as he leans in to press kisses along your collarbones, you feel his smirking smile against your skin as you shiver under his affections.

Eddie’s button-tipped nose is buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you with a deep breath, before pressing one more cold kiss just underneath your ear.

Steve wasn’t blind to what Eddie was trying to do, in fact he all but encouraged the vampire’s quest to arouse you. Steve quietly chuckled to himself as he felt you slyly trying to grind yourself naked body into his hairy thigh where your legs were tangled with his under the bed covers.

"Well would you look at that.." Steve's deep voice rumbles out "..it would seem as though our mate is getting a little squirmy from all those kisses your giving her, Munson"

"Indeed it would, Harrington. How about we do something about that, huh pretty girl?" Eddie asks you, his voice a low raspy whisper beside your ear.

You lift yourself from the soft comfort of Steve's chest to nod your head.

"I'm gonna need you to use your words, Sweet Thing." Eddie purrs out, ever the tease.

You nod your head once more

"Yes please.." you breathed.

"Always so polite.." Eddie smiles. He looks over to Steve and gives him a subtle nod of his head, which Steve understands right away, as his massive hands gently man-handle you into a position where you’re sat on the bed, with your body relaxing back against his soft furry chest, your head leaning against his shoulder.

Steve’s large hands are pawing at your exposed chest, squishing the soft flesh of your boobs under his rough touch. His fingers eagerly toying with your nipples, rolling each one between the calloused tips of his fingers. His lips hungrily sucks dark marks against your skin, trailing his kisses up the side of your neck.

“Hold her open, Wolfie.” Eddie commands Steve teasingly, knowing how much Steve hated Eddie’s affectionate nick-name for him.

Steve’s hands immediately skate down the sides of your body, his nails leaving light scratch marks as he does. His big hands settle themselves on the soft skin of the inside of your thighs before spreading them and holding them open.

Eddie stands up and makes his way over to where you're so tantalisingly spread out for him. Stalking the room, his dark eyes never leaving your exposed frame.

You watch his movements with anticipation. There’s a delicious heat that warms through you as you watch how he lewdly spits in his palm before dropping his hand down and teasing his cock in slow strokes, his thumb swiping over the mess of pooling pre-cum gathering at the tip as his fist strokes upwards making sure to glide over the prominent vein that runs the underside of his length.

"Don’t worry Pretty Girl, I'm going to make you feel real good, real soon" Eddie promised. "Just gonna let Harrington have his moment with you first, you know he's gotta stretch you out to get you ready for me"

You feel the insistent press of Steve's cock at your back and all too quickly you're reminded of why he has to stretch you out. In his human form Steve was not small by any shred of the imagination, but with enough prep and slow, gentle movements from both parties you could take him.

However, in his humanoid-wolf hybrid form it was a different story. Everything about him was bigger, in every sense of the word. Of course you’d tried to take him, so desperate to feel the stretch of him inside you, but it would be a while before you could accommodate the press of his thick length in your tight wet heat. For now you had settled on a happy medium of being opened up by the rough and calloused touch of Steve’s fingers.

Starting with only one of his fingers, carefully teasing his way around your pussy, gathering the wetness on the pads of his fingertips before drawing it up and rubbing on your clit in tight circles. His thick finger slips back down and slowly inches inside you, just letting you adjust to the feeling of his finger for a moment before he begins to thrust in and out of you.

Your head falls back against his chest whimpering quiet little moans into the crook of his neck.

“Aw, is Stevie making you feel good, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice taunts, a slight tone of condescension as he watches Steve slip another one of his fingers inside you, working them in and out of your wet cunt.

Steve noses into your hair, deeply inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo, little gruff whines of approval falling from his lips as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

"That's it…There's my good girl, gonna come from me, aren’t you, Sweet Thing?" Steve growls against your skin, his sharp teeth nipping little marks against your neck.

You whine and babble incoherently as Steve continues to thrust his fingers and rub your clit in quick circles, holding you close to his body.

Your orgasm rushes over you, clenching and pulsing against Steve’s thick fingers with a wet gush.

Steve gently rubs over your clit as tenderly as he can with his big pawing hands, helping you to come down from the high of your orgasm.

“There she is, my good girl…So sweet and pretty..” Steve breathes against your neck in-between placing tender to your skin.

“Think you mean our girl, Harrington. Thought you wolves were all about sharing with the rest of your pack, huh.” Eddie teases from where he’s sat on the edge of the bed, his dark brown almost black eyes scarcely tearing away from your steadily breathing frame. His long fingers are still slowly stroking over the length of his cock, keeping himself hard and ready just for you.

“You ready for me, Angel?” he asks, all too cocksure of the fact that you were never going to give him an answer short of a shy nod of your head and a breathy whine of ‘please’.

“I’m ready please, Eddie..I just want to feel you..” you plead desperately, which earns you a rumbling chuckle from the vampire above you.

"Well since you asked so nicely, who am I to deny such a request?" Eddie smiles broadly, bearing his pearly fangs to you.

He leans his head between your spread legs, where Steve’s big strong hands hold you open, and places one soft, solitary kiss against your clit before sweeping his tongue the length of your pussy, slurping up glistening wetness.

"You know I can never resist getting a taste of your sweet cunt, my Darling" he purrs “..but it’s only fair that Wolfie here gets to have a taste too..” before leaning over your shoulder and bringing Steve close with a cold hand snaked around the back of his neck, his long fingers tugging into the soft strands of Steve's scruffy hair. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s, his tongue slipping between his fangs to allow Steve to taste the sweetness of your juices in a heated and passionate kiss.

An appreciative growling hum resonates from the wolf as he licks his lips when Eddie pulls away from him.

“Always so sweet for us, Pretty girl..” Steve praises, making you beam under his affections.

“Oh! Does our pretty girl like being praised for being a good girl?” Eddie notes as he takes in the way you shy away into the crook of Steve’s neck.

Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

You shyly nod your head, your words failing you as you’re pinned between these two supernatural beings.

“Well since you’re being such a good girl for us, then I guess it’s only fair that Eddie gets to feel you come for him the way I did.” Steve tells you, his fingers running back up your body to toy with your nipples.

With one more breathy whimper of ‘Please’ falling from your lips Eddie takes his cock in his hand and begins to sink himself into you inch by inch.

Eddie rolls his hips into you, filling you so completely every time he thrusts into you. The cold touch of his fingertips make you shiver as they sink into the warm, soft flesh of your thighs.

Steve takes his opportunity to snake one of his hands down your body to rub circles over your sensitive clit.

“Keep that up Harrington, she’s squeezing me so tight, she feels like a fuckin’ dream” Eddie praises as he continues to rut his hips into you, hitting against that spot inside you that has a flaring heat building in your stomach.

The lewd sounds of Steve’s growled kisses against your neck, Eddie’s sloppy thrusts as he chased his orgasm, and your own whining whimpers resound in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

It didn’t take much more than a few sharp thrusts from Eddie hitting so deeply inside you and Steve’s pawing hands rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pleasure that you were coming around Eddie’s cock. Your orgasm shuddering through your body.

With the way your walls were squeezing him so tightly Eddie buried himself deep inside you once more before he was filling you with the hot spurts of his release.

Taking a moment to gather yourselves, Eddie slowly pulls himself out of your tight wet heat with a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve pulls your body back to his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and placing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head.

“Did so well for us sweetheart.” Steve praises once more.

“I love you, you know that, right? Both of you?” you say, looking between the two creatures.

“Yeah we know you do, sweetheart, we love you too.” Steve smiles “Now, you get your blood-sucking ass over here, Munson. I’ve got two arms for a reason.” he smirks, gesturing to the other empty space in the large bed.

Eddie slinks over to the bed, sidling up to Steve, and for the rest of the night that’s how you two spend your time together. You and Eddie snuggled into the soft warmth of Steve’s chest, falling into a relaxed and easy sleep.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @munsonology @xxhellfiregirlxx

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #vampire eddie munson #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #Steve Harrington x female reader #werewolf steve harrington #steddie #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #monster bf #monster fucker

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