#❁ sometimes it is necessary to exchange a few words ; ask. ❁ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

therealcocoshady · 18 days ago

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Kinktober - Day 6 - Sex Work

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : For the "sex work" prompt of Kinktober 2024 I thought I'd mix it up with a request I received as well. Granted, it's playing on the words of the prompt rather than the actual theme but I hope you guys like it nonetheless ! ✨ Also, I did have a second idea, which I might end up doing too 😏

CW : Mention of sex work - Flirty texts - Mention of hook up

The studio was buzzing with energy as the podcast got underway. Marshall sat at the head of the table, wearing his usual hoodie and cap combo, arms crossed casually as he listened to the banter among the other rappers. One former D12 member had decided to launch a podcast and, when he was ask to be the first guest, he was happy to show up to support his friend. In the past years, he’d grown more and more picky when it came to doing interviews and appearances, but he was glad he did this, supporting his buddy and talking about hip-hop in general, instead of just him. It was much better than random journalists asking about his professional life. The conversation had flowed from the evolution of hip-hop to its biggest influencers, and now, they were moving into more contemporary topics—reviewing music videos from up-and-coming artists.

He wasn’t sure what to expect when they cued up the next video for review. When the host dropped your name, though, his head perked up. You, the firecracker of a lyricist he had been « mentoring » for a while now. You weren’t to Shady Records, but you had worked together enough for him to respect your raw talent and commendable work ethic. He had been kind enough to offer some guidance and even some beats from his vault, and while you were still making your way in the industry, you had already built a reputation as an outspoken voice in the game. You had a good rapport, too. In private, you’d shared more than just a few laughs, and there was a mutual admiration that sometimes tiptoed into the realm of flirtation—compliments exchanged, gazes held a bit longer than necessary—but nothing too serious. It was always playful, a line neither of you had crossed.

The host grinned, looking at Marshall. « So, this is Y/N’s latest track. It’s called ‘Sex Work’. You haven’t seen this one yet, have you? ». He shook his head, a little curious but still cool. « Nah, she didn’t send it to me. ». His friend looked at him and let out a laugh. “You’re in for a surprise, then”. The video started, and the beat dropped—a heavy bass line that immediately grabbed everyone’s attention. But it wasn’t just the music that made Marshall sit up a little straighter. The visuals hit hard. You were on-screen, dressed in bold, provocative outfits, your presence commanding the camera. The scenes shifted rapidly, moving through a series of sexually charged, daring shots. It was unlike anything you’d done before.

You were playing with the very imagery that dominated so much of hip-hop—the kind of objectification women often faced. Except you were not the object here. She was the one in control, flipping the narrative. The lyrics hit just as hard as the visuals, each line razor-sharp, calling out the double standards in the industry, using clever wordplay ad metaphors that drew a parallel between the music industry and sex work, too.

Marshall was caught off guard. The video was bold, even provocative. You were owning your sexuality in a way that was direct, unapologetic, and powerful. But then it hit him—some of the scenes were direct callbacks to his older videos. One shot mirrored the set of his “Superman” video, and in another, you were standing where one of his infamous adult actresses had stood, reclaiming that space. « Damn, » one of the other hosts on the podcast muttered, eyes wide. Marshall’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything. Not yet. The lyrics kept going, and it became clear what you were doing—turning the tables on the misogynistic narratives you had been surrounded by as an up and coming female rapper. The video wasn’t just about sex appeal; it was a statement. You were deliberately playing with the same imagery that had been used to objectify women for decades, challenging it, and throwing it back in everyone’s faces. By the time the video ended, the room was dead silent for a moment. The host was the first to speak. « Marshall, man… what are you thinking? ». He leaned back in his chair, taking a breath. He could feel the eyes on him, waiting for some kind of reaction, maybe even expecting. You weren’t playing by anyone’s rules and it was the type of attitude he respected, especially then someone pushed the pen that far. « Well, first off, » he said, glancing around the room before locking eyes with the host, « she killed that ». The other guys laughed, but he wasn’t joking. « She’s always been fearless with her lyrics, » he continued, « but this? This is next level. She’s calling out the hypocrisy in the industry, and she’s doing it in a way that makes you pay attention. It’s bold as hell. » He paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. « I didn’t expect her to take shots at some of the imagery I’ve used in my older videos, but I respect it. She’s making a statement. She’s an artist, it’s what she should be doing. It’s what we do as emcees, you know ? ». The others nodded, clearly impressed with his take. « So you’re not bothered by it? I mean, some of those scenes were pretty close to your old stuff ».

« Nah, » he said, shaking his head. « If anything, I think it’s cool. That’s the kind of artist she is—smart, sharp, and always saying something with her work. Whether it’s a track about life or, you know… this ». He chuckled a little at the end, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected you to pull something this bold. Sure, you had always been outspoken, always ready to challenge the norms, but this? This was next-level boldness. The conversation moved on to other topics, but Marshall’s mind lingered on your video. He knew it was going to blow up and, truth be told, he was curious to know where that was headed.

The days following the release of your music video and Marshall’s appearance on the podcast were a whirlwind of noise. Social media was ablaze with debates, and hip-hop blogs pumped out articles almost hourly, all focused on one central question: Was Y/N dissing Eminem ? Marshall, sitting in the comfort of his home, scrolled through his phone, shaking his head at the ridiculous headlines. « Y/N’s Bold Move: Diss or Power Play Against Eminem?" or "New Queen in Town? Is Y/N Coming for Eminem’s Throne? ». Everyone had their own theory, and the conversation was only growing louder. What had started as you making a critique of misogyny had snowballed into a supposed rivalry between you and Em—a narrative the media had hungrily latched onto. It wasn’t surprising to anyone, though. Of course it was going to make for good headlines and farm engagement rates, even though it was a shame to have it take away from the main topic. Interviews, radio shows, podcasts—everyone was asking the same question: What did Eminem think ?

Marshall had been ignoring the noise for as long as he could, figuring people would see the bigger picture. But the hype refused to die down. Paul’s phone blew up with texts and calls, from journalists looking for comments to fellow artists wondering if there was any beef brewing. His team’s inbox was flooded. He wasn’t surprised that you were stirring things up—you were unapologetically yourself, always—but the whole “diss” angle? That was ridiculous. A week after the video dropped, Marshall finally caved. He knew he had to address it, especially after hearing that some major podcasts were going to dive deeper into the so-called "feud." There was no way he’d let anyone twist this into something it wasn’t. It was sort of unlike him, but he was pissed off about lies being spread and people making headlines about an imaginary feud. He wouldn’t have cared to address it if it had been anyone else, but he actually liked and respected you. He also had enough self-awareness to know that, if he let the whole thing escalate, some people would take « his side » and turn on you. Frankly, he didn’t have the time or energy for some stupid quid pro quo situation and he deemed it best to address the topic.

That morning, he agreed to hop on a Shade45 radio show that had been asking him for a statement for days. As the interview started, the host wasted no time jumping into the topic. « Alright, Boss, we’ve got to get straight to it, » the host said, his voice filled with anticipation. « Y/N. We’ve all seen the video. She’s been pretty outspoken, and a lot of people are taking her comments about the double standards in hip-hop and the scenes from your old videos as… well, a diss. What do you think? ». Marshall took a deep breath and leaned forward into the mic, choosing his words carefully but keeping his usual bluntness. « Look, » he started, « Y/N is not dissing me. She’s not coming for me or trying to take shots. What she’s doing is making a statement. A damn good one, too. People keep saying she’s going too far or whatever, but this is the same stuff that I, and a lot of other artists, have done for years. She’s just flipping the script, and now, suddenly, people want to act like it’s a problem ». The host nodded, but there was still an edge of curiosity. « So, you’re not offended by her recreating some of your visuals? Some people took it as her calling you out ». Marshall smirked, shaking his head. « Nah, man. Y/N’s one of the most talented artists out there right now. She’s smart. She’s sharp. And she’s not afraid to say what’s on her mind, even if it makes people uncomfortable. That’s what makes her great. She’s doing exactly what artists are supposed to do—make people think, make people talk. It’s the same shit I have always done with my music. And if she’s calling out hypocrisy ? Good for her. I’ve been there. I know how that goes ».

He leaned back again, more comfortable now. « You know, I’ve worked with her, produced a couple of tracks for her, and I’ve always been impressed by how real she keeps it. She’s not here to play by anyone’s rules. She’s doing what she wants, and I respect that. If you’re mad at her for being direct, maybe it’s because you don’t like what she’s saying ». The host paused for a moment, letting Em’s words settle. « So, to be clear—you fully support what she’s doing? ». « Yeah, » Marshall said without hesitation. « Y/N’s just getting started, and if people are mad now? They better buckle up, ‘cause she’s only going to keep pushing boundaries. She’s not afraid to call out the industry for its hypocrisy. And if anyone thinks she’s dissing me, they’re missing the point. She’s making space for herself, and she’s doing it her way. That’s what being an artist is all about ». The host grinned, seemingly satisfied with his take. « Well, there you have it, folks. Marshall’s got nothing but respect for Y/N. » Marshall chuckled, nodding. « Damn right. I’ll say this though : I’ve spent enough time with her to know that it’s more fun to be her friend than to be her enemy. So, anyone who’s been talking shit… Better be ready ».

After the podcast dropped, the noise around the supposed « diss » started to die down. Marshall’s words carried weight, and now that he had set the record straight, the media was forced to pivot. Instead of focusing on a non-existent feud, the conversation shifted toward what you had always intended—your critique of double standards. Now that people didn’t worry about a possible feud, they seemed more disposed to focus on the subject matter and the narrative surrounding you quickly took a much more positive turn. That evening, Marshall was sitting in his home studio, tweaking some beats when his phone buzzed on the table next to him. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen.

Y/N : Thanks for having my back.

He stared at the text for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. He wasn’t surprised you’d reached out; after all, you weren’t the type to let things go unacknowledged. He liked that about you. But he could tell by the simple message that you appreciated the support more than you’d probably say out loud. He picked up his phone and tapped out a reply.

Marshall : Always. Not that you needed it, though.

He fully meant it when he said that you didn’t need his support. He knew for a fact that you’d clap back if needed. There was a brief pause before your next message popped up.

Y/N : Yeah, but you saying it shuts up a lot of people.

He chuckled to himself, nodding as he read the words.

Marshall : Let ‘em talk. You’re doing your thing. If they’re mad, that means you’re doing something right.

Y/N : Guess I learned from the best.

Marshall leaned back in his chair, looking at your message for a second before typing a final reply.

Marshall : Nah, you’re making your own lane. Keep killing it.

He put his phone down, guessing the conversation was probably over for the night. But even as he turned back to the track he was working on, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride. You were carving out your own space in the industry, no matter how many people tried to twist her message or pit you against him. In the short while he’d known you, he had seen you evolve as an artist and, since you’d never failed to share how much his music had shaped your artistry, he felt proud.

Y/N : Also, I’m glad that you got what I did with the references to your video. It was an hommage, not a shot.

Marshall grinned, running his thumb over the screen as he typed his reply.

Marshall : Oh, I know. But now I’m thinking, if it was an hommage, why didn’t you just ask me to be in it ?

The dots on the screen danced for a moment, and then your reply came through, as sharp as your lyrics.

Y/N : I was only hiring professionals. ;)

Marshall laughed out loud, shaking his head. He liked your quick wit, the way you never backed down from a little back-and-forth. If anyone else had thrown that line at him, he might’ve let it go. But not you.

Marshall : You don’t think I’m professional enough?

Y/N : In music ? Sure. Can’t speak for the rest, though.

There was a pause as he crafted his next response, his smirk growing wider. He enjoyed it too much, couldn’t help himself.

Marshall : If you want to find out just how professional I can get, all you gotta do is ask.

He sent the message, leaning back on his chair. He could practically feel the heat of your flirtation building through the screen. You didn’t take long to reply, as bold as ever.

Y/N : Oh, I’ll keep that in mind.

There was no more texting that night, but the tension lingered in the silence that followed. Your dynamic had always teetered on the edge of something more, something neither of them had fully explored. Both of you had always kept it on the safe side. The energy between them you felt charged in a way it hadn’t before, following these texts and he liked it. There was something irresistible about a beautiful woman who was also smart and bold. However, he chose not to let it get to his head, not wanting to be that guy. Being a woman in a male-dominated industry, you probably had enough of those, even though he wouldn’t mind showing you the extent of his bedroom skills. He meant it, though. All you had to do was ask. He had made a point to avoid getting involved with celebs and fellow artists but he’d gladly make an exception for you.

Weeks later, the two of you found yourself in New York for an awards show. The ceremony was everything you’d expect—long, loud, and full of celebrities. But Marshall wasn’t really focused on the stage. He hadn’t seen you yet, but he knew you were there. He’d heard your name more than once as people in the crowd gushed about you, your bold video, and the statement you’d made in the industry. Your viral video had made you gain tons of recognition and everyone was gushing about you, even the ones who had been quick to assume you were dissing him in a desperate clout-chasing attempt. After the show, as he headed back to his hotel room, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

Y/N : Nice performance tonight. Very professional. The Bradford. Suite 1602. If your offer still stands.

Marshall stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the message. The directness of it sent a jolt through him. There wasn’t any question about what you were implying. The words lingered on his screen, bold and unflinching, just like you. For a moment, he just stood there, processing. Then, without a second thought, he found himself heading toward the exit of his hotel. There was no hesitation now. His heart picked up speed as he walked out into the night, flagged down a cab, and gave the driver the name of your hotel, not too far from his. The drive was short, but each second felt drawn out, like anticipation was pulling time apart. As the cab pulled up in front of The Bradford, Marshall stepped out, the city lights glowing faintly around him. He walked through the doors and headed straight to the elevator, heart pounding just a little harder with each passing floor. When he reached your floor, the quiet of the hallway contrasted sharply with the rush of energy coursing through him. He stopped in front of Suite 1602, staring at the number on the door for a moment before knocking, his mind running through the million ways this could go. The door opened slowly, and there you were, standing barefoot in a simple yet alluring outfit that somehow made his pulse race faster than anything you’d worn in that music video. Your eyes met his with the same fire he’d always admired, but now, it was mixed with something more, something unspoken between the two of you that had finally found its moment. « Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up, » you said, your voice low but teasing. Marshall smirked, stepping inside. « Told you all you had to do was ask ». You grinned back, eyes glinting as you shut the door behind him. « Well, I am asking ».

If you liked this and want to support a struggling student, you can buy me a cup of coffee. ☕️

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem imagine #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #kinktober #eminem kinktober

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baelarys · 4 months ago

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𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

Warning : Incest,I think that's all I can warn you.

word count : 1463(A little short but I plan to do part 2)

It felt as if something had stopped, as if something were happening, or we were waiting for it. King's Landing was not known for being peaceful; even if you were tucked away in the confines of a castle, you always perceived that environment of restless people looking for something to fill their stomachs with food.

I look expectantly out my window overlooking the city; how small it seemed from here. You could hear the roars of some dragons at the Dragonpit in the distance. Maybe I'll go flying with Cannibal later.

—It looks like it will be a quiet day, don’t you think? —I ask in a friendly manner. The maids pause for a moment, exchanging looks to see who will respond. It is not common for nobles to address them unless giving orders, and it seems they do not like to chat with us either. —I think so, princess —replied the one braiding my hair.

I leave my room heading to the library. —Good morning, sir —I greet Ser Cedric of Blackwood in a friendly manner. Ser Cedric has accompanied me since I arrived at King's Landing for my marriage to Prince Aemond, a tedious but apparently necessary union to prevent a family feud. —Good morning, princess —

––

I close the book I'm reading as I look around. The library is one of the few places in the Red Keep where there are no servants everywhere or lords and ladies of the court. My senses fill with the smell of books and humidity emanating from the thousands of books with the history of Westeros and ancient Valyria.

I get up and dust off my dress from the books, heading to the entrance to the training yard. I have not seen Aemond since last night and what is left of this morning.

I step into the training yard, where the sound of swords clashing and men training resonates in the air. In the distance, I spot Aemond, the prince I married for political reasons. He looks focused, handling his sword with grace and strength. I approach with a steady step, trying not to interrupt his practice.

Aemond is no longer the shy, withdrawn boy he once was. He remains quiet, but will speak if necessary. We are not the most affectionate with each other, but we have been friends since childhood; we got along well, played together, and shared lessons, spending much time together until that night in White Harbor, where he lost his eye and claimed Vhagar. He became more confident and his interest in swords and political matters grew, unlike Aegon, whose interest in women and alcohol distracts him from his duties.

—wife —Aemond Greeting after finishing a training session and approaching me along with Ser Criston Cole, a Kingsguard, with his usual hateful look. —Princess —he said with a slight bow.

—To what do I owe your lovely presence here? —Aemond asked ironically, with that haughty look, something common in him.

—I haven't seen you since this morning, I wondered where you were —I replied calmly as we walked back inside the castle. —Do you want to have breakfast with me? It seems today will be a quiet day —I ask cheerfully. It is not common for us to do things together besides our marital duties, but sometimes his company is comforting.

The morning sun casts a golden light over the castle gardens as we enjoy our breakfast in a quiet corner. Aemond and I talk about memories from our childhood, carefully avoiding any mention of the incident at White Harbor that could sour our conversation.

At that moment, a nursemaid approaches with Maegor in her arms. His platinum, curly hair is a constant reminder of his Valyrian heritage. Aemond and I exchange smiles upon seeing our son, whose gray eyes shine with curiosity as he looks around.

—Come here, love! —I exclaim affectionately, extending my arms to receive him. The little one wriggles with excitement and stretches his arms toward me, eager to be in my embrace.

Aemond watches with pride and affection as Maegor settles in my arms. —He looks more and more like you —he comments with a smile, gently stroking our son's head. —And he has your eyes —I respond with a smile, admiring Maegor's curls as he plays with my necklace.

I walk towards Helaena's room with Maegor in my arms. The guards open the doors to the room, revealing the pattern of greens and golds characteristic of the Hightower family adorning the marble walls, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the windows. And there she is, as calm and kind as always.

Helaena was beautiful, with the silver hair so distinctive of them and the beautiful sky-blue eyes.

I place Maegor on the floor next to the twins, gently caressing their heads. I slowly approach, with soft steps, watching Helaena as her hands moved gracefully over the embroidery. The sunlight made her silver hair shine even more, and her blue eyes reflected an inner peace that had always fascinated me.

—Aunt Helaena —I said in a low tone, almost whispering, not to startle her. She looked up from her work, blinking slowly before giving a warm, gentle smile.

—Y/N, what a pleasant surprise —she responded softly, her words flowing like a calm melody. Her fingers never stopped moving over the embroidery, creating the image of a spider with almost magical precision.

I sat next to her, admiring the skill of her hands and the calm she radiated. Helaena always seemed to be in a world of her own, a place where time passed at a different pace. —You are embroidering a spider today. Does it have any special meaning? —I asked, knowing that each of her creations carried a hidden message. Helaena nodded slowly, her gaze becoming distant, as if she were seeing beyond the walls of the room.

—Spiders weave their webs, Y/N. They catch what approaches carelessly. Sometimes, what seems insignificant can have a great impact —she said in a dreamy tone. Her response left me thoughtful. Helaena had a unique way of seeing the world, always finding connections and hidden meanings in the everyday.

—Is something troubling you, Lena? —I asked, trying to decipher the message behind her words. She looked at me intently, her blue eyes reflecting something deep and mysterious. —The future is always in motion. There are pieces moving on the board that we cannot see yet —she said, her voice like a whisper. I nodded, feeling the weight of her words. Helaena always had a gift for seeing beyond the obvious, and her predictions were both a warning and a comfort.

She directed her gaze to the children playing quietly on the floor, surrounded by nursemaids. —It is nice to have children in the castle, don't you think? It's fun —she said cheerfully.

Helaena placed her embroidery on her lap for a moment, her gaze calm but loaded with meaning. Her blue eyes met mine with complicity before she spoke. —I heard that your mother will be coming to King's Landing soon —Helaena said softly, as if sharing an exciting secret.

My eyes lit up with joy at the news. Rhaenyra, my mother, always unpredictable and full of energy, would undoubtedly bring her own dose of excitement to the castle.

—Really? How wonderful to hear! What brings her back? —I asked, excited at the prospect of reuniting with her again in the capital.

Helaena gently took my hand, transmitting a mix of calm and anticipation. —There have been rumors about the heir to the Driftmark throne. Ser Vaemond Velaryon is the one who started the whole matter —she explained, with a serene smile. I felt confused; Lucerys is supposed to be the heir to Driftmark, my grandfather, Ser Corlys Velaryon said so. Although it was naive to think such a problem wouldn't arise, Lucerys does not possess any characteristic features of the Velaryons; thick, dark, curly hair replaces the platinum hair of ancient Valyria.

—I understand, Lena. We will be ready to welcome her with open arms —I responded enthusiastically.

Helaena nodded, her gaze returning to the embroidery that lay on her lap, as the afternoon sun painted golden highlights in her silver hair. The atmosphere in the room became serene and welcoming again.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #house of the dragon season 2 #rhaenyra targaryen #aegon targaryen #aemond fanfiction #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #daemon targaryen #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd aemond

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lila-lou · 4 months ago

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✨ His second exception - Pt. 5/? ✨

Summary: The moment Ben found out you were pregnant was probably the happiest moment of his life. However, happiness proved fleeting. Now, he is faced with the aftermath of his shattered dreams. Of what is left of you, and what is left of him.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben, Reader having another stupid idea

Word Count: 6701

A/N: This is the sequel to “His only exeption” - and Part 5 of "His second exception".

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

It had been 12 weeks since you lost your baby. Last week, Ben finally got rid of the broken furniture, a small step towards healing. Today was your first day back at work, and you felt a mix of anxiety and determination as you walked into the meeting room.

Ben had just announced you as his personal assistant, a decision that caught everyone off guard. You sat beside him at the head of the table, feeling the weight of the gazes from around the room. Annie and Butcher exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. Frenchie, however, couldn’t contain his excitement.

"Ah, it’s about time! Soldier Boy is back!", Frenchie exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "And now Butcher can suck it!".

Butcher scowled but didn't respond, his eyes flickering between you and Ben. Annie offered you a small, encouraging smile, but there was a hint of concern in her eyes.

Ben, sensing the tension, leaned forward, his presence commanding the room’s attention. “Let’s focus on what’s ahead and get back to work”.

You nodded in agreement, trying to project confidence even as your heart raced. The meeting continued, and you took diligent notes, immersing yourself in the tasks at hand. Despite the challenges, you were determined to prove yourself and support Ben.

After the meeting, as everyone was filing out, Butcher lingered behind. He walked over to you, his expression serious. “You sure you’re up for this?”, he asked, his voice low.

You met his gaze, nodding firmly. “I am”, you replied. “I need this”.

Butcher nodded slowly, seeming to accept your resolve. “Alright then. Just… take care of yourself”.

“I will, thanks”, you assured him.

As you turned to leave, Ben placed a reassuring hand on your back. “You did great”, he murmured.

Even though Ben wanted you to have a table in his office, you insisted on having your own space. You needed a bit of independence and the chance to carve out your own niche. Ben reluctantly agreed.

As you settled into your new office, organizing files and setting up your workspace, you heard a soft knock on the door. Looking up, you saw Annie standing in the doorway, her expression warm but concerned.

“Hey”, she greeted you with a small smile. “Mind if I come in?”.

“Of course not”, you replied, gesturing for her to take a seat. “What’s up?”.

Annie sat down, glancing around your office before meeting your eyes. “I just wanted to check on you”, she said gently. “It’s been a tough few months, and I know today must be a big step for you”.

You nodded, appreciating her concern. “It has been tough, but getting back to work feels… necessary. It helps to have something to focus on”.

Annie nodded in understanding. “I get that. Sometimes, keeping busy is the best way to cope. But don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. If you ever need to talk or take a break, I’m here for you”.

“Thanks, Annie”, you said, feeling a lump in your throat. “That means a lot”.

Annie hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I also wanted to ask… how are things with Ben? He still seems a bit off”.

You sighed, moving to the small couch in your office and gesturing for Annie to join you. She sat down beside you, her concern evident.

“He wants to try for a baby again. And since I told him I wasn’t ready, he’s been pretty grumpy and closed off. I don’t know how to deal with it”.

Annie nodded slowly, processing your words. “I understand where he’s coming from, but… you barely made it through the first few weeks of your last pregnancy. It was so hard on you”.

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. “I know. And the doctors have assured us that the V medication is ready this time, but that’s not the problem. The problem is… I can’t get.. intimate. My mind keeps telling me it’s wrong, like I’m betraying the memory of our baby”.

Annie reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “I understand you”, she said softly, her eyes full of empathy. “But that’s not how it works. You aren’t betraying your baby by trying to move forward. Grieving and healing can coexist. It’s okay to want happiness again, to want a future”.

You looked down, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. “But it feels like if I let go, if I move on… it’s like I’m forgetting him.. or her. Like I’m erasing what happened”.

Annie shook her head gently. “You’re not erasing anything. Your baby will always be a part of you, a part of your life. Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting. It means carrying that memory with you and finding a way to live with it”.

You sighed, the weight of her words sinking in. “I want to believe that. I really do. But it’s just so hard”.

“I know”, Annie said, her voice full of understanding. “Healing is hard, and it’s not a straight path. There will be good days and bad days. But you have to give yourself the grace to feel what you’re feeling without guilt”.

You nodded slowly, feeling the tension in your chest ease just a bit.

Annie took your hand, squeezing it gently. “You and Ben need to have a real conversation”, she said softly. “Lay down all your feelings, and try to understand each other. You need to help each other through this”.

You nodded, taking in her words. It was easier said than done, but she was right. You couldn’t keep avoiding the difficult conversations.

Annie hesitated for a moment, then continued. “You know, when Homelander attacked you… Ben was devastated. He thought he was going to lose you. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to save you, no matter the risk”.

You swallowed. You knew Ben had been worried, but you hadn’t realized the depth of his fear.

Annie sighed, her expression conflicted. “I hate to admit it, but I see now how much he actually loves you. He’s rough around the edges, but it’s clear he’d do anything for you”.

“I know he loves me. It’s just… complicated”.

Annie nodded. “I still have doubts about a supe baby, though. The risks for you are real, and I worry about what might happen. But if the V medication works and having another baby would help you and Ben move forward, I’ll do anything to support you”.

You felt a lump in your throat, the mix of emotions almost overwhelming. “Thank you, Annie. That means a lot. Really”.

She gave your hand one final squeeze before standing up. “Just promise me you’ll talk to him. Really talk to him”.

“I will”, you promised, watching as she left your office.

As the door closed behind her, you took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. Annie’s words echoed in your mind. It was time to have that difficult conversation with Ben. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was the only way to start healing and moving forward.

Later that day, as you were digging through some files in your office, you felt a presence at the door. Looking up, you saw Ben standing in the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you with a faint smile on his face.

It took a moment for you to register his presence fully. “Hey”, you mumbled, your attention shifting back to the files. “You and the team have a meeting with the President tomorrow evening”.

Ben raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Already got the President on speed dial, huh?”, he said, his tone cocky. “You’ve settled into this position pretty damn fast”.

You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing, the tension between you easing slightly. “Well, someone has to keep you and the rest of the team in line”, you replied, closing the file and looking up at him.

Ben chuckled, stepping further into the office. “Looks like you’re already making yourself indispensable… But seriously, how are you holding up?”.

Your smile faltered slightly, but you appreciated his concern. “I’m managing”, you said softly. “It’s a lot to take in, but it helps to have something to focus on”.

He nodded, moving closer until he was standing right in front of your desk. He looked down at you, licking his lips before speaking up. "You ready to go home?", he asked, his voice low and gentle.

You glanced at the clock, realizing how late it had gotten. "Yeah, I think I'm done here for the day", you replied, starting to gather your things.

He grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "If I hear one more complaint about Butcher insulting someone, I'm gonna smash some damn doors", he muttered, his frustration evident.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his irritation. “Butcher’s got a talent for pissing people off”, you said, shaking your head. “But let’s just get out of here before you end up breaking something for real”.

Ben’s expression softened at your laughter. “Good idea”, he agreed.

As you stepped inside your house, you immediately pulled off your heels, sighing in relief. Ben walked straight through the little hallway, clearly eager to relax after the long day.

“Ben”, you called out, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

He paused, rolling his eyes slightly before turning around. “I know, I know”, he muttered, placing his shield down and pulling off his boots like you always told him to. “Happy now?”.

You smiled, feeling a bit of the day’s tension melting away. “Yes, much better”, you replied, hanging up your coat. “Thanks”.

Ben grunted in response.

You made your way to the bathroom, starting to undress. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you sighed. Your stomach was perfectly flat again. Shaking off your thoughts, you gathered the new shampoo you recently bought and stepped into the shower. The warm water cascaded over you as you hummed your favorite song, trying to let the tension of the day wash away.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the bathroom door open. Suddenly, you felt two big hands cupping your hips from behind, making you jump slightly.

Ben’s voice was a low growl in your ear. “Since when the fuck do you not call me to take a shower anymore?”. He sounded slightly grumpy.

You turned your head to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “I didn’t know you wanted to join”, you teased lightly. “I thought you were tired”.

“I’m always tired”, he grumbled, his hands moving up to your waist, pulling you closer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you”.

You leaned back against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “Well, you’re here now”, you murmured. “So why don’t you help me with my back?”.

Ben reached for the shower gel, lathering it in his hands before gently massaging it into your back. His strong fingers worked in soothing circles, easing the tension from your muscles. As he continued, his hands gradually wandered lower, to your lower back, eliciting a content sigh from you.

You couldn’t help but tease him. “Getting a bit adventurous there, aren’t we?”, you chuckled softly, your eyes closing in pleasure.

Ben’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “Just trying to be thorough”, he replied huskily, his hands kneading gently. His touch was both comforting and arousing, and you melted into his embrace, letting the warm water and his ministrations ease your mind.

“Mmm, well, I appreciate the thoroughness”, you murmured, leaning back into him. The steam from the shower filled the small space, creating a cocoon of intimacy between the two of you.

Ben’s hands stilled for a moment, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “I love you”, he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and affection.

“I love you too”, you whispered back.

Ben’s hands brushed over your sides, his touch light but deliberate as he slowly moved them up, tracing the curve of your ribs. Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as his hands continued their journey upward, finally reaching your breasts. It had been weeks since he had touched you like this, and the sensation was almost overwhelming.

You leaned back against him, feeling the steady thump of his heart against your back. His fingers were gentle yet firm, and you could feel his breath warm against your neck. The combination of the hot water and his touch sent shivers down your spine.

Ben’s voice was low and rough, filled with longing. “I miss this”, he murmured, his hands continuing to explore your body. “I miss you”.

You struggled with your feelings, caught in a storm of emotions. The warmth of his touch, the familiarity of his embrace—it was all so intoxicating. Yet, your mind was in turmoil, screaming at you to stop, to remember the grief, to not allow yourself this moment of vulnerability and pleasure.

Your body responded on its own, the wetness forming between your thighs a stark contrast to the cold grip of your sorrow. You wanted to let go, to be with him fully, but the weight of your loss hung over you like a dark cloud.

“Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if I can…”.

He paused, sensing your hesitation, and pulled back slightly, turning you gently, to look at you. His eyes were filled with understanding and a hint of frustration. “I get it”, he said softly. “I don’t want to push you”.

You bit your lip, torn between your desire for him and the guilt that gnawed at you. “I want to be with you, I really do. But it feels like… like I’m betraying our baby by moving on”.

Ben’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “You’re not betraying anyone”, he said firmly. “Our baby will always be a part of us, but we need to find a way to live again. Together”.

You searched his eyes, looking for reassurance. His sincerity and love were undeniable, and for a moment, you felt the walls around your heart begin to crack.

“Just… be here with me”.

You nodded, feeling a small spark of hope. “Okay”, you whispered back, leaning into his touch.

Ben kissed you gently, a promise of patience and understanding. As the water continued to cascade around you, you allowed yourself to relax into his embrace, taking comfort in the fact that you didn’t have to face this journey alone.

Ben’s hands wandered to your ass, cupping it firmly as he lifted you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the strength in his arms as he supported you. He pressed you against the cold tiles, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours.

His lips found yours again, the kiss hungry and demanding. You could feel his need, his desire, in every movement. His other hand roamed over your back, holding you securely as his hips pressed into you, creating a delicious friction that made you moan softly into his mouth.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscles as you held on. The mix of sensations – the cold tiles, the hot water, Ben’s solid presence – was intoxicating.

Ben’s lips left yours, trailing down your jawline to your neck. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, making you shiver with pleasure.

You moaned his name, trying to tell him to stop, but the words hesitated on your lips. You wanted to enjoy it, to give in to the passion, but a part of you still resisted. As Ben’s erection pressed against your belly, you felt a surge of panic mingled with desire.

With a trembling hand, you pushed his chest back slightly. His mouth left your neck as he took a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and concern. You could see the effort it took for him to hold back, to keep his annoyance in check. After more than 12 weeks, his patience was wearing thin, but he didn’t want to hurt you.

“What’s wrong?”, he asked, his voice husky with restrained need.

You looked away, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. “I… I can’t”, you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the shower.

Ben’s hands, which had been gripping your hips, relaxed their hold. He stepped back, giving you space. You landed back on your feet.

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, but he masked it quickly, trying to be understanding.

“Okay”, he said, his voice softer now.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you hated how conflicted you felt. “I’m sorry, Ben. I really am”.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s fine”.

Ben kissed the top of your head gently, a gesture meant to reassure you, and you stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you glanced back at him. He stood still under the stream of water, his head bowed.

“Are you coming?”, you asked, nodding toward the door, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ben mumbled, “I’ll be out in a few minutes”.

You bit your lip, feeling a pang of guilt and self-reproach. You knew exactly what he was up to, and it tore at you that you couldn’t give him what he needed right now. You felt a mix of frustration and sadness as you left the bathroom, closing the door behind you softly.

The moment you were gone, Ben let out a deep, shuddering breath. His hand moved to the base of his dick, gripping it tightly. The frustration and desire that had been building up for weeks came to the surface.

His head leaned against the cool tiles, closing his eyes as he pictured your body, the way you felt under his touch. His mind replayed the moment in the shower, the intimacy they had shared so briefly. He wanted you so much, it ached.

With a deep sigh, Ben started to stroke himself, his hand moving with increasing urgency. The frustration and desire that had been building up for weeks surged through him, desperate for some sort of relief. The feel of his own touch was a poor substitute for you, but it was all he had right now.

His mind drifted back to the times when things were simpler between you two, when intimacy wasn’t tainted by grief and hesitation. He imagined your soft moans, the way your body responded to his touch, the heat and closeness of your shared moments.

The more he thought about you, the more his need intensified. His thumb brushed over the swollen tip of his dick, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He began to stroke faster and with more pressure, his hand moving with a desperate urgency.

He closed his eyes, picturing you beneath him, a moaning mess. He imagined the feel of your body wrapped around him, your skin hot and slick with sweat. In his mind, he could see the way your eyes would half-close with pleasure, the way your lips would part to let out breathless moans.

Ben’s strokes became even more frenzied as he pictured himself buried deep inside you, your legs wrapped around his waist. He could almost hear your voice, begging him to make you come, the sound driving him closer to the edge. He imagined the way you would arch your back, your nails digging into his skin as you came apart beneath him.

His breathing grew ragged, and he bit his lip to stifle the sounds threatening to escape. The pressure built to an almost unbearable peak, and with a final, shuddering gasp, he found his release. His body convulsed with the intensity of it, and he leaned heavily against the tiles, his mind still filled with images of you.

As the aftershocks of his release faded, a sense of emptiness settled over him. The physical relief was a temporary balm, but it did little to ease the deeper ache of longing and frustration. He turned off the shower and dried himself off, trying to push the conflicting emotions aside.

He wanted so desperately to help you heal, to bring back the intimacy you once shared. But he knew it would take time, and he needed to be patient, even though it was difficult.

Leaving the bathroom, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in your towel. You looked up as he entered, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions.

Leaving the bathroom, Ben found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in your towel. You looked up as he entered, your eyes filled with a mix of emotions. You knew what he had done, and you couldn’t even be mad at him. Instead, you were mad at yourself, feeling like a bad girlfriend for not being able to give him something so simple.

Ben was still tense, his body language showing he was still on edge despite his release. He hesitated for a moment.

“You okay?”, he asked, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, but your heart felt heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry, Ben”, you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s been hard on you, and I hate that I can’t…”.

He interrupted you. “Don’t apologize”, he said firmly. “It’s not your fault”.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I just feel like I’m failing you… again”, you admitted, the words spilling out in a rush. “I want to be close to you, but every time I try, it’s like I hit a wall”.

Ben sighed deeply, running his hand through his wet hair. He hesitated for a moment before walking over to you and squatting in front of you, taking your hands in his. His grip was firm, but you could feel the desperation in his touch.

“Please, tell me what you need”, he nearly begged, his voice raw with emotion. “How can I help you? It’s been over 12 weeks, and you’re still so sad. I hate seeing you like this, and I’m trying to be patient, but I need the old you back. I don’t know how much longer I can handle it”.

You looked into his eyes, seeing the pain and longing etched there. It broke your heart to see him like this, knowing he was suffering too.

“I don’t know what to say, Ben”, you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m trying to move forward, but it’s so hard. I miss the old us too, more than anything. I want to be close to you again, but every time I try, I feel this overwhelming sadness and guilt”.

He squeezed your hands, his eyes pleading. “What can I do? Just tell me, and I’ll do it. I want to help you, to make things better. I need you, more than you know”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. The idea that had been simmering in the back of your mind suddenly seemed like the only solution, even though it terrified you to voice it out loud.

“Maybe…”, you began hesitantly, your voice barely a whisper. “Maybe you should just…force me”.

Ben raised his eyebrows and he pulled back slightly, his grip on your hands loosening. “What?”, he asked, disbelief and concern mingling in his tone.

You looked away, ashamed and uncertain. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like I’m stuck in this cycle of fear and guilt. Maybe if you push me past it, I can break free. Maybe that’s what I need to start healing”.

Ben shook his head and stood up, his face contorted with a mix of anger and incredulity. “The fuck I will!”, he exclaimed, his voice echoing sharply in the room. He raised an arm in frustration, then quickly lowered it, trying to rein in his emotions.

“If I do that”, he continued, his voice still tense, “you’ll hate me. And then what? We’ll be worse off than we are now. I can’t… I won’t do that to you”.

You stood up, clutching the towel tightly around yourself, desperate to make him understand. “Ben, please. I know it sounds extreme, but I feel like I’m drowning here. I don’t see any other way to break out of this. I need something drastic to push me through this wall I’ve built”.

He shook his head again, more vehemently this time. “No. You’re asking me to hurt you, and I can’t do that. I fucking promised you I won´t ever do that again!”.

“But it’s the only way I can think of”, you insisted, your voice breaking. “I trust you. I know you won’t really hurt me. I just… I need to feel something other than this constant sadness”.

Ben’s eyes softened for a moment, the anger melting into something more like sorrow. “You don’t know what you’re asking”, he said quietly.

You took his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want it, Ben. Don’t you think your kisses or your touch don’t do anything to me? They do. It’s just that last bit I can’t get over”.

Ben rolled his eyes, halfway shaking his head in disbelief. He looked down at you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “I know exactly how this will go”, he said, his voice steady but filled with tension. “You’ll beg me to stop after just a bit, and if I keep going, you’ll hate me. Even if you’re begging me now, and even if I don’t hurt you physically, there’ll be so much emotional damage. I can’t risk that”.

By now, you had both of his hands in yours, gripping them tightly. “Please”, you begged quietly, tears welling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks. And there it was—the sight of you in tears, which always made Ben weak.

He stared at you, his resolve wavering. “I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help you heal, not make things worse”, he said softly, his voice filled with pain.

Your tears flowed freely now, and you looked at him with a desperate plea. “I trust you, Ben. I know you won’t really hurt me. Please”.

Ben sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your plea. He bit his tongue, trying to contain the turmoil swirling inside him. Carefully, he pulled you close against his chest, his chin resting gently on the top of your head. The warmth of your body against his, the scent of your hair, it all flooded his senses.

He had promised himself he would never hurt you again, and now here you were, asking him to do just that, tears streaming down your face. His heart ached with the conflict of wanting to ease your pain and protect you from any harm.

His mind raced, torn between his love for you and the fear of causing irreparable damage. He wasn’t sure what was right anymore, what he should do to help you heal. His thoughts circled back to the countless conversations, the nights spent awake wondering how to bridge the gap between you.

“I…”, Ben began, his voice thick with emotion. He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I want to help you, more than anything”, he finally said, his words measured and gentle. “But hurting you isn’t the answer”.

Ben sat down on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on you. His expression softened, filled with a mixture of tenderness and concern. He took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees.

“Take that off”, he ordered gently, nodding towards the towel wrapped around you.

You hesitated, unsure of his intentions. His voice was soft, but his request felt loaded with unspoken emotions. Slowly, you untied the towel, letting it fall to the floor beside you. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his next move.

Ben stood up, closing the distance between you. He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he traced the curve of your shoulder. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were afraid you might break.

“I can’t do this the way you’re asking”, he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can be with you in another way”.

With careful movements, he lifted you up and gently placed you on the bed, the cool sheets beneath you contrasting with the warmth of his touch. Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling heavily with anticipation and uncertainty.

Ben climbed onto the bed, positioning himself above you. He pulled off his own towel, letting it fall to the floor. As he settled between your thighs, you felt a rush of heat and longing. His presence was comforting yet electrifying, a mix of familiarity and the unknown.

He leaned down, his lips finding your neck. He started to kiss you softly, each touch gentle and deliberate. His lips moved from your neck to your collarbone, trailing a path of warmth and tenderness. Your body responded to his touch, your skin tingling under his kisses.

Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. Ben’s kisses became more insistent, his breath hot against your skin. He took his time, exploring every inch of your neck and shoulders, making you feel cherished and desired.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. Ben’s hands roamed over your body, caressing and soothing, his touch a promise of more to come. He shifted slightly, adjusting his position to be closer to you, his hips pressing gently against yours.

"You okay?". His voice was filled with concern and tenderness. You nodded, your body craving more, yearning for his touch.

Ben's hot hardness pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending another wave of heat rushing through your body. But instead of moving forward, he continued to kiss your body, his lips tracing a path down your ribs and over your stomach. As he did, he felt you tense up, a small shiver running through you.

Without any words, he understood. He kissed back up toward your chest, his movements slow and deliberate. For him, it was pure torture. He could smell your arousal, his own need building to an almost unbearable peak, but he didn't push you. He knew how fragile this moment was, how important it was to go at your pace.

His lips found their way to your breasts, placing soft, gentle kisses around your nipples. His hands caressed your sides, moving in soothing circles, trying to ease the tension from your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He paused for a moment, looking into your eyes. "I love you", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "And I want you to feel safe with me".

You nodded again, your eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and longing. "I do, Ben. I do".

Ben resumed his kisses, moving down to your stomach again, his hands never leaving your skin. His touch was reverent, almost worshipful, as he kissed every inch of you, making you feel cherished and desired. He wanted to show you that his love was unwavering, that he was willing to wait for as long as it took for you to be ready.

As his kisses moved lower, your breath hitched, your body responding to him in ways you hadn't expected. He could feel the heat radiating from you, and it took everything in him to hold back, to not give in to his own desire.

But he did, because he loved you. And that love was stronger than any physical need.

Ben paused at the top of your thighs, looking up at you for permission to continue. You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. He kissed your inner thighs, his touch sending shivers through you, every kiss intensifying the heat building inside you.

"Tell me if you want me to stop", he mumbled against your skin, his voice a low, soothing murmur. His lips inched forward, closer and closer to your glistening clit, each kiss bringing a new wave of sensation.

You trembled beneath him, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. "I will", you whispered, your voice shaky with a mixture of desire and nervousness.

His breath was warm against your most sensitive spot, and when his lips finally brushed against your clit, a soft gasp escaped your lips. The touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you arch your back slightly.

Ben's tongue flicked out, teasing you with light, careful strokes, testing your reaction. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, reading your body, making sure you were comfortable with each step. His hands held your thighs gently, spreading you open for him, his fingers caressing your skin.

"Is this okay?", he asked, his voice barely audible between his soft kisses and strokes.

"Yes", you breathed, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. "Please, don't stop".

Ben continued, his tongue moving with more confidence now, exploring you with a mix of tenderness and passion. Each movement was designed to build your pleasure slowly, to make sure you felt every single sensation. He wanted to bring you to the edge and back, to make you forget everything but the feeling of his mouth on you.

As the pleasure built, you felt your body responding, your hips moving instinctively against him. The sounds of your soft moans filled the room, blending with the rhythmic beat of your heart.

He didn't rush, savoring every moment, every reaction. His own arousal was nearly unbearable, but he focused entirely on you, on making you feel cherished and loved. He wanted this to be more than just a physical release; he wanted it to be a step toward healing, a way to rebuild the connection between you.

Ben's tongue circled your clit, his movements becoming more intense as he felt you getting closer. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with love and devotion, silently asking if you were okay, if you were ready to let go.

You felt yourself on the brink of climax, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation. But just as you were about to let go, something inside you snapped. Panic surged through you, and your hands found Ben’s shoulders, pushing him weakly away.

“Stop”, you breathed, your voice shaky.

Ben looked up at you, his face a mask of desperation and confusion. But he just nodded, his eyes filled with concern and disappointment, and pulled away. He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, his own arousal evident and unfulfilled.

You felt a mixture of relief and frustration wash over you. His mouth had made you feel so good, almost too good, and your mind couldn’t handle it. The sweet release you had been on the edge of was now just out of reach, leaving you feeling empty and conflicted.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I couldn’t”.

“It’s okay”, he said, his voice strained. “I understand”. But the look in his eyes told you how much this was affecting him, how hard it was for him to hold back and not push for more.

Ben wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He lay down beside you, his body tense and his mind racing. You sat up slightly, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

Your eyes met Ben’s, and you saw the strain in his expression, the way his jaw was clenched and his chest heaved with each breath. You could tell he was trying to keep it together, to be strong for both of you.

“I’m really sorry, Ben”, you repeated, your voice a mere whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you”.

He shook his head slightly, reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You’re not hurting me”, he said, though you both knew it wasn’t entirely true.

You bit your lip and lay back beside him, but as he was about to pull you close, you turned your back towards him. The guilt and shame weighed heavily on you. You felt like a tease, making him suffer once more. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of the disappointment and frustration you might see in his eyes.

Ben’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before he let it fall back to his side. He sighed softly, the sound heavy with unspoken words and emotions. He wanted to comfort you, to tell you that it was okay, but he knew that words might not be enough right now.

You felt the bed shift as he moved closer, his warmth seeping into your back. He didn’t touch you, respecting your need for space, but his presence was a silent reassurance that he was there for you, no matter what.

“I’m not going anywhere”, he said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil you both felt. “We’ll get through this. Together”.

You closed your eyes, letting his words wash over you. The shame and guilt were still there, but his unwavering support made them a little easier to bear. You knew you needed to find a way to bridge the gap between your desires and your fears.

“I just need time”, you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“And you’ll have it”, Ben replied gently. “As much as you need”.

Silence settled over the room, filled only with the sound of your combined breathing. You focused on the rhythm of it, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

Ben kissed your bare shoulder softly, his lips brushing against your skin in a gesture of tenderness. He closed his eyes, his body still facing your back but refraining from touching you further.

Minutes passed in silence, each second heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires. You could sense Ben’s struggle to contain his own feelings, to respect your boundaries while yearning to bridge the gap between you.

“I love you”, he murmured softly, his voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and understanding. You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. His eyes held a mixture of sadness and unwavering devotion, a silent promise that he would wait for you, no matter how long it took.

“I love you too”, you whispered back, your voice thick with emotion.

Ben nodded slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. He leaned forward, pressing another gentle kiss to your shoulder before settling back against his pillow. His hand moved tentatively towards yours, hesitating for a moment before intertwining his fingers with yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 🥰

Part 6

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27 @baby19sthings @fitxgrld @winchesterwild78

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #the boys #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy x female reader #his second exception #soldier boy x you #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys soldier boy

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lanafofana · 6 months ago

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The Faithwarden & The Archdruid

Day THREEEEEE of HalsinTavWeek is upon us, fam! Pairing: Halsin/Tav(F) Summary: When she is away, Tav wonders if Halsin misses her as much as she misses him. Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI Warnings/Tag: Voyeurism, Mutual Masturbation, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Post Epilogue No Beta We Die Like Yonas (RIP Yonas) And an AO3 link! For all who celebrate.

If Tav had had any idea of the kind of commitment involved with holding the title of Faithwarden, she might have just killed Khaga in cold blood where she stood. The woman had certainly made it tempting enough without the added threat of being named the equivalent of a druidic mediator, judge, and oracle.

When she said as much to Halsin the former archdruid had only given her the proudest, softest expression and assured her that she was the only druid he had ever met who was well suited to the task. Which might have just been, possibly, the least helpful thing he could have said.

The summons came from all over Faerûn and took her away from home from anywhere between a tenday to months on end. Settling disputes between groves, ousting unworthy leadership, and using her ironclad grasp of Silvanus’ teachings to guide, illuminate, and teach his servants.

Highest honor this. Under the eye of Silvanus himself that. It was godsdamned exhausting, is what it was.

Every time her duties kept her away from home for longer than a few days her skin itched to return. To ensconce herself in their house amongst the trees, rousing from her meditation and rolling on top of her lover, listening to the chatter of nature while she walked barefoot through the forest born anew. These were the things that tugged at her mind most when found herself many miles from home.

Frustratingly, Halsin did not seem to miss her quite as much as she did him. When she returned he greeted her warmly enough, an enthusiastic participant in their lovemaking always, but a part of Tav wondered if she was the only one left pining during their separations.

If she was gone longer than a ten day they would exchange letters or messages through nature, sometimes managing to speak through their meditations though that was rarer. He shared news of the happenings from home, asked after her welfare, and sometimes included messages from the children under their care. All very sweet but the few times she tried to broach the subject in her letters, how she missed him and yearned for his touch, he either said something clinically empathetic about duty or, worse, didn’t address it at all.

The lack of reciprocation of her desires began to chip away at her confidence in their bond. She began to wonder if maybe she was being selfish trying to bring it up all the time. Perhaps he considered the lust she felt in his absence a youthful fault of her own and nothing to do with him at all.

When she takes her leave one day she mentions while he walks with her to the boundary of their home, that if it looks like she may need to stay longer she will send a letter before the tenday is out. He smiles and nods but tells her she need not trouble herself on his account and kisses her softly on the forehead.

Walking away from him, her steps feel heavy, and the words chase themselves in circles in her mind. Hurt blooms like a wicked vine, crawling through her mind with cruel barbs that whisper silky lies that taste like truths. Keeping in contact over long distances is not necessary. If someone should miss her, they surely know how to reach her. He may as well have told her not to come home at all.

It all boiled down to the same thing. My love does not equal your love. Once she had the thought she found it had taken root and would not be burned away. She heard it as she walked, as she lay staring at the stars, and in her troubled meditations that shattered under the weight of it. It took very little imagination to begin to hear them repeat in her mind with his voice. The journey is long and difficult but with dark thoughts dogging her heels she pushes herself as far and as fast as she is able. The grove is surprised to see her arrive so early but readily enfold her to the circle and the reasons they called for assistance.

Two days, one set of bruised knuckles, and a sternly worded letter to an archdruid in Amn later Tav leaves the grove in an even fouler mood than she went in.

“Please, Faithwarden, at least stay another day. Your journey here was most perilous and long, you should take a day and refresh yourself.”

Tav tries to put her best face forward, she really does, but it is extremely difficult after her altercation with the grove’s resident healer left her in such a seething rage the First Druid had been forced to physically hold her back from beating the woman to death. When she whirls on the young novice he flinches back and Tav feels the sharp words turn to ash on her tongue.

She can’t do anything to rid her face of the stern expression that has decided to live there but she does try to curb her tone at the very least. She assures the poor man she was well rested enough thank you very much but must be on her way to her next destination.

The problem was, Tav had no idea where that destination was. Should she go home? Or would it be so terrible to wander for a bit, away from where she was clearly not as wanted as she supposed. Almost as soon as the thought occurs to her she decides no. She has a stack of letters to work through, almost half of them undoubtedly more summons for her aid.

Standing in the middle of a dusty, overgrown road she sighs. The tangle of hurt and anger giving way to sudden weariness. Was this to be her doom? Always wandering, always aiding, and never finding a notch to catch her heel and making her stop and rest. To sooth her loneliness with the fleeting, loveless passion between strangers who desire her body or her position. It turns her stomach. Inside her chest her heart feels splintered with cracks. One more blow and she will crumble.

When she is close to Thaniel’s realm she hesitates crossing the border right away. She decides that the temporary succor of reuniting with her lover, for once, does not outweigh the turmoil inflicted by the detachment of his farewell. It hasn’t even been a full ten-day anyway, so no one will be looking for her return. She can steal in through the window in her raven form, collect her stack of correspondence, and be gone again without anyone the wiser.

The sky is dark and silent when she begins her mission. A new moon offers plenty of cover to flit through the dark shadows on her way to the house nestled deep in the center of Thaniel’s realm. Spying an open window she flits though and perches on a chair, cocking her head and getting a read on her surroundings. The house is quiet though; the children are all nestled tight in their beds and the druid is nowhere to be seen.

She wonders at that for a moment, it’s unlike him to leave the children unattended overnight. Though, she concedes, he does like to wander the border in wildshape when he feels like thinking in solitude. She brushes the thought away and sheds her birdform to creep on soundless steps through the dark home.

The letters are not in the study where she expected them to be. The desk is tidy, just how Halsin prefers, but the slot where she usually keeps her stack is empty. She rifles through the drawers but they’re simply not there at all. Huffing an irritated sigh she spends a few extra moments poking around the rest of the room but there’s nothing.

He’s already preparing for you to leave permanently, whispers the acrid voice from before. That makes Tav stop her tracks, her heart and stomach and throat twisting so much she has to put her fist against her chest to assure herself she hasn’t been impaled by an arrow. The cracks within, quiver in expectation but she’s here on a mission, not to feel sorry for herself. She ruthlessly shoves the thought and the accompanying lance of pain from her mind.

The kitchen is likewise tidy, and the living area where Tav is most guilty of leaving her things strewn around, “like a magpie’s nest,” Halsin had oft remarked. The words had seemed teasingly affectionate then but now, wandering the spotless house, Tav isn’t sure.

There’s only one place left to check but at this point Tav wonders if she mightn’t just leave after all. It seems unlikely the druid would move her things there, where they had no proper place like the desk. But there is a dreadful anticipation buzzing under her skin and she realizes she can’t not look, can’t leave without seeing for herself if she has been erased from even that space. If he has packed away the odds and ends, removed the evidence of her existence. If he had truly cut her out of his life so thoroughly.

Her hand on the doorknob, heart in her throat, Tav braces herself. When the door swings open on silent hinges, revealing their bedroom just as she remembered it before she left she lets out a sigh that feels less like relief than she thought it would. Stepping in and shutting the door behind her, her keen eyes can see little that has moved or changed in the few days she’s been gone.

Her robe is missing from the place it usually hangs but that’s not unusual. The children were very fond of donning it for their make believe games of wizards and sorcerers. The little vanity table the druid had carved for her is littered with her trinkets and keepsakes, untouched. She spins slowly, correspondence forgotten for the moment while she looks for something. Anything to either untether the ache in her chest or banish it for good. But there’s nothing. The room is unremarkable, ordinary in every way.

She pokes around a bit and finds her stack of letters in the drawer of her vanity. She gives the room another cursory glance but pauses when she hears a gasp. She freezes, wondering if one of the kids had a nightmare and has found her in their search for comfort but the door is shut. The room still.

Curious, she moves as silent as a shadow towards the alcove where the bed is tucked away from sight by a large screen she brought with her from one of her travels. A very dim light comes into view, a guttering candle more ember than wick left. The view that unfolds beyond the screen however, steals her breath away.

Halsin is naked on their bed, eyes shut tight, with one hand holding her robe to his face while the other works a fierce pace along his erection. His hand rolls over the leaking head, once, twice, smearing the leaking precum from the tip before returning to pumping his thick length. His head drops back on the pillow, his mouth dropping open as he pants, his face a rictus in concentration. He breathes in sharply, another gasp he can’t hold back while he pleasures himself, lost in his fantasy, with her robe acting as the anchor.

She feels…giddy. The sight before her would in any other circumstance be enough to have her naked within moments and joining him but the evidence of his clear desire for her, his desperate gasps and near silent wails are the result of his desperate want of her and she…she can’t look away. Her blood runs hot but she’s frozen.

On the bed Halsin whines, teeth clenching, hips flexing as he tries to fuck his own hand. His heavy breathing is broken by a soft murmur, a whispered litany of words she can barely make out except for one.

“Tav.”

The hand holding her robe clenches and he takes a deep breath through his nose, taking in her scent from the fabric and when his eyes slit open Tav feels her own breath shudder out of her. It’s hot, suddenly too hot. His expression betrays surprise, confusion but when his hand stops moving on his cock Tav’s mouth is moving before her brain can catch up.

“Don’t stop,” she commands with a voice that sounds stronger than she feels. Inside she feels brittle and if he pushes the issue she would crumple immediately but he doesn’t. He nods, chest heaving, and his hand resumes its ministrations, his nearly black eyes on hers further driving her wild with desire.

Not even sure what she’s doing anymore Tav sheds her clothes and positions herself at the foot of the bed. A possession has come upon her, moving her limbs for her while her brain is far away. Abandoning his grip on her robe he uses his other hand to squeeze his balls, his breath hitching and in response she feels herself suck in a breath sharply. When he growls, stare heavy on her, she licks her lips and drags the hot skin of her palm across her nipples, her stomach, before finally dipping between the lips of her sex, seeking the bundle of nerves that throbs for attention.

“Tav,” he utters, breathing thready and she sways.

She drinks up the sight of him; squirming, needy, and skin flushed with arousal. The precum welling up from his tip looks like beads of pearls before he swipes it away to join the wet slick slide of his grip pumping his sex. When his hips start to jut into his hand again her hips jerk to echo it, her fingers swirling around her clit increasing their pace to keep rhythm with his movements.

The silent room has become a chorus of their echoing gasps, groans, and stilted breathing. The lewd wet sound as they masturbate to each other’s pleasure is obscene and Tav nearly comes apart with the force of how much she likes it. She watches with intense hunger, the flex of each muscle as he unravels under her gaze.

“I’m–! “ He breaks off, throwing his head back, the corded muscles of his neck taunt, the column of his throat damp with sweat.

“Y-yes!” It’s all she can manage to choke out before she’s lost to the sensation of her toes curling, jaw clenching.

They orgasm together, the sight of his seed spurting across his hand, his stomach, his chest has her moaning and grinding her finger into her clint until she exhales an aching, guttural sob, vision exploding with stars.

She crashes to her knees on the mattress, throwing out a hand to catch herself from falling face first into the blanket while she blinks away the haze of her orgasm. There’s movement and before she’s fully inhabiting her body again his mouth is on hers, his hands pulling her into his embrace. They’re both sticky and sweaty, but it feels like coming home after being away for a decade and she throws her arms around his neck and plunges her tongue into his mouth.

Breaking apart, still catching their breath they sit entwined, foreheads together while they come back to their senses.

When she finally meets his gaze it’s to find it already on her, soft and warm. The ache in her chest cracks wide open and she bursts into tears.

“My love?” Halsin’s voice is the comforting rumble of a summer thunderstorm and it only makes the tears flow more insistently.

“I–I thought...” The words die in her throat. It’s stupid, it’s ludicrous. How could she ever have even dreamed this sweet man would do the things she had supposed. What foolishness had bewitched her? How did she let her mind come to those awful conclusions? She doesn’t have an answer and speaking the words out loud feels fraught with peril.

Halsin doesn’t press her but cradles her head against his chest, running a hand down her back in a soothing gesture that only makes the tangled mess of her emotions a stronger torrent of tears. He rocks her, humming something slow and soft. He kisses the fevered skin of her forehead, clutching her body to his tightly, securely, until at last she feels her last sob give way to hitching sighs.

“I think…I think I’ve been incredibly foolish,” she admits, pulling away to look at him with bloodshot eyes and a snotty nose.

Halsin takes that in but instead of interrogating her, he thumbs away her tears gently before pressing featherlight kisses against the damp skin of her face.

She breathes in, sucking what courage she can from the air between them and haltingly begins to explain. Halsin’s face goes through several complicated emotions as she speaks before settling on sadness.

When she is done relaying the whole of it. How she thought he did not miss her and how it snowballed so horribly from there, he takes her face in both his hands and kisses her softly.

“I miss you,” he begins firmly, holding her gaze. “I miss you when you are not near, whether that means you have gone to answer a summons to a far away grove, or down to the river to collect the children, or even when you are laying in this bed in a trance close enough to touch. I miss you like the land misses the rain in a drought,” he takes her hands in his and presses them to his chest. “I miss you like the winter misses the sun; the dragon misses his flight; the Tears of Selûne miss the moon when its light is extinguished and they are left to trail along until she returns. Without you by my side I feel my days grow dark and grey and spend too often looking over my shoulder for the moment you might appear and bring the light to shine on me again.”

“But–”

“I miss you,” interrupts Halsin urgently. “With everything that I am. Foolishly I held myself aloof in your absence because I did not wish to burden you with my own selfish suffering. You already found the duty bestowed on you an oppressive one and I did not wish to add myself to your troubles. I see now that was a mistake. One I will not commit again.”

“I’m sorry,” says Tav, looking away. “I should have tried harder to explain what I…what I wanted, I suppose. What I needed from you.”

Halsin smiles and nuzzles her cheek. “We each of us have learned something here today and I think we are the better for it, no?”

“You’re very wise, archdruid,” says Tav with a small smile, the spark coming back into her eyes. “You wouldn’t be interested in becoming Faithwarden, would you?”

Halsin laughs and tugs her into his arm again, burying his face in her neck, and stroking her hair and the bare skin of her back. “I’m afraid I’ve quite retired from druidic duties, my heart.”

“Yeah yeah, rub it in.” She pulls back from his embrace when a thought occurs to her and she scans his wide chest in puzzlement before she spies her rolled up robe cast aside on the floor. “Halsin Silverbough did you use my robe to clean up your– “

He leans in close and snatches a kiss to cut her off. “I will wash it myself.”

“Yes you will, that was a gift I got in Waterdeep! Silvanus protect you if I have to go back to that fetid kingdom of money plagued rats to get another one.”

He grins and snatches another kiss before rolling away and snatching the robe off the floor, backing away to the door. “I’m glad you’re home, my heart.”

“You’re not going to be very glad if you don’t go put that in some water right now!”

“Yes, dear,” he calls, sauntering away

“Cold water, Halsin, I’m serious!” He doesn’t respond and she trails after him in alarm. “Halsin? Are you listening?”

“Always, my heart.”

The End

#halsintavweek #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #halsin x tav #halsin silverbough #smut #bg3 tav

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haikyu-mp4 · 7 months ago

Text

Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #stepdad!osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x reader

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smilenewfifthyear · 1 month ago

Text

【𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣, 𝟙𝟠𝟡𝟚.】

𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙘𝙘𝙪𝙢𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙨.

Warnings: Suggestive NSFW. 18+ • Characters are aged up and in 7th year •

꧁༺.༻��

Smile and Ominis bore the burden of not being able to be a couple in public, trapped between the love they felt and the shadow of the Gaunt family. The violent aversion of the Gaunts towards muggleborns made their relationship impossible to be acknowledged, especially in the midst of Hogwarts, where rumors spread like wildfire. Taking that risk was nearly unthinkable. Yet, there was something thrilling about living in secret. The secrecy brought an intensity to what they had, an almost forbidden energy that made every moment together even more irresistible.

At the start of their relationship, emotions were running high. They would sneak into the Undercroft whenever they could… and sometimes when they shouldn’t… just to see each other, because the desire to be together, away from curious eyes, was simply uncontrollable.

The feeling of longing from having to avoid each other in the corridors during the day, not touching, or exchanging only brief words, was compensated by their often heated reunions in the hideaway.

In the Undercroft, everything was different. The pent-up tension melted away as soon as they were alone. Ominis’ touch on Smile’s skin was always eager, urgent, as if he feared there wouldn’t be enough time to ease the accumulated longing. Every kiss was heavy with yearning, and every simple gesture, like holding hands or resting their foreheads together, became a vital need.

Another afternoon after classes arrived, following yet another day of fleeting glances and disguised conversations. Smile went to the Undercroft earlier than agreed. She waited for Ominis patiently, but her heart beat faster than usual. There was something in the air she couldn’t explain, a mix of desire and fear, as if their future was growing increasingly uncertain.

…

Ominis’ lips were slightly swollen from the insatiable kisses they had shared, and his cheeks, like Smile’s, were flushed. She raised her hand, gently touching his face, as if she wanted to memorize every detail. He returned the gesture, softly brushing her face, before finally whispering, “I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up, Smiley… living like this, in hiding, is becoming unsustainable.”

A chill ran down Smile’s spine. She knew he was right, but the reality of it terrified her. “D-Do you want to give up on us?” she asked, her voice trembling, unable to hide her fear.

Ominis took a deep breath, the weight of his words hanging in the air between them. “I will never give up on this,” he declared, his voice low but filled with determination. “I’ve never felt this in my entire life.”

Smile looked into his eyes, even knowing he couldn’t see her expression. “This?” she asked, almost whispering, feeling her heart race.

Ominis hesitated for a moment, his hand slightly trembling as he held hers. “Feeling… loved,” he admitted, his voice carrying a vulnerability she rarely saw in him. He paused, as if the words were difficult to say, but necessary. She watched him, the silence stretching between them, until he added, almost in a whisper, “And to love… to feel something pure… something real.”

Smile’s gaze softened, and she squeezed his shoulder with more strength. The depth of what he was sharing wasn’t lost on her. Ominis, always so composed and reserved, was revealing his heart in a way few ever saw. “Ominis…” she murmured, emotion overtaking her.

He gave a small smile, shy but genuine. “You brought this into my life, Smiley,” he confessed, his voice full of gratitude. “Before you, I only knew duty, the weight of my family, of expectations… but with you, I discovered what it truly means to feel. And that… that means everything to me.”

꧁༺.༻꧂

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another-lost-mc · 2 years ago

Note

Diavolo with a yan!MC that ends up getting caught by him?

DIAVOLO x Yandere!Reader 1.1k words | NSFW | gn!Reader | Yandere Elements | Suggestive Content warnings: Yandere behaviour including obsessive thoughts, manipulation, stalking, suggestive content. ➤➤ Obey Me! Masterlist

Lucifer doesn’t suspect a thing when you eagerly volunteer to help with RAD student council tasks. He thinks you’re trying to make a good impression on him and the other demons monitoring the success of the student exchange program.

He’s not going to refuse your help, especially when his brothers are less than reliable at the best of times. You’re enthusiastic and oh so curious about the history of the school, and the Devildom, and of course, Diavolo. Lucifer could talk for hours about Diavolo’s hard work and his dreams for the future - to your delight, sometimes he does.

Lucifer also isn’t the type to turn down the offer of pleasant company when he has to run errands at the Demon Lord’s castle. Sometimes you bring gifts for Diavolo, human world desserts you’ve made from scratch. You must’ve gotten access to Leviathan’s Akuzon account because those ingredients are difficult to come by.

Lucifer thinks it’s almost refreshing to see the look of shy excitement on your face when you hand Diavolo a homemade treat. Something about the Devildom seems to be bringing out the best in you because he finds you charming - and he's not the only demon to think so.

(Neither of you realize that Diavolo notices a change in you, too. He enjoys your small gifts, your tokens of appreciation. He eats your food selfishly and thinks about you while he licks his lips clean.)

No, Lucifer doesn’t mind at all that you’ve taken such a keen interest in learning more about the Devildom or its prince. It’s the reason why Lucifer agreed to bring you as his guest to a party at Diavolo’s castle.

Lucifer mentioned the party to you in passing, and he felt a little guilty when the excitement in your eyes faded to disappointment when he said your presence wasn't necessary. He surprised you the next day with confirmation you could accompany him. He asked Barbatos for permission to bring you, even though you weren't formally invited.

"They may consider it my lord's gift to them, in recognition of their effort and hard work lately," Barbatos told him with a mysterious smile.

The next evening, the party is in full swing and you're wearing something extravagant and expensive that Asmodeus picked for you and that Lucifer paid for. You linger by Lucifer’s side - he’s not usually far from Diavolo, which means you’re not far from Diavolo.

The demon prince is exceedingly handsome in his RAD uniform, but nothing compares to the majesty of Diavolo's demonic horns and wings on proud display. Arousal hums beneath your skin and you have to remind yourself not to stare.

Most of the demons are getting drunk off Demonus, and even Lucifer seems a bit loose-lipped this evening. Some of the guests have brought Diavolo gifts; you’re pretending to listen to Lucifer when you overhear Diavolo ask Barbatos to take the gifts to his room.

It’s easy to slip away from Lucifer who’s distracted by booze and conversation. Your gaze narrows on Barbatos who moves quietly through the crowd. He exits through a doorway on the far side of the room, and when you're certain no one notices your absence, you follow him.

You’ve visited the castle before, but you haven't figured out where Diavolo’s personal chambers are located. You’re as quiet as possible when you follow Barbatos down unfamiliar hallways and up new flights of stairs you haven’t explored yet. His shoes click loudly when he walks across the stone floor. You linger behind and let the echoes of his footsteps guide you towards your destination.

You reach an elaborately decorated hallway that's dimly lit except for a few fiery torch sconces mounted on the walls. You can't see Barbatos, but you hear a door creak open then slam shut. His footsteps echo louder when he starts walking back towards your location. You slip into a random doorway - some sort of small library - and wait for him to pass.

Once you can no longer hear him, you venture back into the hallway until you find what must be the entrance to Diavolo’s room. You look around before you pull the heavy door open and walk inside.

Light from the hallway spills across the floor and casts most of the room in heavy shadow. You leave the door open so you can claim you got lost if one of the servants happens to find you.

You take a few steps forward and breathe the scent of him into your lungs. Diavolo smells spicy and slightly sweet, like the boozy, smoky scent of drinking in front of a crackling fire. You’ve caught whiffs of him when you leaned in close to hand him something, or when you accidentally brushed by him in the RAD hallways. His scent is much richer here, much more potent, and you can almost taste him on your tongue.

You don’t realize how distracted you are until you hear a quiet chuckle behind you. When you gasp and turn around, all you can see is him. Diavolo is leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He's just inside the open doorway while flickering light from the hallway dances across his skin. He tilts his head and considers you, the brave little human who thought their lingering glances and erratic heartbeat in his presence went unnoticed.

You stare at each other. You're so nervous and overwhelmed that you can barely breathe. His eyes are dark and his gaze scorches your skin when he gives you a very thorough once-over while he decides what to do with you. His lips curl into a smile that looks hungry.

“You’re braver than I thought,” he admits when he finally speaks to you. His voice is low and gravelly - you’ve never heard him sound like this before.

But then he does something you don’t expect: he reaches for the door and pushes it closed. The room is eerily dark now, but you can just barely see him in front of you. He pushes away from the wall and takes agonizingly slow, deliberate steps towards you.

You're frozen in place while your body trembles with fear and desire. The urge to fall to your knees before him in reverence is overwhelming.

“Humans are so intriguing," he murmurs to himself. His voice is deafening in the black silence that surrounds you. He reaches forward to caress your face, and you lean into the touch with a sigh. Before he pulls you to him, you see a glimpse of his fangs when he grins at you.

"You’ve earned the prince’s attention, my dear - there’s no turning back now.”

When he tilts your chin up, your lips and tongue meet him in a hungry, all-consuming kiss. You're lightheaded when the kiss ends. His hands wander across your body. and his chest is rumbling against yours.

Diavolo inhales sharply when you slip from his arms and fall to your knees. When you reach for his waist, you're desperate to show him how intriguing this human can really be.

#someone dropped this 🚩#obey me diavolo #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #diavolo smut #obey me diavolo x mc #diavolo x mc #obey me diavolo x you #diavolo x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #obey me yandere #gn!reader

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regnumaves · 2 years ago

Note

[ caeda 5/5HP ] most of the herd has been thinned out by now, and it takes caeda some searching upon her pegasus to find her next opponent.

the appearance of a giant bird doesn't quite phase her now that she's met leanne, her assumption that she was simply meeting another laguz— this time on the battlefield. she'd seen them fighting someone else earlier as well. it'll be difficult to approach such a large fearsome opponent with her lance, so caeda opts to open the tome that she'd picked up earlier.

her gaze darts over the fine lines of the spell, before she makes an attempt at casting. "bolganone!" she calls out, holding her hand in the air like she'd seen many mages do before her.

[ caeda rolls to attack tibarn with bolganone from range, 9, 2 damage, tibarn 4/6HP ] [ darting blow activates! again :3, 19, 2 damage, tibarn 2/6HP ]

he's fast but she's faster.

well, that and also the explosion of bolganone is large. so much so that even she wouldn't have been able to avoid her own spell.

"uhm." caeda blinks with wide eyes, perhaps momentarily forgetting that she's on a battlefield. she was never a magic user, but apparently the spell bolganone didn't care about such a thing. she would have to think azelle for dropping the tome earlier— it could be her key to victory.

What in hell—

By the great Soan's long, fluffy tail, does Tibarn hate magic. Arcane arts of the beorc have always been the greatest bane of all laguz - beyond understanding for most of them and intimidating just from that alone, on top of the various types being particularly threatening to some of them: the winds that snap his brothers' wings, the flames that burn the beasts' hides, the thunders that pierce even dragon scales.

The one saving grace was that the users of magic would usually be vulnerable - soft, frail, lacking the protection of armor. Usually, they don't fly.

So when Tibarn's next opponent attempts to fry him, one can imagine he finds himself rather displeased.

Tibarn HP: 2/6

With a hawk's shriek piercing through the air as he wrestles himself free of the explosion, he draws a circle in the sky to gain some distance first, before charging at Caeda, talons outstretched - one leg aimed at her side, one at her mount's shoulder.

Prayer Ring heals Tibarn. Tibarn HP: 2.5/6

Tibarn attacks with Killer Knuckles: 2d20(-4)= 10, 2. Crit, Hit! (-2.5HP) Caeda HP: 2.5/5

The former lands better than the latter before Tibarn retreats. His shoulder burns; if he lets her land too many more solid hits, he may end up forced to withdraw to avoid becoming immobilized mid-air.

"Alllllright. Come on, let's see it," he grumbles, his voice unchanged in comparison to his unshifted form. He ain't fond of magic, sure, but it's not like he blames the girlie for using it. She's here to win, after all - he expects his weaknesses to be exploited.

#❁ all skies shall belong to me ; ic. ❁#❁ sometimes it is necessary to exchange a few words ; ask. ❁#toaboel2023 #❁ support ; caeda. ❁

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blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months ago

Text

Aemond in a relationship - SFW/NSFW

Aemond x younger!reader and Aemond x older!reader

warning : +18, smut, hurt/comfort, obsession, dysfunctional family, mother issues, body worship, breast play/nipple play, attempted (forced) abortion, fluff

info : So Aemond I wanted to have done this earlier but just had a motivation and inspiration but now the more scenes we get lets go. Have fun reading :)

masterlist

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Aemond x younger!reader

SFW °If his wife was younger than him and he was only a few years older, what he feels would be love, but it would be different. He would be someone else not a broken boy, he was the prince of the realm, a Targaryen with the greatest dragon that lived he was someone of strength and power who trusted in his abilities and protected his wife. Because that was something a husband did, a prince did. Taking care of his beloved, fulfilling his duties and raising his own family to join the royal family.

°Duties that quickly turned out to be something else. Since the betrothal a few days after his father's death, he knew it was necessary. Knew that it would serve the kingdom if he himself entered into a political marriage, since his siblings had already done their duty. ,,I know you will do better Aemond" he had his mother's words always in his mind as she looked at him had the ceremonial clothes on him and put the finishing touches before he would take his betrothed as his wife. A marriage that was sealed with a kiss and an exchange of cloaks, hopeful eyes looking at him, a hand on his back and a prince playing his part. A role he took on from his uncle. Someone who was someone in this family who was the image of the dragon of a full-blooded Targaryen.

°The wedding night after the feast he had clearly insisted on not putting on a public show, had gotten support from his own brother even if it bothered him he knew he owed him a thank you for not making a public spectacle of it, ,,Have thanks my lord husband" he had heard her uncertain voice as her hand closed firmly around his she had expected the worst but he would not let that happen. His wife was his, her body was for his sight and no one else's. One thing he made her feel was that his politeness and formality only dropped when they were alone and he allowed himself to show her his other side. She realized that he was a prince with desires and other sides but never quite let her get close to him, didn't he because of her looks? Because of her reputation? Or because of something else in him?

°He never let her know, never let her know what it was in him that sometimes led him away from her like a stranger only to place himself with her like someone dutiful. The kisses in public were almost shy and brief, their hands only touched through gloves and they spent time together in the library. He enjoyed reading the things of the story with her and she confessed to him with warm cheeks, ,,You are a man of honor and duty even on the training ground…it makes me happy to see you win" and he couldn't hide the smirk on his lips. She never asked him for anything but this knowledge that she admired him, appreciated his skills, his strength on the arena and seemed to ignore his brother completely delighted him. ,,If it excites my lady such a thing shall happen often," he murmured, placing a kiss on the back of her hand before rising from the library and making his way to his brother.

°Tournaments, fights, training exercises, victories and nothing but victories brought the prince of the realm a new armor was forged for him and he always received the blessing from his wife who cheered him on and felt nothing but joy that she could finally give her husband something, something that filled him with something that she could not, it replaced the one inside him. The satisfaction of victory outweighed his painful past, but he never took off even his eye patch, he had never been afraid of his mother whom he had protected for years, so he would not do the same with his wife, a woman who in some lights reminded him of his own mother…someone he could and would save now, someone who belonged to him and not to his brother, someone for whom he was good enough and who was his. It was during this time that something between them grew like dragon fire and he found himself more and more often in her rooms late at night to talk, to read, to eat together or to take flights on Vhagar where he could show her again what he would do, what he was capable of…until the prince too had to give in to his lust at some point in an approaching war that kept his nerves short….

NSFW

°The lust one day overcame him it was not the other he was looking for on the contrary with every time he left the council, with every time his grandfather or his mother forbade him to fly with Vhagar his dissatisfaction grew. With every victory, the adrenaline rushed through his body, but he couldn't go into the silken path with it, it would destroy the image, unsettle his inner self. It was on these days that he finally turned physically to his wife at night when the moon was high in the sky and he came into her room. ,,Aemond? Is everything all right?" her question fell from her lips as she saw her husband standing in her room, his dark leather clothes smelling of fire and smoke, her swords and blood around him like a fight. But his body was shaking it was the adrenaline running through his body after what he had done, what Vhagar had done, what the prince could not prevent…he just had to calm down. He had to turn to his wife and not let her finish talking, ignoring her worries and barely taking off his clothes, he joined her on the bed. Skilled fingers rough and cool through the night that pushed up her nightgown and pulled her closer and a kiss that set the night in motion.

°The kiss that set everything in motion, a kiss from his desperation to feel something warm and soft. Not the hold of a center, no, he brought his wife to his body, a cunt in which he could give his pleasure in a time that could be the last of his family. ,,You need me," he murmured words he wanted to pass around, but it was true that every dragon felt comfortable in fire. Her clothes slid to the ground, his would never follow the warm leather, the cool metal of the buckles on her body an alternation of ice and fire as he pressed her body against his.

°Her hands trembled unsteadily from the furs and blankets to his body, her voice asking questions and words devoured by his lips as he kissed her, squeezing her breasts with his hands, savoring the pleasure of her body for what she gave him. ,,All because of me," he murmured, letting his lips trail down hers, feeling her quiver of pleasure her first few nights, not unlike this one. His own arousal for her was consuming his wife, his beloved object. He heard her nod at his words she was his and would be his alone and no one else's not his brother's, not his father's, not his uncle's…she was his alone.

°She would serve him as an object of love and affection as he consciously turned her around, her body, her mind leaning into the pillows, understanding her lustful gaze, sire knew how he wanted it. One last look, a kiss followed by a bite on her shoulder before he thrust into her, her moans drowning in the pillows, the sounds muffled through the room as he fucked her into the mattress, his hands tangled in her hair, her back already covered in his kisses and rubs. Did you fuck her like a hound? he couldn't help but think of his brother's humiliating question, but it was true, he took her like a dog in the heat, he needed and wanted her in a completely different way than in his visit to the silk.

°Once again he did something like his brother gave in to physical love, but what would follow moments later when his thrusts became firmer and uncontrolled and he came inside her with a grunting shudder, he had the tea brought to her a few hours later, as he did every time. He wouldn't give the curse of the second born to his offspring and as long as she lived with the old dream of not being able to give him children it was a good thing…because his power was perhaps what kept him with her in the end, she was his and she would never change that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aemond x older!reader

SFW

°If his wife was older and he was a few years younger, it would be completely different. It was his duty to marry, of course, a politically strategic marriage, but what else could it be in times of freedom he might at least have been allowed to choose his wife, but now to take directly a lady of her own house. The only successor to her late lord father, who had died a few weeks earlier before all of Westeros would be plunged into war, there was no better option and with his younger brother in Oldtwon there was only him to make a decision that could not be changed. But the meeting was something else, her followers and a small army of a few thousand men were formidable but also an amalgamation of Houses beneath her. A lady of power in her own domain facing the prince of the kingdom with the greatest dragon, a marriage that Aemond felt was something else.

°His mother was glad that she could not even use her children, but rather could now slowly watch the game for herself. While it was Aemond who knew he was the dragon's true blood, his brother should be whining and neglecting their shared sister, but Aemond had found his own wife, his own lady…his own special piece in this world. ,,I will not disappoint you" was the only thing he would say to his mother before the marriage and the ceremony, he knew he could never disappoint his mother like Aegon but he wouldn't when he faced her. A pair of eyes fixed on him not hating him or looking down on him she seemed to like him at least he hoped so as he felt her soft hands in his ,,How nice to see my prince husband smile…I feared not to please you" her words reaching him as she was transported in the carriage from the sept back to the castle her gaze was crossed by a brief streak of sadness. He had smiled a soft smile on his lips as he had looked at her for reasons he knew exactly why. ,,You please me my lady wife don't worry my being is yours" he assured her and gave her another uplifting look before turning his battered face away from her.

°It was a wedding, a feast, even if it was celebrated beautifully and lavishly, not least because of his brother's befegl he could feel the eyes of the others on him. A young prince of the realm at the beginning of the prime of his life barely more than half his twenty name days and his wife a rose already blossoming in the mid-thirties of her name day. He was almost pitied from outside, it seemed to him, but when he looked at his brother he saw no amusement, no wit, Aegon too drunk to care about his sister-in-law's age. He did not see what was really going on in his brother's mind as the ceremony of the first night approached, a night that would be carried out discreetly in his chamber, together and alone, through Aemond's sharp words and threats. A night that was full of physical lust but they both seemed to recognize that it was not the real thing, at least for now.

°But days and weeks after their marriage this hardly mattered, he avoided and clung to her as his comfort required. He had new clothes made for her, jewelry gifts, all his favorite colors and metals but all relatively the same as his mother's not that anyone particularly noticed the second prince of the realm had no interest in the gossip of the people but also the gossip about him remained absent but his brother the king was always the better. When he didn't retire to his room during the day to work out plans with Criston that his brother wouldn't be able to do, he trained and above all sought her "closeness". A closeness in which he could observe her like a beautiful creature in a cage, even if he was the dragon trapped in a pit of his own emotions. He caught himself smiling when he saw her again in simple activities, whether it was reading books or embroidering with his sister, it made him happy to see her so honest.

°But the more often he saw her, talked to her and looked at her in her green and gold clothes, the more often he realized at night when his thoughts strayed from the battle strategies and the memories of the past came flooding in that she was someone he needed. An realization that would soon lead to results not only when he was sent to Storms End and met his bastard nephew Lucery, but also when Vhagar pounced on him without his prompting. It was on this rainy night that the good prince's façade cracked, his duties were laid aside and the prince, still completely wet and with trembling hands that he had clenched into fists in small council, now trembled as he closed the door behind him. His wife sitting in bed with candles lit on the bedside table discovered him, ,,Aemond? What happened?" her question reached him but it was not a prince who answered as his shoulders closed in on her…it was a broken man seeking comfort in the arms of his false mother.

NSFW

°Without a word he went to her bedside and she sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at him, her eyes wandering over his body. The wet clothes, the hair sticking to his skin, his trembling hands and the look in one eye...a look of desire and fear, a look of shame and devotion. But it was her, she was the right one for him when his wife, his beloved lady, his false mother, took care of him in a situation that was presented to her almost as a gift. Her fingers went to his clothes and the pieces slid close and close with a cold shiver as he was gradually undressed and he ended up standing naked in front of her, a sight not unfamiliar to her, but the shivering she mistook for freezing was something else for him as her attempt to warm him with a fur was different than she thought.

°Instead, he interrupted her movement and came closer to her, causing her to pull herself back onto the bed, slowly understanding what he wanted. She positioned herself at the head of the bed, placing a pillow in her back to make it more comfortable as her husband positioned himself in her lap, placing his head on her chest and listening to her heartbeat, which gradually calmed down as her observation and premonition turned out to be true. When the prince closed his eyes, let out an almost heavy sigh and just lay there for a moment, ,,Please I-my Lady....Mother please just hold me," she heard his voice as she was about to put the blanket over them both when she paused in her movement and put her hand on his head. His wet hair wet her fingers and she continued while the images of a mother and her son could not have been more symbolic with the exception of his arousal, the arousal of a man and not that of a broken boy as he saw himself in her arms.

°She felt his lust in him corrupted by fear and pain and she could help him...she was the one who could do something now, who finally had power after everything and not just because of him. He had helped her to power, but at the end of the night, as she saw it, she was the one who restrained and controlled the dragon. ,,It's okay...my prince-my boy...mom couldn't be prouder of you...get some rest you've earned it you've been so good" she mumbled to him words that were said to boys, to children who still needed encouragement, who should feel proud when they did little things but a man shouldn't hear such things...but then did she even have a man lying in her womb? °She wasn't sure, but her heartbeat responding to his arousal, his body in her womb, was something she wouldn't believe and certainly not when Ameond started to move and she saw what he was doing. With warm pink cheeks in contrast to his sapphire in one eye, he looked up at her and she stroked his cheek, ,,Thank you," was the last thing he mumbled before his fingers seemed to struggle awkwardly with the lacing and full of insecurity until she helped him and opened her own front lacing, sliding her nightgown slightly open and showing him her chest. Aemond slowly repositioned himself, his head, which had been resting on her chest before, placed itself in front of her breast, the coldness of the night he brought with him sending a shiver down her spine as she felt his tongue on her sensitive nipple, ,,Ae-Aemond gently," she ordered softly, stroking his head as his other hand placed itself on her other breast. Now he didn't seem to mind that after the nights they had spent together, her body had changed, in contrast to what had been a day of disinterest and brief questions about her well-being, now that her body was changing with a child, it was just about the most divine thing he could have. °She felt him greedily lapping at her nipples before she heard his satisfied sigh as he seemingly tasted her milk, his teeth pulling at it before he apologetically lapped and sucked again. All the while she held him and told him how good and good he was stroking his head and pulling on the light strands every now and then when he was too sleepy and she saw his apologetic look but his arousal didn't diminish and she knew this was more than just an interaction. She knew that he needed her, knew that she had her dragon now as her hand went to his lap, her fingers moving rhythmically, pressing him even closer, the scent warm and soft of a woman, a mother, enveloping him more and more as he massaged her breasts and sucked on her nipples.

°His hips moved slowly with her movements and soon found a rhythm that suited the prince but she pretended to punish him by biting him too hard, ,,Ah Aemond...remember it will be enough" she murmured and stroked his lips with her thumbs as he let go of her for a moment his sapphire eye also slightly pained to close as she brushed his slightly moist milk-slicked lips over. He laid his head in the palm of her hand and cuddled up to her before she allowed him to return and they stayed like that for a few moments before she felt him slowly come closer to his climax, he squeezed her breasts tightly with his fingernails and the whimper came over her lips as she allowed him to come. ,,That's it," she said to him last as his slightly quivering body relaxed in her lap and he closed his eyes as he left the last kisses on her breasts before he allowed her to cover him with the blanket and furs and let him slip away limply but his wife stayed behind holding her husband in her arms and wiping his cum on the pillow, ,,Sleep well I know you'll need me again soon...my dear husband" she said to him as she watched over him, her sleep a small price for what she got in return besides love and lust, a dragon and a prospect of a whole new side to the game of throne and the victory of war.

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@dixie-elocin , @hufflepuffkittysworld , @girlypieee

#hotd #house of the dragon #hotd season 2 #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond the kinslayer #ewan mitchell #in a relationship

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regnumaves · 2 years ago

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A light smile sneaks its way onto his lips as Edelgard speaks, decisiveness and confidence radiating from her voice to the point where, even though he does not affiliate with the Eagles - or any House for that matter - on the daily basis, he feels his motivation rising, his anticipation for what’s to come increasing. Which is good. After all, that’s how it should be.

That’s what Ike and Elincia have also done for the armies they led to victory; that’s what he aims to do for his own men as they swoop into battle.

“Of course. Morale and mind games are very important parts of this. In a real battle situation, those alone may push someone to surrender. Granted, this of course isn’t going to happen here.” He stretches his arms and wings, releasing some stiffness from them. “But it’s good to get that practice in early. Some say that war is a simple thing. Kill more people than your enemies do.” He huffs. “Would be nice if it were that easy, but it’s not. And it’s those who realize it first and make better use of it that prevail in the end.”

He crosses his arms as the smile he gives Edelgard widens. “You’re pretty good at this, girl. Alright, you’ve got me excited. For as long as I’m here, you can count on me.” With a single beat of his wings, his feet separate from the ground. “I will be seeing you soon.”

Having dealt with both his match up and the injury he had sustained, Tibarn once again takes to the sky, the Hawk's sky piercing through the fog and wind gathered at Gronder today The first round is slowly coming to a close, from the looks of it, and he finds himself interested in a little chat with the leader of the House he aligned himself with for the event.

He's heard that Edelgard is next in line to become the emperor of Adrestia, and it does pique his curiosity as a ruler himself. From what little he's seen of her so far, he has a feeling that she for one will be taking the mock battle quite seriously. Which, hey, why not. For one such as her, this is important exercise.

"So. How's it feeling so far for you and your forces, do you think?" He asks, shifting back to humanoid form as he lands beside her, though keeping a bit of a respectful distance. "You've suffered some losses, but so have the other sides. Any strategies and plans on how to proceed?"

She is appreciative of the faces aligning themselves with the Black Eagles who otherwise lack any affiliation. It would be nice to see them joining the reds and blacks of their house more often. The sheer fact he approached her and shows intrigue is enough to capture Edelgard's interest in the moment. The emblem of the twin-headed eagle holds great weight for her and the Adrestian Empire. Flight and freedom are what she seeks. As moons pass and the numbers of her classmates and professors shuffle, one thing remains stagnant: Her.

This brief moment of respite presents Edelgard a moment to assess— To reflect. Her parry with Marth had been fairly brief but it had not been any less memorable. He spoke with words just as powerful as any grand speech she may give herself. And now, Tibarn provides her with statements of his own. The axe weighs tightly in her hands, even as it does nothing but sit at her side while lilacs move from the bustling grounds to her now ally. In a field like this, where Tibarn speaks out and reminds of comradery and numbers, does her stance become ever so prevelant. The question posed is an important one on any battlefield, mock or otherwise.

"It's too early to discern. A battle cannot be won until its completion is seen through," she says with a contemplative expression resting atop her face. "There is no time to reconvene with anyone else. Whether or not the numbers are in our favor, the other houses must believe it to be so. If they witness the power— the tenacity— we provide, the rest will speak for itself."

#❁ all skies shall belong to me ; ic. ❁#❁ sometimes it is necessary to exchange a few words ; ask. ❁#❁ support ; edelgard. ❁#((RIP to whatever fuckery happened in that one sentence in my OG ask))#((but I wanted to reply because They))

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lottiembae · 11 months ago

Text

FIGHT CLUB; lottie matthews x fem!reader

Summary: y/n get convinced by pj that you need to enter the fight club. lottie didn't like the idea but didn't tell her anything, so she entered too.

Warnings: au bottoms, fluff, blood, two idiots pinning about each other. jackie x shauna in the background.

Note: English is not my first language.

not my gif.

"Have you heard about the new fight club? It is amazing." You said to your friends when you sat down in your usual seat at the cafeteria.

Different reactions from the new information were exchanged. Jackie copied your enthusiasm and clapped, saying that if you are going she is going too, for Shauna's dismay. Van has a similar reaction to Jackie, but in Van's way. Natalie and Laura Lee, indifferent about it but cool with the new club. And then, there are the most skeptical people, Lottie and Shauna. Both brunette girls didn't say anything, just kept eating their food. Shauna has problems sharing her emotions publicly, Jackie is the only one who could cherish it. And Lottie usually gave her opinion in almost everything, and if you are involved it will always be good.

Your focus is entirely on Van and Jackie, a big grin plastered on your face while you talk about it.

"I can't wait to tell Tai. I'm sure she is going too!" Van exclaims excited.

When you were to reply, Lottie wanted to know how you found it so inevitably she interrupted you. "How have you found it?" She asks you softly in comparison to rudely cut you.

All eyes were on her, but she didn't care. The only eyes that care right now would give her the answer. You frown momentarily. "It was PJ. She told me that she, Hazel and Josie created it and she offered that if wanted to join them." You innocently answer.

Lottie bit her tongue, but didn't say anything. She gives you a nod and lets you resume the previous conversation. Her gaze meets Shauna's, who give her a raised eyebrow. Lottie sighs, rolling her eyes. You'll see, it's been a while that a few of them (Shauna, Natalie and Van) started to tease her saying she likes you, every time you two are in the same room her eyes transform in heart eyes, something that is true but never say it to them. It didn't help that they were in the football team playing together. Sometimes she is relieved that she picks to go to the photography club or debate team.

The brown eyed girl doesn't personally meet Josie and PJ. She knew Hazel from the photography club, they didn't exchange many words but the girl seems nice at her every time they are in the same room. About the other two, she doesn't have a based opinion on them because didn't meet them, but Lottie didn't like PJ's vibes.

"Who else could join?" Jackie asks, looking at them. Lottie missed the last part of their conversation, but knowing that the most enthusiastic about it are going to join the club. The football captain looks at Shauna expectant, who was scribbling something in a book. The rest of the girls looked at each other, knowing smiles about the constant situation between the best friends.

Shauna looks up when Natalie lets out a snort, receiving a nudge from Laura Lee. The brunette looks at the rest of the table, confused why all of them are looking at her but understood when her eyes meet Jackie, who already is looking at her with a clearly fake innocent smile.

"What did I lose?" Shauna questioned softly, looking at Jackie.

"You getting into the fight club." Van says out loud, making the rest of the table laugh while Laura Lee disapproves of all their behaviour.

Shauna rolls her eyes, a blush creeping on her cheeks. She knew the moment Y/N commented about it she will go there for Jackie's reaction. So ignoring their friends, her eyes met her favourite hazel eyes.

"Is it necessary that I need to go?" Of course Shauna could put some objections before she says yes.

Jackie rolls her eyes with a smile. "Are you kidding me? I need you there." The captain blinked repeatedly, making Shauna click her tongue sighing.

"Fine." The brown eyed girl gives in, crossing her arms. The whole table cheered for the knowing answer. Shauna curses them, it only makes them tease her more. But it is worth it when Jackie wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her cheek in an charming manner for her affirmative answer.

•••

Y/N is in her last period of class that day, sharing it with Van, Lottie and PJ. The redhead and Y/N went to talk with the curly hair girl, who was surprised that two of the most popular girls are talking with her right now. Meanwhile Lottie rolls her eyes when saw her friends go towards her, going to sit on her seat.

It's the first time Y/N wouldn't share the desk with her in the same period. A pang of jealousy ran inside her, watching with her jaw clenched how you opted to sit down with their friend in common, behind PJ seat. She moves her gaze away when the professor enters, muttering a quick apology to come late and proceed to teach the new lesson.

Lottie tried hard to focus on the lesson, but it was difficult when the table from the other side kept whispering through it. She clicked her tongue, frustrated and decided to make a plan for Y/N to forget this stupid fight club thing.

"Lottie! I'm sorry I ditched you, I thought you were behind us." Y/N's voice followed Lottie when the tall girl ran away from the classroom the moment the final whistle sounded.

The brown eyed girl stopped and turned to look at her, not malice in her voice. Even she was giving her a sincere apology. Lottie sighed, she so screwed up. "It's okay, Y/N/N. You can go on your new adventure." The last part was said with a hint of sarcasm, turning on heels and walking to her locker.

Y/N watches confused how her friend walked fast. A whistle on her right side makes her turn to look at Van. "You are in problems..." The redhead sang, patting her shoulder and pushing her softly.

"What do I do?" Y/N asks, a little sad knowing her friend is pissed at her for some reason.

Van hummed. "I have a few ideas." They muttered.

Y/N frown, but Tai and Jackie with a Shauna flying behind her interrupted their conversation. "Alright! It's time to go to our first meeting, let's go!" Jackie grabs Y/N's wrist and brings her with her. The girl noticed she did the same thing with Shauna, who has a brief pout painted on her face.

"Where is it?" Taissa asked, following close behind Y/N and Shauna.

"At the gym!" Van and Y/N said at the same time, remembering the previous exchange of dates with PJ.

Jackie made an abrupt turn and changed the direction, the girls she has a hold on the wrist protest for her lack of delicacy. When they arrived, they were met with two backs standing there inside the gym. The noise the little group did, made the two girls and rest inside look at them. Shauna and Y/N wanted to hide, blushing considerably.

"Sorry, girls! I don't think we would appear like that..." Jackie apologised, without letting her friend's wrists she entered in, greeting Isabel and Brittany.

"Damn, I already love this club..." Y/N could hear Van murmur, letting out a hiss later. She assumed Taissa was responsible.

"You came!" PJ said a little surprised, even if she had the confirmation from earlier, she didn't think Y/N was approaching there, alongside her popular friends too. "Hi! Take a seat please. I was saying that we are punctual and if someone wanted to come and it started, they could be out." The curly hair tried to say it firm, but her nervousness betrayed her.

They sat down, some whispers were heard but they didn't pay attention until someone let out a squeal.

"You all are here!" The characteristic Misty Quigley's cheerful voice greets them. Y/N could hear Shauna grit her teeth, cursing something under her breath. It calls Jackie's attention, who gave her a warning look.

After the interruption, they let the founders explain why they decided to create this club and later they put in pairs to practice. Jackie immediately chose Shauna, Van and Tai got together too, it let Y/N look shyly around her.

"I can go with you!" PJ approaches her, giving her a reassuring smile. Y/N thanked her, she dismissed it and grabbed her hand, going a little away from the girls. "We can practice better without anyone interfering." She explained, blushing when you nod and turned her back at her.

PJ explained what Y/N needs to do, teaching with her hands what she has to do. When she did it wrong PJ grabbed her hand and gently positioned it correctly.

"C'mon, punch me!" PJ encouraged her, putting her fist up.

Y/N grimace, unsure. "Really? I mean, I prefer if you do it first." PJ bit her lower lip, the red shadow coming back at her cheeks. "Are you okay?" The footballer is worried, noticing the red cheeks.

"Yeah, it is hot here." PJ lied, clearing her throat. "Okay, I'll go first and you need to block it and punch me back, alright?" Y/N nods.

PJ licked her lips and nodded to herself, counting to let Y/N time to react. When PJ moves her fist to try to connect with her face, she never thought she actually would hit Y/N's face. She thought the other girl would block and throw back the punch. But Y/N screaming in pain and the sound that makes her nose when her fist connects with her septum, PJ stands stunned on her spot.

Shauna went immediately to help Y/N, the rest of the girls following her. The brunette gently removes Y/N's hands around her face and grimace when saw the blood fall like a fountain. At this PJ reacts, starting to apologise feeling really bad about it.

"Okay, I'm going to take you to the infirmary." Shauna said, standing up and helping her friend. Her other friends accompanied them and the rest looked awkwardly waiting for a new command.

It's Hazel who dismisses the class, promising that they let them know when would be the next class. Josie approaches PJ and wipes her tears, hugging her.

•••

The next day when Lottie sees Y/N almost pass out. The tall girl approaches her and hugs her. "What happened?" She asked, worry. She removed from the hug but stayed closed.

"It's my first punch that I received!" Y/N excited said. It made Lottie frown confused.

"Who punches you?" She inquired, a suspicious look installing on her eyes.

"Relax, it was an accident. PJ was my partner and while she taught me and accidentally hit my nose, I was supposed to dodge it." Y/N explained.

Lottie tense when she heard what happened. Actually she is fuming, wanting to do the same thing with the girl and really teach some real defensive skills.

"You aren't going anymore." Lottie murmurs lowly, grabbing your hand and taking her to her first class, like usual.

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Not offense, Lottie. But I need to remember I play football? And when Stacy Moon punches on the ribs? It's nothing." She tried to reassure her best friend, moving her hand up and down for her arm when they stopped near the class. Natalie passed there and saw the gesture, she rolled her eyes and got inside. "I'll see you later, okay? Nat, wait! Look at my nose!" Lottie rolls her eyes this time, a tiny smile playing on her lips watching her going behind the dyed blonde and showing it.

The brunette saw Shauna trying to hide from her. She scowls, knowing very well why she is doing it. Lottie thought it was a little silly because they shared the first period and they sat down near. She let her friend hide all she wanted, soon Lottie would corner her.

"Before you said anything! There are more of us too, don't blame me." Shauna quickly said, licking her lips nervously.

Lottie rounded her desk while looking at her and sat down on her own. "You are right. I have that in mind in a future." She muttered, advertising her gaze and grabbing her book.

Shauna frowned, not liking the reaction her friend is having. She knows how protective Lottie is when Y/N is involved. She could understand because she felt the same with Jack-... nevermind, what Shauna wants to know is why Lottie isn't around Y/N but she is, how is the responsibility to take care of Y/N pass to her?

The rest of the class Shauna was uncomfortable, wishing it finishes and went to her second period, gladly she has it with Tai and not Lottie.

Lottie went to her second class and saw how PJ and Hazel entered it. Her first impulse was to approach the curly hair girl and punch her, but already she has suffered it on her nose. She thinks about Y/N and what would she say to her if she threatened PJ. So Lottie walked with her jaw clenched, an arm around her shoulder distract her. Turning her eyes to the person she saw a snide smirk in Nat's face.

"Easy there tiger. Y/N told me about it. PJ didn't have the fault either Y/N." The blue eyed girl said, entering the classroom and going to the end of the class, sitting on her usual desk.

Lottie gave her a sarcastic smile, rolling her eyes.

•••

After the accident, PJ went to the infirmary encouraged by Josie and Hazel and went to apologise. For her luck, Y/N reassuringly said that it was an accident. Even she made a joke that now they are matching, pointing their noses.

So the next day they have another class and two new members. Y/N's eyes opened and grinned excitedly when she saw Lottie and Natalie walk inside. The expressions they were wearing were very different. Lottie wore a serious expression, softening it when saw Y/N's face and Natalie had a smug smirk the whole time.

"You two are here!" Y/N exclaims excited, giving them a brief hug.

"I have convinced her." Natalie sang, giggling when Lottie gave her a dirty look. She patted Y/N's shoulder and went with Van and Tai sitting with them.

Y/N grabs the brunette hand and goes to sit down on the floor, waiting for the class to start. "I thought you were skeptical about it." She teases her, nudging her shoulder with hers.

Lottie rolls her eyes, a playful smile resting on her lips. "I still think this is stupid, but I will give an opportunity." She said in a boring tone, chuckling when Y/N punched softly in her arm. "That and to defend you from these angry girls."

Before Y/N could reply, Hazel approaches them and greets Lottie animatedly. "Hey! I'm glad you are here." She said sincerely.

They engaged in a short conversation, Y/N staying aside and listening to it. Her mind is picturing why these two know each other. Her didn't wonder too much because someone was clapping to call their attention. Before Hazel goes with PJ and Josie, she asks Y/N how she felt from yesterday's event.

"How do you know her?" Y/N asked curiously, following the calm girl step towards the pair. Lottie turned to look at her, a little surprised by the tone she used, but she decided to not point it out.

"She is in the photography club too. She is really good at it." The brunette explained, biting her lip.

Y/N nods, pursuing her lips.

"Already! Today we will continue with yesterday's movements and before we finish, practice against each other. It continues for tomorrow all day, okay? Let's go!" Josie exclaims, clapping with her hands and dismissing the group in pairs.

Y/N and Lottie stood up. "Can you go with Nat? I don't want to let PJ out." She pouted.

"Really?" Lottie asked, unbelievable. But Y/N begged her and intertwined her hands, making emphasis. "Okay. But only this time." She rolled her eyes, scolding herself and reproaching she needed to be stronger. Spoiler: she will not.

For this, Y/N grabs Lottie's face between her hands and tiptoeing, she kisses her cheeks repeatedly. Then, she went towards PJ, letting a blush mess behind her.

The rest of the session they have a lot of fun. Y/N punched a few times at PJ, without intention. The same with the curly hair girl, the best part is that they have some good laughs about it. Then, they all gathered in the middle and the first ones to fight each other were the best friends, followed surprisingly with Shauna and Misty. A good tie. And before they call it over, Y/N and Jackie were the last ones.

"Scared, baby girl?" Jackie teasingly said with an amused smile. Y/N rolls her eyes when she hears the nickname her friend gives her at the start of the year.

"Sure." Y/N murmurs, positioning herself and looking at her with deep concentration.

They rounded themselves a few times, cheerful from the other girls who were heard in the big gym. Jackie is the first one to attack Y/N, but this one dismisses it quickly, gaining support from the presents there. The next time Jackie does the second attack, Y/N dodge it and throw her fist to Jackie's left cheek, hitting her. The captain let out a hiss, Y/N worried a little when she hit her but soon positioned herself in position when Jackie quickly reacted and gave her a kick on her ribs. Y/N doubled herself on the floor, bringing her hand to the kicked zone.

"Shit! Are you alright?" Jackie's raspy voice sounded more, she bent down and put a hand on her shoulder.

Lottie and PJ approach them fast, making them stop abruptly and look at each other. PJ's gaze is awkward while Lottie is serious.

"I'm fine." Y/N let out a hiss, but reassure her friend who looks really worried.

"Okay, I think it is over. Good fight girls." Josie said.

Shauna walked to Jackie and Y/N, nudging Lottie when she passed by her side. The brunette bit her lip and gave PJ a force smile. "Good job, PJ. I can't wait to come back." If PJ knows her, she would catch the real meaning of those words, but Lottie is really good at hiding it and only Shauna and Jackie catch them.

PJ nods, relaxing. "Cool. See you tomorrow!" She said and walked fast to her friend.

"Give her a break, Matthews." Jackie scolded her, helping Y/N with Shauna's help.

"Shut up." Lottie muttered.

•••

The days passed and Lottie actually started liking these classes. She couldn't go to every class due to her extra classes, but when she could go, it was a really good time.

It worsened the crush she has on Y/N. Her eyes are prolonging more on her figure and her dreaming is interrupted by her friends, receiving later teasing comments.

For Y/N, it changed too. She didn't know she had something for Lottie until that Hazel girl started to talk more with her, making her laugh. Y/N commented on it with Van, since she knew the redhead more than the other girls. The freckled redhead said to her between some teasing and joking comments that she has a crush on Lottie. At first Y/N denied it, but then Van started to point things and then she assumed the redhead was right.

And it didn't help that the same day Y/N could face Hazel wad the day that two couldn't stop talking, making Y/N really piss about it. Shauna and Van intervene to hold Y/N when she pinned Hazel on the floor and started punching her, not with a strong hit but enough to make some cut to the kind brunette. Lottie went to help Hazel, a worried look on her face and it made Y/N angrier, so with quitting the hold on her figure she stormed out, not looking back.

Y/N ran away from there, her legs took her to the changing room. She sighed and let out a huff, sitting on her usual bench. The best part is that she has training sessions now and it means she will see Lottie. And she probably will be angry with her.

"There you are." PJ's voice interrupted her mind. She is panting, bending down and putting both hands on her knees, catching some air. It amused a little Y/N.

"You are in the right place." Y/N inevitable remark at her, PJ rolls her eyes but walks towards her, sitting on the floor with her knees up while reposing her arms there, looking at her.

"What happened there?" The curly hair girl asks softly.

Y/N averted her gaze, clicking her tongue. "I don't know... I just got a lot of information I guess..." She mutters, playing with her fingers on her lap. She isn't lying, after all.

"You like Lottie Matthews." PJ points out, making Y/N open her eyes and stammering repeatedly a no. PJ gave her a kind smile. "I see how you look at her," the blue eyed girl said, shrugging. "It's the same manner I look at Brittany... Or any girl in general." The last comment made Y/N laughs, PJ laughed with her. "Look, you need to confess to her because it could be bigger and maybe you regret it in the future to not tell her how you really feel. Remember that you aren't losing anything."

"What about her friendship?" Y/N asks, unsure.

"Right." PJ said under her breath, frowning." But it wouldn't happen." She reassured her. Y/N threw at her and wrapped her arms around her neck, taking surprise at PJ.

"She is here!" Someone yells, making both jump. Y/N scolded Van, who wiggles their eyebrows.

Y/N raised her index finger in the air. "Don't say anything." She warns at the redhead.

Van raised their hands in the pockets of their jacket. Soon, the rest of the girls approach there. PJ stood up, feeling really nervous.

"I think I'm going with Josie and see how Hazel is," Y/N grimace with Hazel's name and PJ immediately rectified, not wanting to make her feel bad. "Or not, she is fine." Then, she waves and walks fast from there.

Natalie steps towards Y/N and gives her backpack. "And I thought you were the weak one." She receives a nudge from her, making Nat chuckles. The dyed blonde patted her arm and went to change.

Y/N sees how the rest do the same, the girls don't go to the fight club showing up. But what called her attention was Lottie. The brunette is standing near her, crossing her arms while trying to decipher her. She stood up too and stepped towards her.

"Lottie, I'm sorry. I don't know why I did it." She apologised, feeling bad. The brown eyed girl shakes her head softly, making the other frown. "No...?"

"It's not me you need to apologise." Lottie gently told you and with a sight she went to change too.

•••

When Y/N thought anything could go more bad, she was wrong. Following Lottie's advice, Y/N went to apologise with Hazel. But she doesn't have time to do it because when she approached the class was going to start, so she made a mental note to speak with the girl after it finished.

It never happened.

Result that the girls went to do an adventure to Jeff's house. Y/N really enjoyed it, she was sticking with Nat and Van the whole time. That's not the reason why Y/N didn't apologise, she didn't even know that she was going but Jackie threw her at the van.

During class, they decided to open up and say why they want to learn to fight. Y/N and Lottie never got the opportunity to speak on it. She didn't know how everything started but PJ accused Hazel and Josie accused PJ. Hazel stormed out when PJ told her a hurt comment.

Then, in the introduction to the football team, a player called them out. Hazel fought with a guy who was in a cage. It happened too that PJ and Josie lied to them, they never went to a juvie centre. Y/N felt betrayed, like the rest of the girls.

Since that day, Y/N hasn't talked with Lottie. Scared to give her the reason, that she was right from the start. In the training session she avoided Lottie and remains with Nat or Shauna. They tried to reason with her, but it did not matter what they said to Y/N, the girl didn't listen.

So right now, it is the big day. The football team would play against their big rivals. Y/N has the jacket of her team, walking between Van and Tai to the stands. Someone has another plan and pulled her hand and took her under the stands. Y/N did not oppose resistance when her eyes found the long brown hair cascading on her back. It is Lottie.

She let out Y/N's hand and crossed her arms, looking at her with a defeat look. The other girl noticed how prominent dark circles are under her eyes, telling her how bad she is sleeping.

"I don't know why you are ignoring me. But please, stop. It hurt me, from all of the people you can't be mad at me. I don't care if some of the others are mad at me..." Lottie begged, Y/N saw how she was holding her tears.

Y/N felt like a bad person. She didn't deserve Lottie at all. She brings her hand to grab one of her hands, caressing the palm in circles. "I'm sorry, Lottie. I'm not pretending to hurt you I just don't want to confront you or you telling me about how bad the club idea was... I'm a stupid."

"You aren't a stupid. And I can't say it was a good idea because in some way the girls helped us." Lottie murmurs, catching with her thumb yours.

"There is one more reason..." Y/N advertised her gaze, feeling shy about it. Lottie brings her free hand to her cheek, her gaze coming back to the brunette, seeing the warmth on her brown eyes. "I realised, with Van's help," she poorly said, seeing a tiny smirk appear on Lottie's lips. "That I like you, like you. That's why I acted with Hazel like that. I mean it's not a reason to excuse my behaviour. I guess I got jealous and..." Lottie shush you with her finger, lit on her eyes. The height difference showing up since Y/N needed to look up.

"Can you repeat it?" Lottie asked in a husky voice, hopeful swimming in her eyes and on her smile.

"I guess I got jeal-," "Not that part." Lottie chuckles.

"I like you." Y/N whispered.

Lottie closed the gap and brushed her lips with hers, bringing her other hand to her cheek and caressing the skin there, deepening the kiss. After they need breath and separate, Lottie leans her forehead on Y/N's, brushing their noses.

"I like you too." Lottie confess.

But before they could continue on their bubble, Josie and PJ interrupted them and between apologies, they asked for their help.

"We could do it better." Lottie whispered on Y/N's ear, kissing her head while the girl leaned on her shoulder giggling, covered in blood just like her. The arm the brunette has on her waist pushed softly towards herself, trying to be the most near possible.

They saw Shauna and Jackie's first kiss.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets imagine #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader

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regnumaves · 2 years ago

Note

“Hah! I like your attitude.” Tibarn smirks, hand quickly moving towards the shoulder where Yuri’s arrow lodges itself. It hurts a bit, naturally, but nothing he hasn’t got experience with. Whether this is just where the kiddo chose to aim, or they made the decision not to go for his wings, he isn’t sure, but good for both of them. A disgusting, nasty arrow shot by a beorc threatening his wing - that is when he starts to see red.

“No intend to patronize, my apologies. But I’d rather not get in trouble with Lady Rhea.”

Tibarn HP: 3.5/6

With a calm gesture, he breaks off the shaft of the arrow embedded in his shoulder, in order to get it out of the way. The rest of it will be dealt with later.

After that, he lunges towards the student one more time.

Tibarn attacks Yuri with Killer Knuckles: 2d20=9, 14. Hit (Miracle procs!), Crit. Yuri HP: 0/5

Two more quick hits intended to knock the air out of the other fly at Yuri in unison with the hum of Tibarn’s feathers, before the Hawk pulls back once more. Looks like it’s going to be over this time; indeed, they are here for a good time, and a good time does not necessarily have to involve serious injury.

“You’ve got a good hand,” he says. Rare for him of all people to compliment an archer, but if he’s gonna teach around here, there are certain grudges he has to hold back. “Go, get your ribs checked up just in case.”

(Fading Blow: 2d20=9, 7. Hit x2 w/ +1 Str: -4 HP. Tibarn HP: 6/6)

Ah, an archer. At the sight of the weapon most behated by every Hawk, Tibarn lowers himself down to the ground and shifts back to the human-like form. This one is probably more safely faced on equal level to the walker.

"Yuri of the uhhh Blue Lions, huh? Alright, let's see how this goes." He smirks. "I don't normally punch students, but a battle's a battle and this is all I've got." Indeed, as one not in the slightest knowledgeable with beorc weaponry, untransformed Tibarn is only left with what nature saw fit to grant him, and some extra funky equipment he found that looked easy enough to attach to his hands.

"Don't take this personally."

With that, he rushes towards Yuri, sending two strikes towards the other's chest area - it's not like he wants to give the poor guy a concussion and kill him - before retreating a step.

"Alright, show me what you've got!"

Yuri of the Blue Lions. It's been a while since they've heard that one. You couldn't really call them a patriot— Faerghus could go up in flames for all they really cared, so long as the people they loved were safe— but it's the part they can play best. They did it for four years, and if an Ashen Wolf wanted to join in the fun of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, they had to pick a side.

Blue, yellow, or red— it's all the same to them.

“Didn't realize I was so famous,” they drawl with a quirk of their lips, an arrow spinning idly in their hand. “That's me. But a battle's no fun if you hold back. There's no need to patronize me. We're all here for a good time, yeah?” And a good time didn't have to be a long one. Yuri knows themself, if nothing else. If it was a battle of strength that they had to fight, they would lose rather handily.

Yuri [1.5/5HP] heals +0.5HP from Prayer Ring. Yuri uses Deadeye with the Killer Bow. ROLL 1D20+2: 7! Hit! -2HP [Base] + -0.5HP [Deadeye] = -2.5HP

Still, it doesn't mean they have to go down without a little bit of a fight. They cough sharply for air as their opponent's blows connect in quick succession, matching his retreat with two steps backward of their own. It could've been worse. He could've gone for their face instead, and it would be a shame to have bruises bloom where they can't easily hide. These injuries they could cover up just fine.

Muscle memory guides the arrow to its nocking point, drawing back the bowstring until it's reached its full draw. If the old man's rigorous training was good for anything, then they can at least do this in their sleep, arms aching with the ghost of the memory of days spent shooting until their arms were sore from the effort.

“Satisfied yet?” they ask as the arrow flies free, the faintest grimace crossing their expression. “I didn't realize I was here to put on a show. I would've put on my nice clothes if I'd known.”

#❁ all skies shall belong to me ; ic. ❁#❁ sometimes it is necessary to exchange a few words ; ask. ❁#toaboel2023 #((wooo thank you!))

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velvees-archive · 17 days ago

Text

Tags: Love Confessions, Getting Together, Found Family, Miles POV, Insecurity

and more!

this is my day 16 submission for @fictober-event, and my late contribution to unnecessary feelings day…which passed two days ago. woops!

Prompt: “No, I’m not okay”

inspired by my tumblr post here!

An errant strand of jet black hair bobs to and fro as he pores over Miles’ face. "Edgeworth? You with me?" He’s surrounded by an emulsified blurb of noises: easy laughs, accompanying shouts, a beat. Miles isn’t feeling quite up to a lengthy conversation about his rationale, not when he’s insisting to himself that Wright is happy, he is happy, that the fire brewing inside of him is a fluke, and that perhaps it was time for him to move forward with his therapy sessions— “I was asking why you did it.” If he were to tell Wright that he already knew the answer: that he'd been spurred into action due to his creed and his pursuit of justice, he knows he’d only be propagating a half-truth—a secret by omission. In other words, a lie. “I wanted to help you,” he says, earnestly. Wright's shoulders rise and fall, an even rhythm. He takes a deep breath in, and the silence scatters. “Why?” - Miles Edgeworth does not long for more than he’s already been given. Sometimes, though, he thinks about it.

a few days ago, i proposed that narumitsu hits even harder when miles is the one hopelessly pining over phoenix following his disbarment. i also happened to want to explore phoenix working through the “prosecutor miles edgeworth chooses death” fiasco in jfa.

hence, this fic.

fic screenshots:

misc commentary/musings under the cut! :)

one day, i’ll stick a fic landing. it won’t be today, but one day...

very fun idea that became more convoluted as i tried to parse through dialogue, leaving me with 3 pages of unused scenes and dialogue exchanges. i can’t tell if i really hate this fic or really really hate this fic. regardless, it’s out there now, so no takebacksies :)

i’m happy with how the setting came out though! purposefully isolating miles from the rest of the group while they were in the karaoke bar was dirty work on my part but necessary for setting the tone of the story. phoenix is a bit mean here but i think that smarminess is integral to phoenix wright, especially when he’s confronted with his repressed abandonment/dependence issues.

did i sacrifice characterization for liberal dialogue choices though? absolutely!

about the title. it was originally supposed to be called “kill the lights” but i switched it to save me a seat because i think it gets the point across better!

i still don't think i've gotten the angst worms out, mostly because this fic doesn't follow my narumitsu getting together hc + the way i feel their characters are in canon. miles is a bit too self aware and eloquent w his feelings, while phoenix is too nice and too mean at the same time. there's always the next fic tho, thankfully! and maybe once i’ve gotten characterization down, i can share my actual hc

i have a few other fics i want to pump out before i start playing the great ace attorney and my lack of object permanence catches up on me. i’m thinking of making a low stress fic (lie, writing is never low stress for me) from an outsider’s pov. you’ll never guess who the outsider is tho, i promise

#ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #narumitsu #fictober #narumitsu fanfiction #vel’s narumitsu fics #trucy wright #soj #queued post

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hailqiqi · 3 months ago

Text

One Bed(sit)

Happy One Bed Wednesday!!!

Here's my continuation of @sciroccoorion35 first chapter in our Round Robin roommates fic!

Words: 1,373

Read on AO3 here, or under the cut on tumblr.

Previous Chapter

Lockwood wished she hadn’t offered to share the bed.

The floor had been fine. No, really; Lockwood had slept in graveyards, under bridges, and (on one memorable occasion when he was ten) on his feet, wedged between a wall and a dusty wardrobe. He could sleep anywhere and Lucy’s floor really wasn’t that uncomfortable.

It was just…well, in all their long months apart he’d somehow forgotten that the blood of the far North ran through Lucy’s veins. When he’d asked why she’d chosen to live in what was (frankly) an out-of-the-way hovel, she’d shrugged and said, ‘It’s not much, I know, but it’s warm and dry.’

Apparently ‘warm’ had a very different definition where Lucy was from. Her bedsit was bloody freezing. Practically Arctic. Lockwood was flabbergasted at the lack of frost covering the windows. And yet, Lucy slept on, for what felt like hours now.

They’d turned in before midnight – early for agents, true, but it had been a long day after a long night after a long winter, and sitting around in that tiny space with all those elephants in the room had been awkward enough that sleep felt like the more dignified prospect. Lucy must have been as run down as she’d looked since she’d fallen asleep almost immediately, hair splayed on the pillow and expression relaxed and soft in a way that made him want to stay awake and simply gaze at her. It had taken him about thirty minutes to realise how creepy that behaviour was, though, so instead he’d settled down on her floor and tried to sleep.

At first he’d been determined to see it out despite the goosebumps riddling his flesh – after all, he was an agent, and a bloody good one, at that.A little cold was in the job description, and he’d had worse. Eventually he’d caved and added Lucy’s dressing gown to the makeshift floor bed, and then his coat, all the while mentally cursing George’s stubborn refusal to dig out the sleeping bag he knew he had somewhere (‘It doesn’t fit two, though,’ the bastard had said, and no amount of that’s really not necessary had made him budge. In the end, Lockwood had left the house with a pillow and quilt rolled up in a duffel bag after slamming the door on George’s smug smirk).

In the end he’d added any towels he could find as even more extra layers, and was digging through her laundry pile in the dark when his shuffling woke Lucy up. Sharp words were exchanged (another thing he’d forgotten: hell hath no fury like a Lucy freshly-woken), culminating in him being told to ‘Get in the bloody bed, Lockwood.’ And so, at 2 a.m. in the morning, a shivering Anthony Lockwood had crawled into the warmth of Lucy Carlyle’s bed.

Despite his protestations against George’s insinuations, Lockwood had, in fact, dreamt about doing this. If he was going to be honest, he’d pictured himself in Lucy’s bed frequently over the two years of their acquaintance – sometimes as an idle flight of fancy that was quickly quashed with a sledgehammer labelled denial propriety, sometimes as a secret, guilty, pink-tinged fantasy where little sleep was had, and – more recently – often as a bitter, self-flagellating daydream, tainted with the knowledge that it could have been possible if he’d only pulled his head out of his arse a few weeks earlier. Of course, regardless of the other details in the dream, Imaginary-Lockwood had always slept at the other end of the bed with his arms around her lithe form like real lovers do, instead of top-and-tailing like the small children they most definitely were not. Also, Imaginary-Lucy kept her feet well away from his ribcage, and her knees weren’t nearly as sharp.

Imaginary-Lucy’s bed was also a lot more comfortable, whereas Real-Lucy’s bed creaked with every tiny shifting movement, and was so lumpy he felt sure his back was bruising like the proverbial Princess and the Pea. The bed was warm, sure – and Lucy’s body was like a furnace, setting his own skin alight wherever they touched – so the goosebumps were gone and that was pleasant, he supposed. But really, at what cost?

Oh well, it was too late now. Lockwood still had his pride, and he refused to admit defeat twice in one night. (Also, the snarky voice in his brain that sounded like George couldn’t help but point out that it would be much easier to talk himself into sleeping at the other end with Lucy if he stuck with the top-and-tailing first, and Lockwood had built a successful business atop his ability to recognise opportunities when they presented themselves. The rest of him reminded himself quite sternly that that wasn’t the goal here.)

(But it was nice to dream.)

The discomfort was good, actually. Advantageous. The toes at his throat would help him stay awake, and that would mean he could actually fulfil his stated purpose and keep Lucy safe from intruders. They’d piled all of Lucy’s kit against the door, but at the end of the day it was still broken; Lockwood may have had absolute faith in Lucy’s skills, but she had to sleep some time and, at the end of the day, she was an attractive girl living alone. He’d have preferred it if she’d agreed to sleep at his place, but then Lucy was nothing if not stubborn.

Then again, at 35 Portland Row there was nothing stopping her from sneaking out in the middle of the night to throttle that Mailer boy, and well…it was Lucy. Of course she’d been rather calm about her bedsit being ransacked – shaken, naturally, but she’d kept her head straight and simply gotten on with things, an attitude that Lockwood had always thought of as her MO. Alas, in recent months he’d had to accept that her actual MO was to remain rather calm and practical in poor circumstances and then to continue remaining rather calm and practical while pulling some batshit crazy stunt like ‘running away to London’ or ‘sneaking out in the middle of the night to go freelance’.

He shoved at one of Lucy’s errant limbs (how many of them did she have?) and rolled onto his side to stare resolutely at the broken door in the dim half-light. Yes, it was better this way. Even if he did fall asleep, he was close enough that Lucy wouldn’t be able to sneak out on him again, so the bed was superior to the floor in all ways, mattress and girl be damned. After all, he was Anthony John Lockwood, and he would not be cowed by some slight dis–

A sudden kick to the jaw sent pain lancing through his skull, leaving him reeling as Lucy continued to squirm, her foot finding his throat and then his ear before she settled half sprawled on her front, one knee digging into his stomach. She let out a gentle sigh, and then whispered – clear as day in the darkness – ‘Goldfish in the newspaper.’

Wounded, sore, and annoyed, Lockwood propped himself up on his elbows and stared.

Lucy’s lips were slightly parted, her expression serene, looking nothing short of a goddess in the quiet night. At that moment, though, Lockwood wanted nothing more than to commit a little blasphemy and shove her bodily off of her lumpy, creaky mattress, consequences be damned. He should be on the floor. He should be back in Marylebone, for fuck’s sake, comfortable and warm and unmolested in his own bed. Yet here he lay, frustration building, unable to tear himself away and asking: Why her? Why her? Lockwood prided himself on his rational thought, logical decisions and carefully-weighted actions; as well as, of course, his looks. And there were so many girls in London, surely it would have been a trivial matter to fall for one a little more sane and a little less…Lucy.

But then Lucy let out a gentle sigh, snuggling into her pillow with a whisper of his name, and all was forgiven because Lockwood was, apparently, pathetic.

He thumped back down against his pillow, shoving her legs to the side to make space. The clock read 3 a.m. It was going to be a long night.

#lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #my writing #fic rec #ball's in your court now lizzie!

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