#A MONTH IS STILL TOO FAR ACTUALLY *FALLS TO MY KNEES*

[aemondapologistfrfr]

I See You As You Are - Pt6

aemond x f!reader 

Series Masterlist

Summary: You and Aemond take your pregnancy step by step. Your love continues to grow as you both prepare to welcome your child into the world. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing(aeg has dialogue lmfao), time skips so we can enjoy loving and devoted aemond, preg!reader, idk it gets a little angsty but like in the best ways!!, desperate kisses fr, humping, fingering, p in v, birth scene - it’s nothing too crazy or descriptive 

Authors Note: sometimes this is just so sickeningly sweet i feel like im on my fucking death bed ok!!!! i love them! i love their letters! i love their love! i just UGH ❗️- in my mind aemond and aegon actually get to be brothers and be happy AND real siblings like idc!! i hated my sister growing up and now that’s actually my best friend - ok yap done continue on w ur story 

Word Count: 9.7k - no i will never be chill w this series or this man next question pls

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You’ve heard of the different signs that confirm a woman is carrying a child but you haven’t experienced any of them thus far. The mornings have remained the same and you can’t help but wake with a furrowed brow every morning. What if you’re doing something wrong? What if you can’t have a child? What then? Will Aemond get rid of you? Your chest tightens and you feel tears start to slip down your face. 

You untangle from Aemond and slowly make your way to the bathing chambers not to wake him from your sobs. You look at your red cheeks in the mirror that seem more puffy than normal and bury your head in your hands. As your sobs continue to wash through you, you sink to the floor and wrap your arms around yourself as you lean against the wall. 

But why would your moon blood be late? It’s been well over a month now, almost nearing two. You unwrap your arms and bring your hands to your stomach and look down upon it. “Please.” you softly plead as more tears fall down your face. “Please, I just want to have a child. I’d be content with even just one, please.” you look up at the ceiling hoping the Gods can hear you through the stone. 

“Please.” you whisper before pulling your knees up to your chest and hugging yourself as you cry. 

“What’s wrong?” Aemond kneels before you, pulling you into his arms. “Tell me.” he brings a hand to the back of your head as you curl in closer.

“What if I can’t carry a child?” you sob into his chest. “Other women say they get sick in the morning and they get sore but,” you hiccup. “I just want to carry our child. What if..” your sobs start anew.

“Shh, shh,” he smooths your hair, holding you closer. He wishes he could tell you everything will be perfectly fine but he knows nothing of what women go through when they carry a child. “Would you like to see the maester?” he asks softly and you nod your head. 

“Will you..” shakes rock through your body. “Will you leave me? Will you find another?” your fingers dig into his back. “Aemond, I’m sorry. I’m not a good wife. I’m not good en- 

“Enough of this talk.” he lifts you off of the ground. 

“I’m sorry.” you're still crying as you bury your head into his neck. “Please don’t leave me. Please.” he tries to set you on the bed but you won’t let go. “I’m scared that if you let go you’ll never touch me again.” your breathing deepens even more as you cling against him. 

“I will do no such thing.” he sits back on the bed and continues to hold you against him. “You’re mine and I would neve replace you with another. Let me tell our guard to collect the maester and we’ll get dressed and wait here for him.” he rubs your back as you shake your head. 

“I’m scared.” you whisper. 

“I will be brave for the both of us.” he hums. “I will be back in just a minute.” his brows furrow at your whine and he wishes he could be more helpful to you. “I love you very much. I will never leave you. If the Gods don’t grant us children then so be it.” your sobs start anew and his eye widens. 

“I want a child, Aemond. I want our child. I’ll do anything. Gods please,” he watches your damped red face look towards the ceiling as you plead. “I’ll be a good mother. I’ll treat them so very well. I’ll raise them to be fine Princes and Princesses.” you hiccup. “Please,” his heart is slowly cracking at your sobs and he walks to the wardrobe to dress quickly and bring you a dress to slip on. 

Aemond scoops you up in his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck still softly crying. His guard looks at him in alarm and he shakes his head once before starting down the hall to the maesters tower. He carries you up the stairs listening to you sniffle and tries to settle his racing mind. You softly thread your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he holds you tighter. 

“I love you.” you whisper and he smiles, feeling your lips press against his neck. 

“I love you.” he hums softly, rubbing your back as he comes to a stop in front of the maesters doors. “May I set you down?” you nod. Once you’re on the ground you look up at him with your red eyes and he cups your cheeks. “No matter what he has to say, you are my wife and I am your husband from now until the end of time.” he nods and swiftly wipes away your tears that slowly fall. 

“Okay.” you whisper as he pushes the door open for you both. 

“What can I do for you?” the grand maester rises from the table and looks at Aemond and then sees you peer around his back. “Are you alright?” his eyes widen taking in your tear stained cheeks. 

“We are.. unsure if she’s with child and would like your opinion.” Aemond coaxes you to come out and you cling onto his arm. 

“Of course.” he smiles and nods you both to the table where you both take a chair. “Let’s start with when your last moon blood was.” he offers you a comforting smile as Aemond grabs onto your hand. 

“Almost two moons ago.” your voice small as you blink across the table at the man. 

“From that alone I’m almost certain. Do you have any other symptoms?” he looks between you and Aemond. 

“No.” you shake your head feeling your tears start anew. 

“She’s been a bit more emotional than normal.” Aemond whispers and you turn to him with a scrunched face. “It’s okay.” he nods at you. “I do not mind. I’m just trying to give the maester as much information as we have.” he offers you a small smile. 

“Anything else you’ve noticed?” the maester keeps his voice soft. “Could I make you some tea?” he nods at you with an assuring smile. 

“Please.” you scoot closer to Aemond. 

“Her breasts,” you gasp, squeezing Aemonds hand. 

“I have heard much, much worse.” the maester turns to you trying to offer you comfort. He starts to pour the water. “Go on.” he nods to Aemond.

“They seem to be more tender and sensitive.” you feel as if your cheeks are on fire at Aemonds soft words. 

“That is a symptom of note.” the maester nods at you with a smile. “Just because you aren’t exhibiting the main symptoms doesn’t mean there is a cause for concern.” he sets the cup down in front of you. 

“Thank you.” you bring the cup to your lips. 

“Is there anything else you’ve noticed?” the maester turns back to Aemond once he sees you relax into the chair. 

“A larger desire for sweets.” he bites his lip as you turn your head to him quickly. 

“And what is wrong with that?” you purse your lips. 

“Nothing is wrong with that.” he reaches for your hand with a smile. 

“Count yourself lucky that your symptoms are sensitivity and having a desire for sweets.” the maester chuckles. “Hopefully Aemond will be mindful of your needs. I would like for you both to come see me if there are any changes. If not I'd like to check in with you in a month.” he looks between the both of you. 

“Do you think she is carrying a child?” Aemond needs to hear the maester confirm his suspicions and also help put you at ease. 

“From everything you both have shared with me, yes, I believe you’re carrying a child.” he nods and a smile spreads across your face.

“Really?” you squeeze Aemonds hand.

“I believe so.” he nods.

“See.” Aemond rubs his thumb against your hand. “There is nothing to worry about.” he presses his lips to the back of your hand.

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4 months pregnant

Aemond lays next to you in bed softly brushing back your hair as you sleep soundly. His other hand is resting on your growing bump and he can’t bring himself to leave your side for more than an hour. He’s been dressed for some time now but he couldn’t help but crawl back into bed with you. He knows he must answer Aegon’s summons or he’ll barge in here and wake you. He presses his lips to your forehead before leaving your shared chambers. 

He lightly grips your dagger at his hip to calm his nerves. He doesn’t know what Aegon could possibly want but he hopes this is quick. He stops before the double doors and walks into his chambers. His eye darts around the room at the mess and finds Aegon nursing a cup of wine at his table. 

“Finally,” Aegon sighs, motioning for Aemond to sit. “I thought I would have to get your guard to drag you out.” he chuckles. 

“What is it?” Aemond stands at the end of the table. 

“Can you just sit?” he drawls. 

“For what purpose?” Aemond raises his brow. 

“So I can talk with you. My Gods,” Aegon shakes his head. “Must I command you?” he looks up at him exasperated. 

“Then speak.” Aemond sighs, taking a seat. 

“I wanted to congratulate you. You truly seem to love your wife and now she’s with child.” he nods with a smile and Aemond stiffens, not used to a casual conversation. 

“I do love her.�� Aemond nods his head and Aegon sighs at the curtness.

“Look, I know I was a cunt to you growing up,” Aemond stares at him. “And I guess I still am but I mean it out of love.” Aegon offers a lopsided grin. “And I know it was kind of fucked up about the dragon thing.” Aemond clenches his fist debating on offering his new dagger its first blood. “Dreamfyre laid a clutch and you can have your pick for your child.” Aemond freezes at his words.

“What?” Aemond shakes his head, unbelieving. 

“I’m serious.” Aegon nods his head. “We can go down to the pits whenever you please. Or if you want it to be a private affair, I understand.” Aemond searches Aegon's face. 

“You mean this? Truly?” Aemond hears his heart thundering in his ears. “Do not jest with me about this.”

“I do, brother.” Aegon leans back in his chair with his wine. “Be happy.” he raises the cup. “The keepers will help you whenever you please.” Aemond nods once as his brow scrunches. 

“I-” Aemond shakes his head. “Thank you.” he starts to stand from the chair. 

“Running away already?” Aegon stands as he finishes his cup. 

“I don’t like being away from her.” his voice soft. “I am.. grateful for you offering my child an egg.” Aemond takes in Aegon's grin and sighs. “May I leave?” he drags his eye to Aegon.

“Don’t let me keep you waiting.” Aegon chuckles and waves him off. 

The second Aemond is on the other side of the doors he stops and shakes his head. He never imagined Aegon would offer him such a gift. An egg for his child. He had been so terrified of his child having to go through what he did. A smile starts to form on his face and he makes a straight line for you. As he walks up the stairs his heart stops when he hears your soft sniffles. He takes the steps two at a time and when he reaches the top he finds you curled in the blankets hugging his pillow. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.” he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you into his arms. 

“Where did you go?” you look up at him. 

“Aegon had called for me, I’m sorry.” he presses his lips to your forehead. “I’m here now.” you bury your head into his neck. 

“I wish to see you.” you press your lips to his neck.

“Then sit back and look at me.” he chuckles softly. You pull back with a small scowl but your features soften as you start to crawl into his lap. Your lips press against his and he smiles wrapping his arms around you. “Are you looking at me with your lips?” he chuckles against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you sigh. “You usually wake me up with kisses and you weren’t here.” your hands move to the back of his neck and slide into his hair. “I wish to see you.” you press your lips against his. 

“Better?” he chuckles, pulling back from your lips. You look up at him with swollen lips and heaving chest.

“All of you.” he feels your fingers brush against the back of his eyepatch strap. “Please,” he nods at your soft tone. “Thank you.” you slowly pull it off and discard it on the bed. “My Gods you are so handsome.” you look at him with lidded eyes. “Take me, please, Aemond please,” you press yourself against him.

“Take you? Your tears haven’t even dried yet.” he cups your face and he groans lowly as you roll your hips in his lap. 

“Please.” you pant starting to pull your night dress off. “Please Aemond,” he leans back and looks at you desperately rocking against him.

“Lay back.” his hands softly dig into your waist. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Like this.” you whine pulling at the laces on his trousers. He grunts when you push your hands into his trousers. 

“Just let-” he closes his eye as you wrap your fingers around his cock. 

“Please,” you whimper, pressing your lips on his neck as you slowly pump him.

“Then let me lay back at least.” he pants, nodding his head.

“Take off your clothes.” you sit back and pull up his tunic and jerkin at once. He watches you with parted lips as you sit back to pull his trousers down. “Aemond.” you whine when he's still not pulling off his clothes. 

“Yeah.” he nods quickly and pulls his clothes off. He sits back against the headboard and you're climbing in his lap the next second. “You are so very beautiful like this.” he looks at you with devotion. 

“Touch me.” his hands are on your breasts the next moment. He dips his mouth down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. “Mm, please,” you whine grinding down onto his cock. He groans against your chest as you move faster. He kisses across to your other nipple and takes it into his mouth softly jerking his hips up into you. 

“I need to be inside you.” he pulls back and looks up at you. 

“Yes.” you nod your head quickly. He lifts your hips and lines himself up before slowly sliding you down onto him. “Aemond,” you gasp. 

Aemonds breath is knocked from his chest at the feeling of you sitting on his cock. The way your walls hug him has his fingers digging into your hips. “Look at you.” his hands move to spread across your growing stomach. He continues to move them up and cups your breasts. “I love how sensitive these are.” he brushes his fingers against the hardened buds feeling you tremble. 

“I want your mouth,” you pant and he goes for your lips but you whine. “No, down here.” he groans as you grab his cheeks and bring him back down to your nipples. “Yes,” you start to slowly move up and down, holding onto his shoulders.

His tongue lashes against your nipple as whimpers spill from your lips. He jerks his hips up with yours, letting his eye close as he loses himself to you. You cradle the back of his head as you move against him letting out a soft cry when he grazes his teeth against the peak. One of his hands rests on your lower back helping grind you against him while the other softly kneads into your other breast. His fingers roll the bud and you curl over him feeling your pleasure coil.

“Aemond,” you gasp as he starts to jerk his hips faster listening to your high pitched whimpers. “Yes, I’m I-” you cling against him as you fall apart around him. He presses you against his chest as he fills you a moment later. 

“We should add that to our morning routine.” he pulls back from your chest and looks at you with red lips and you nod quickly.

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5 months pregnant 

As Aemond climbs the stairs to your shared chambers his ears are greeted by silence. When he makes it to the landing he sees a few candles lit on the table with a rolled parchment in front of them. He quickly spots you fast asleep and smiles before making his way to read your letter.

-

Husband, 

It’s the full moon tonight and I wish to look upon it with you - and maybe we can make a wish for our child. 

The gardens will do tonight - I’m tired and wish for you to join me in bed - maybe before you wake me for our walk you could bring me something sweet. 

~

Aemond softly chuckles at your requests before making his way back to the stairs. He’s in the kitchens within the next ten minutes having some of the women prepare you a plate with a couple of options. He nods at them before turning and making his way back up to you once more. You’re still asleep when he returns and he smiles as he sets the plate on the table before walking over to you. 

“I come bearing sweets.” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheeks before your eyes slowly flutter open. “I feel bad waking you but I know I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I left you to sleep.” he smiles watching you pull the covers closer. 

“Are you my sweet that you’ve brought me?” you hum, cupping his cheek and pulling him closer. 

“I can be.” he presses his lips against yours. “Or there is a plate of your favorites on the table.” 

“Help me up.” you push the blankets off. 

“Mm, am I not sweet enough for you?” he chuckles, offering you his arm. 

“You are.” you grab onto his arm and start to stand. “But I wish to see the moon and you remind me time and time again you’ll never be quick with me only unless I’m- 

“Begging and trembling.” he smirks down at you. “Though as of late I’ve indulged you in any of your wishes and wants.” he presses his lips to your forehead and brings you to the table. “But I will gently, my wife, gently, remind you that you like to go back to bed once I’ve tended to your desires and not go for a walk in the garden.” he smiles watching a small pout from on your face. 

“I will stay up after our walk.” you sit at the table and he pushes the plate closer to you. 

“Yes, of course.” he takes a piece of your sweet bread hearing your soft whine. 

He watches you pick at the different desserts and chuckles to himself knowing that after this walk the most you’ll want to do is curl into his side and kiss him until you fall asleep against his mouth. He presses his lips to your head and walks to the wardrobe to find you a simple dress and shawl. He’s always admired you in the thin fabric ever since he saw you in it the first time. 

He turns back to you and takes in your relaxed state at the table and smiles to himself. You’re so at ease swelling with his child. You’ve taken to wearing nothing within the walls of your shared chambers and it’s been such a gift. He’s able to admire you fully, thoroughly. There’s no hidden intent behind it, you just want to be in your own skin with your babe as you caress your growing bump. 

“Well if you keep looking at me like that husband I don’t think we’ll make it to the gardens.” you smile as his eye snaps up to you. 

“Am I not allowed to admire my beautiful wife?” he hums, bringing the dress over to you. 

“Admire me once we’re wishing upon the full moon.” you push the plate back and stand. 

“I think I’ll do both.” he hums, holding the dress above you to slide it down over your body. “You’re absolutely radiant.” he whispers while straightening out the fabric. “You’re just so beautiful.” he presses his lips to yours as he wraps the shawl around you. “Carrying our child.” he shakes his head as he places his hands on your bump. 

“I love you.” he’s heard these three words from your mouth hundreds of times but tonight they seem to hug him tenderly. “My husband, my Aemond.” you rest your hand above his heart. 

“Being married to you isn’t enough.” he whispers. “I need you viscerally, it frightens me.. I just want you with me always.” you watch his eye water and you pull him against you. 

“I’m here. I’ll always be here. Soon our child will be here with us.” you smile feeling him hold you closer. “Let us go make a wish for him.” you pull back and look up at him. 

“Him?” he tilts his head. 

“I’ve decided he’s a boy.” a smile spreads across your features. 

“Then a boy he shall be.” Aemond presses his lips to your forehead. 

Aemond leads you down the stairs and you’re both greeted by the dim halls and whispering breezes. You curl against him as you take the main steps and make your way out to the main courtyard. Aemond watches you crane your neck up as you become bathed in the moonlight. He continues to slowly lead you to the gardens and you turn to him with a warm smile. 

“Shall we wish for ourselves or our child first?” you wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his chest. 

“Our child.” he nods, wrapping his arms around you. “Like this?” you nod and look up from his chest to the moon and he does the same. 

You both become one, same breath, same heart beat, same wishes. ‘I wish for our child to be happy and healthy.’ There was no need to add in ‘loved’ because you both care for the child so fiercely. You go to place a hand on your bump and Aemond does the same. He opens his eye and looks down at you as you peer up at him. 

“I love you.” you curl back against him. 

“I love you.” he brings a hand to the back of your head to hold you closer. “Let us make our wishes so we can get you back into bed.” he smooths your hair as you nod. 

You look up at the stars before letting your eyes shut once more. You wrap your arms around him tighter as you send your wish into the sky. Aemond feels you stepping closer and he wishes he could just crack open his soul for you to step inside. He doesn’t know what to wish for tonight. Everything he could ever want is in his arms. He squeezes his eye tightly and feels a tear slip down his cheek. 

“Why are you crying?” you gently wipe away his tear.

“I just love you so dearly.” you pull him down into a soft kiss. 

“And you told the maester that I’ve been more emotional.” he cracks open his eye at your playful tone. 

“Hush.” he takes your lips once more. “What did you wish for?” he mumbles against your lips. 

“For you to kiss me until I fall asleep.” you blink up at him with heavy eyes. 

“I suppose I could do that.” he smiles, taking your hand once more and leading you back into the Keep. 

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6 months pregnant 

Aemond is about to step into your shared chambers when one of Aegon’s guards calls out for him. He watches as the guard half jogs up to him and hands him a rolled parchment. Aemond sighs knowing the contents but unrolls it all the same.

~ 

Aemond, 

I, the King, Your King, command you to go to the pits and collect an egg for your child. 

I will have them tie you to a horse if I must. 

Aegon

~

Aemond folds the parchment and shoves it into his pocket before starting up the stairs. He still hasn’t wrapped his mind around the idea that Aegon would actually give him an egg. He’s terrified it’s another prank and he’ll show up to the pits and it’ll be a bird egg. It’s why he hasn’t told you or gone to the pits. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and when he makes it to the landing you're perched at the table writing on parchment. 

“I was just starting to write you a letter.” you turn to him and set the quill down. 

“Keep going.” he nods with a smile. “I was just preparing to write one to you.” he sits at the table across from you. 

He pulls a piece of parchment in front of him and grabs a quill and a pot of ink for himself. He glances up at you and you look back down to your letter quickly and he silently chuckles to himself. You cover your letter and continue to write while stealing glances at him. He swallows back his laughter as he watches you blow at the ink to dry it before rolling it. You both seal the letters and push them across the table to each other. 

~

Husband, 

I don’t know your plans for the day but I think I will go to the library. 

Then make my way to the kitchen to make absurdly sweet treats with the women and giggle until my tummy hurts. 

Then bathe and have my hair brushed. 

Then you come back and give me kisses - maybe more. 

It’s taken all of my restraint not to climb across this table and beg you to take me now - but I do miss my books. 

I love you. 

~

~

Wife, 

Aegon has need of me for the next hour or two - I hope it’s much shorter - I don’t like to be away from you. 

I’ll return with sweets and I’ll do whatever you please for the rest of the day - no begging and trembling required. 

You have looked absolutely beautiful lately and if you’ll allow, I’d like to get a painting commissioned of you. 

I love you.

~

Your shared chambers are silent as you both read your letters. You both look up to each other with smiles and flushed cheeks. He stands and takes the letter from your hand and walks to the side table to place them with the others. He walks back to you and presses his lips to yours. 

“Would you like me to escort you to the library?” he offers you his arm and you grab onto it and rise. 

“I would appreciate that.” you smile up at him. “What does Aegon need of you?” you hum as you start down the stairs. 

“I’m not sure yet.” he chews his lip. He feels bad for not telling you but he won’t be able to handle it if Aegon is lying. “I shouldn’t be too long.” he brings your hand to his lips as he leads you down the hall to the library. “I’ll miss you.” he whispers into your hair as you both stop in front of the library. “I love you very much.” he presses his lips to yours before pulling back and looking down. “I love you very much.” he splays his hand on your bump and shuts his eye. 

“We love you very much. We’re waiting until we can see you later.” you cup his cheek and bring his lips to yours. 

He nods and pushes the doors open for you before starting towards the main hall. His hands are balled into fits and slightly clammy, unsure of how this afternoon will go. As he enters the main hall he spots Aegon speaking to his guard and when his eyes land on him he turns and walks up to him with a grin. 

“Are you going to the pits? Can I come with? I’ll call us a carriage.” Aegon nods and turns. 

“Why do you want to come with?” Aemond grabs his arm. “Is this a joke? Is there no egg? I swear to the Gods Aegon if- 

“There’s a dragon egg for you child. As I promised. I just thought that maybe we could be different from the rest of our family.” Aegon chews his lip. “It’s an exciting thing. I remember getting the eggs for the twins. It would’ve been better if I wasn’t alone..” he shrugs. “I would like to come with you but if you prefer to be alone that’s okay.” he nods. 

Aemond sighs and closes his eye trying to collect himself. Maybe it would be better to have Aegon come with, he could just kill him in the pits and feed him to the dragons if needed. He’d be able to get back before anyone noticed, take you and flee. He’d get a ship but Gods Vhagar would be flying above and- 

“Stop plotting my murder, you twat. There’s an egg and I'm coming with. Let’s go.” Aegon grabs onto Aemonds arm and drags him out of the Keep. 

Aegon pulls Aemond to the carriage his guard is standing by and all but pushes him inside. Aemond takes his seat and glares at Aegon as he clambers in. Aemond stares across the carriage at Aegon who has a ridiculous grin on his face. He sighs and looks out the window until Aegon kicks his boot. Aemond drags his eye back over to Aegon who is looking at him expectantly. 

“What?” Aemond rolls his eye. 

“Are you terribly excited?” Aegon nods. 

“For?” Aegon sinks down into his seat sighing. 

“My Gods, stop pouting. Your wife that you love is carrying your child and you’re on your way to get your child a dragon egg. It’s okay to be happy, brother.” he shakes his head. 

“I am happy.” Aegon barks out a laugh at his stoic response. 

“Well tell me about her.” Aegon prompts and he watches Aemond’s face soften slightly. 

“She is very kind and gentle. She likes to read with me. She’s calm and relaxed while carrying our child.. unless I’m late waking her up or forget her sweets.” Aemond slightly smiles. 

“I’m happy for you.” Aegon smiles. “Truly.” he nods and Aemond goes back to looking out the window. The carriage rumbles up the hill before it comes to a stop in front of the large doors. Aemond wipes his hands on his trousers before getting out of the carriage. “Is my baby brother nervous?” Aegon leans against Aemond once he’s out of the carriage and giggles.

“My Gods Aegon, get off.” Aemond shoves him away and Aegon starts to walk into the pits laughing over his shoulder. 

Aemond follows Aegon into the pits and watches as he talks to the dragon keepers. They nod at him with a smile and look to Aemond. Aegon gestures with his head for Aemond to follow him and he slowly walks with him down the ramp. The air gets heavier and Aemond is bombarded with memories of when he would sneak in here during his youth. He shakes his head clearing his thoughts and follows Aegon into an alcove. 

“They moved the clutch in here.” Aegon whispers and looks up at Aemond with a grin. “Go on.” he nods quickly. 

Aemond steels himself and lets out a breath before walking over to the large metal pot with a lid. His hand hesitates before he grabs the handle and lifts off the lid. Dragon eggs. They’re here. He hears soft shuffling and feels Aegon's presence at his side. He’s frozen solid. He doesn’t know what to do. An egg for his child. Aemond swallows and turns to Aegon. 

“I don’t really know how to speak as well as you and maybe you’ll hate me forever but I’m sorry.” Aemonds brows scrunch at his brother's words. “For everything. I know this egg won’t fix everything but brother, I love you and I’m sorry for how I acted when we were children and I guess, for how I still act from time to time.” Aegon offers him a toothy grin. “But I’d like for us to maybe try to be a family. I know you now have your own family but maybe I could be your family again too.” Aegon begins to pick at his fingers.

“I..” Aemond scrunches his brows and clenches his fist. 

“Do you want me to leave?” Aegon searches his eyes. 

“No.” Aemond is quick to respond. “I would like to try.” he shakes his head. “In time.. We could..” he swallows, not prepared nor expecting to have this conversation. 

“Yes, of course. As long as it takes.” Aegon's eyes snap up to Aemond. “It’s taken you months to come pick an egg for your child.” a smile cracks on Aegon's face. “Go on.” he nods. “I want to see which one you pick.”

“Do I just grab one? What am I supposed to do?” he flares his nostrils, not enjoying asking Aegon for help. 

“Yeah,” Aegon says softly. “Pick any of them and grab it. The Keepers will bring a smaller pot and lid so you can keep it in that or keep it by the fire in your chambers. Then you put it in the babes crib. Let them bond. They’ll help you with anything else.” he watches Aemond step closer. “Or I can help you too.” Aemond turns to him with scrunched brows. 

“Thank you.” he turns back and looks at the eggs before him. He studies each of them and looks over the colors and runs his fingers against the rough surface before picking one.

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

You wipe your eyes, clearing the tears from laughter as you wave at the ladies in the kitchen. They’ve sent you with a plate of sweets to bring back to your chambers and you tell your handmaidens you’d like a bath in the morning instead. You just want to curl up in bed with Aemond while he reads and feeds you more sweets. You smile as you stop in front of the doors to your shared chambers and begin the climb up the stairs. 

When you reach the landing you see Aemond sitting on the floor by the hearth. You set the plate on the table and start to walk over to him. You slowly sink to the ground next to him and your eyes go wide at the egg he’s holding in both of his hands. 

“Is that- 

“A dragon egg.” his words hushed as he continues to look at the egg. “Aegon..” he looks over to you and you see the tears on his face. 

“What’s wrong?” you scoot closer. “Tell me.” you brush away his tears. 

“He offered our child an egg months ago. I didn’t tell you because I had thought he was joking or it would be one of his pranks so I ignored it. He kept summoning me and I kept burning the letters.” he shakes his head and looks back down at the egg. “I didn’t think he was serious.” you watch his lip wobble. 

“Is that what you did with him today?” you brush his hair back and he turns to you once more. 

“He took me to the pits and he let me pick an egg. A dragon egg. For our child. So he might have a dragon if it hatches.” he smiles but his face crumples and he curses himself as a tear slips out. 

“Why are you crying?” you lean against his shoulder.

“Because I was so scared our child would have to go through what I did and..” he shakes his head. “Aegon apologized for our youth and.. This egg. This is something I never expected. From him. It’s just..” you rest your hand atop his on the egg. “I’m just feeling a lot of.. I’m just feeling a lot and I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry I shouldn’t- 

“Shh,” you wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly. 

“You don’t need to comfort me.” he tries to pull back but you hold him closer. 

“I’m not comforting you. I’m comforting baby Aemond. Who was so brave for facing his brother and nephews day after day. Who despite everything still manages to be so very sweet to me. Who I know will love our child regardless if this egg hatches or not. Oh,” you smile, feeling a soft pressure and grab his hand. “I wanted to show you this. He started doing this today.” you grab his hand and bring it to your stomach. “I think he likes the sweets we made.” Aemond looks at you with a watery eye before setting the egg back into his metal holder. 

“Is this him?” he turns to you and places his other hand on your bump feeling the small kick. “Our son?” his tears start anew. “My Gods I’m so sorry I’m a mess.” he furrows his brows. 

“Do not apologize.” you cup his face. “You’re allowed to have feelings. I will never fault you for that.” you look in his eye and kiss him softly. 

“I love you. Sometimes that’s just not enough. I want to give you the moon and all the stars. I’d offer you my soul if you’d take it, if you’d even want it. I love you. What can I do? What can I give you?” his breathing deepens as his tears continue to fall. 

“Nothing. I don’t require anything from you, Aemond. I love you. It’s unconditional. There’s nothing I need in return to love you as fiercely as I do. I will always love you, never doubt that.” he buries his head into your neck and softly cries. “Is there anything you would like?” you pull back and look at his red face. “We have sweets. I can bring them to the bed and we can feed each other and just hold one another.” you offer him a soft smile as you smooth his hair. 

“I would like that.” he nods and helps you rise from the floor. “Go lay-

“No.” you chuckle. “You go lay down. I will bring the sweets and maybe our book.” you hum. 

“I love you so very much.” he presses his lips to yours and walks with you to the table and carries the plate of sweets despite your protests.

তততততততততততততততততততততততততত��তততততততত

7 months pregnant 

Aemond has been up for almost two hours now watching you sleep in his arms. He doesn’t know how you always look so peaceful. So at ease. He scoots down the bed to lay face level with your swollen stomach and lays a hand against it lovingly. He presses his lips to you softly and calms his breathing before he starts crying, something that happens almost every morning now. 

“I want to meet you so badly. We have a crib set up for you. We can put the egg in there so you can curl up next to it. Your mother has had so many blankets and outfits made for you.” he whispers, pressing his lips against you once more. 

“She’s even had an outfit made to match me. Gods know why.. You’re going to be so sweet and nothing like me.” his breath catches when your hand cards through his hair. 

“You are very sweet, Aemond.” you whisper trailing your fingers down his jaw. “And I think you two will be so very cute when you match. I may even cease to exist on the spot when I see it.” his eye widens at your words. 

“Unfortunately we won’t be able to match or your mother will be taken from us.” he whispers against your bump.

“Hush.” you chuckle. “Your father has exquisite toys made for you. I have yet to see them but knowing him they’re the best in the realm.” you smooth your hand over your skin. 

“Of course they’re the best in the realm. I couldn’t very well have him getting hurt.” his eye snaps up to you. 

“Mm don’t get me started on your small little riding leathers.” you smile.

“They match your mothers. I think seeing you two matching might send me to an early grave.” you click your tongue at his words. 

“Then might all three of us match? Just to increase our survival rate?” he chuckles and presses his lips to your bump once more before kissing back up your body. 

“You are like the Mother made flesh.” he runs his hands up your sides in wake of his lips. “So beautiful.” another kiss is placed on your skin. “So gentle.” his lips are feather light. 

“What is it that you want, Husband?” you chuckle softly, running your fingers through his hair. 

“To worship you. To love you. To kiss you. To touch you.” each statement is separated by his lips grazing against your heated skin. “Is there anything you need before I start?” he lifts his head up and smiles at your red cheeks as you shake your head. 

He presses his lips to yours as he continues to trail his fingers around your skin leaving you softly trembling. He slowly swipes his thumb against your nipple and you gasp into his mouth. He rolls the peak and you let out a soft whimper, squeezing your legs shut. His hand continues lower as his lips continue to claim yours, swallowing down your noises. 

His hand slips between your thighs and you sigh into his mouth. He keeps your mouths connected as he slides his fingers down your slit. “You’re so perfect.” he mumbles before circling your bud. “My wife.” you whine as his fingers start to coax pleasure from you. He kisses down to your neck and softly bites and sucks listening to your small gasps. 

“Aemond,” you whine and he scoots closer and begins to kiss your neck with more fervor. His fingers speed up on your bud and your legs start to shake. “Yes,” you gasp, grabbing onto his arm. Your legs clamp around his hand as you come undone softly moaning. 

“I’m going to have them bring us breakfast.” he continues to swirl his fingers, sending more pleasure through your body. “Then I’ll feed you.” he presses his lips to your neck once more. “Then,” he licks the shell of your ear pulling a whimper from you. “I’m going to lick your cunny until you fall asleep.” he smirks as he feels your pleasure leak out of you. “Then we’ll repeat the process with lunch and supper.” he lifts up and watches your eyes flutter shut as he quickens his fingers. “And of course after dessert.” he smiles hearing your pleasure coat his fingers.

“Please,” you arch your chest off the bed as you come undone once more. He slowly removes his hand from between your legs and captures your lips once more. “I may need a nap now.” you murmur. 

“Then rest, my beautiful wife. I’ll wake you when breakfast is here.” he presses his lips to your forehead and pulls the blankets over you. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

8 months pregnant 

You look at all of your maternity dresses and gowns with a scowl. Aemond brings them out in succession and has had your handmaids bring more gowns into your chambers and you turn them all away. You toss your head back on the chaise and Aemond hisses at everyone to leave the two of you. Once your chambers are cleared he kneels before you and waits for you to look at him. 

“Why couldn’t we have done this when I didn’t rival Vhagar in size?” you pout, still looking at the ceiling. 

“My Gods you do not.” Aemond holds back his chuckle as he grabs your hands. “I think you look so very beautiful like this. Pregnant with our child and absolutely radiant.” he hums and you slowly turn your head down to him. “I wish to have a painting with you as you are now.” you sigh and look back up at the stone. 

“What if,” he nods with an idea. “We get your silk shawl.” you look at him with a raised brow. “Just like this actually.” he looks down at you with a smile and goes to your wardrobe. 

He walks back to you with the fabric and sets it on the armrest of the chaise. He slowly peels off your slip and lets his eye linger longer than necessary until he’s greeted by your pursed lips. He chuckles and grabs the shawl, draping it over your breasts and wrapping it down the side of your bump before covering your center and cascading it over your hip. He steps back and feels his knees weaken. 

“Like this.” he nods. “On your chaise, draped in silk, carrying our child.” he steps closer to you and you’re pulling at his trousers. 

“If I’m to be naked then so will you.” you blink up at him. 

“What do you expect me to cover up with?” he chuckles, helping you pull the laces. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” you watch him get undressed. 

“Might I just sit behind you on the chaise? I can hold you in my arms. Give you kisses while the painter does what he does.” he hums, trailing his fingers down your jaw. 

“I would like that.” you nod up at him, starting to smile. “Can I make a request?” you grab his hand. 

“Anything.” he nods. 

“Might we have your sapphire painted in all its glory with us?” he’s discarding his eyepatch and setting it next to your chaise. “Another request?” you reach out for him and he nods. “Kiss me once more before you call the painter back in?” he’s leaning down and capturing your lips after your last word. 

“Don’t get too worked up.” he chuckles as you pull him down. “Let me go get the painter and I’ll be back.” he presses his lips to your forehead and disappears to return with the painter behind him. 

The painter helps situate the two of you on the chaise and adjusts the silk to make it more flattering for the both of you. For the rest of the day servants come and go with food and drink while Aemond caresses and holds you as the painter captures your love and tenderness with his paints and oils. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

birth

Aemond brings another piece of lemon cake to your lips and you smile accepting the sweet and enjoying the tartness that follows. He brings a cup of water to your lips next and you smile at him before accepting the cup. You start to prop yourself up and he’s there next to you offering you his arm and support. 

“Oh,” you gasp as a wave of pressure washes through you. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he’s been much more on edge as you approach the final days. The maester told him it could be any day now and that has simply ensured Aemond does everything for you and never sleeps. “I’ll go get the maester.” he nods and stops. “I don’t want to leave you.” 

“Aemond, I’ll be fine. Just go get him.” you nod trying not to show that another wave of pressure is pressing against you. You hear him thud down the steps and you hear his tone but not the words as he barks at the guard. He’s back at your side in seconds. “What can I do for you? What do you need?” he’s brushing your hair back. 

“I’m okay.” he catches your small wince and turns to the stairs impatiently. “Relax.” you grab his hand. “We have some time.” you nod. 

“I’m giving him one more-“ he’s kneeling next to you when he hears your small groan. 

“I think we’re going to get to meet our son today.” you let out a breathy chuckle. 

“My Gods, where is the maester?” he looks to the stairs once more. His heart starts beating faster. What if he doesn’t come? My Gods he should’ve read a book on the birthing process. He should’ve- 

“Husband.” you squeeze his hand bringing him back to you. “I am perfectly fine. If you need something to do, go get me some water and maybe a brush and something to secure my hair out of my face.” you nod with a soft smile. 

“I can do that.” he nods and whirls around the room collecting what you requested. “Are you okay?” he hands you the cup. He sits in bed next to you and begins to brush your hair. 

“I’m okay. I promise.” you nod as he starts to pull your hair back and secure it. “I’m so excited.” you whisper, turning to him.

“I am too.” he presses his lips to yours. He hears the doors to your chambers open and he’s on his feet once more. “What took you so long?” Aemond is rushing over to the man once he makes it to the landing. 

“Aemond, enough.” you call out. “Come back to me.” you reach your hand out and see the maesters shoulders relax as Aemond walks back to you. 

“How are you feeling?” the maester walks over to you on the bed. 

“I’ve had some pressure. Coming and going.” the maester nods and Aemond hovers behind him. 

“Is she alright? Is the child alright?” Aemond’s rushed whispers greet our ears. 

“She is perfectly fine, my Prince.” Aemond shakes his head at his soothing words. 

“And where are the midwives? Her handmaidens? Where the fuck is an-

“Aemond.” you hiss. “Go get me more water and get into this bed beside me. I will not have you yell at the maester. There is no need.” the maester offers you a small smile. 

Aemond slides his eye to you and sighs. He closes his eye and starts towards the table to grab the pitcher and bring it to your side table. You busy him with minuscule tasks as the maester asks you questions. Slowly the midwives trickle in and bring in blankets and your handmaidens flock to your side with smiles. 

Aemond watches as your shared chambers slowly become more filled and his mind is racing. He knows you're fine. He can see that you’re fine. He can see your smile and hear your laugh, but he’s terrified. He’s trying not to pace but there’s so much going on in the room and so many people talking all at once he- 

“Aemond.” his eye snaps to you at your soft voice. “Come to me.” you hold your hand out and his hand is engulfing yours the next moment. “Come lay with me. I need you here with me. Please?” you blink up at him and he’s crawling into bed beside you. 

“I’m sorry I’m being a bad husband to you.” he whispers, brushing your hair back. 

“You’re not.” you press your lips to his. “I’m scared too.” you whisper and he cups your face. 

“I’ll be brave for the three of us.” he nods his head and presses his lips to his forehead. “Tell me what you need of me and it’s done.” he searches your eyes. 

“I just want you next to me. Stay with me, please.” your words soft. 

“Of course.” he nods. 

The maester and midwives start speaking to you both and you hold each other and nod along as they tell you what’s to come. The pressure slowly becomes more consistent and you have a vice-like grip on Aemonds hand. He’s softly whispering in your ear about how brave you are and how in awe he is. He brings your linked hand to his mouth and places his lips on the back of your hand. 

“I think it might be time.” you whisper and his eye snaps up to you. “I’m scared.” you chew your lip and squeeze his hand as the pressure becomes consistent. 

“I’m right here with you. I’m not leaving your side.” he whispers, scooting closer. 

Soon the bed is surrounded with body’s and your legs are propped up. You have no care for how exposed you are as you continue to hold onto Aemond like a lifeline. Another wave of pressure takes your breath and you look up at Aemond with scrunched brows. The maester instructs you to begin pushing and your eyes close when you try the first push. 

Aemond watches your knuckles turn white as you tighten your grip on him. He’s softly brushing your hair back and accepts the damp cloth from your handmaiden to wipe at your brow. The maester continues to praise you for doing a good job and asks how you’re doing. 

“I’ll be better once I can meet my child.” you let out a breathy chuckle followed by a low groan. 

“Soon.” the maester pops his head up. “A couple more pushes.” he nods. 

You grit your teeth and give the next couple of pushes your all. You feel a loss of pressure and Aemond gasps next to you. You look down and see the maester holding your child. You shake your head as the tears fall. You outstretch your arms and he brings the babe to your arms as he starts to cry. 

“A boy.” the maester smiles. 

“Our boy.” you look up at Aemond who is already crying. 

“Our boy.” he looks at you and wraps his arms around yours as you both cradle the child. 

“Would you like to cut the cord, my Prince?” the maester soft voice pulls you both out of your bubble. 

“Can I?” he looks at the maester who nods. He crawls down the bed and the maester hands him a small knife. “Right here?” Aemond looks up at the maester. 

“Yes, right here.” he points. “Perfect. Might we clean the babe and look over him?” the midwives look at you. 

“Yes, thank you.” you offer them a tired smile. 

While one of the midwives cleans the babe another helps you through the afterbirth as Aemond lays back down next to you. They both help to wipe you off and change you into a clean night dress. Next you know your babe is being brought back to your arms wrapped in one of his blankets. 

“He looks very healthy.” the maester nods. “If you could try to feed him to make sure he latches and we can help you while we’re still here.” 

The babe takes to you with no issue. The midwives bring more towels and blankets for you. Aemond has been silently watching you and your son and whispering a thanks to everyone who brings you something. Slowly everyone trickles out of your chambers and the three of you are left alone. 

“We have a little son.” Aemond shakes his head, not particularly speaking to anyone. “Our boy.” 

“Would you like to name him?” you look up at him. 

“You want me to name him?” he shakes his head. 

“You can. Your family has such beautiful names. I'd like you to pick one.” you look down as your son leans back in your arms. You adjust your night dress and slowly smooth his wisps on white hair. “You are so very handsome.” you hum, tracing a finger around his face. 

“Aelor.” he nods, watching the both of you. 

“Our sweet little Aelor.” you coo, covering him with the blanket more. “We have a son.” you turn and look up at Aemond with a grin. 

“You were so very amazing today. So brave. You gave us our son. Our family.” Aemond whispers and you hear it in his voice before you see the tear fall. “I love you.” he leans over and presses his lips to yours.

“I love you.” you lean against him as he holds you closer.

“I would like to hold him.” you gasp at his words.

“My Gods Aemond, of course. I’m sorry.” you can’t believe you haven’t offered him his son yet.

“I don’t think I’ll want to let him go either.” he smiles as you rest Aelor into his arms.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

um i just love him and i think i almost cried like a million times while writing this 🤗 - im working on the next couple of chapters and im thinking we’ll do like time skips but years like 2yrs later 5yrs later etc bc i have so much cute shit planned once their babies are like ~sentient~ 

also maybe sorry for naming the child? idk they’re going to have more and i don’t want to just type “the eldest said” “the middle said” so yeah and there’s only so many targ names so if they’re basic? deal ✅

also i have no idea why i personally yapped so heavily on this post!! I just have so much to say about it!!

i see u as u are taglist: @readerselegance @sinistersnakey @thebirdandthebee

taglist ✍️

@ka1afbr @ninihrtss @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @alexxavicry @misspendragonsworld @papichulo120627 @ashovertheriver @gabriella-aesthetic @moonymoo1 @faenyra @uwuuness @lizzylovebooks280501 @nostalgiagoth03 @multilover19 @summer-and-sunflowers @eternalwinters @rere10 @sxlsvv @sarahrosw36q @tricksterreaper @somethingsaladsomething

[akkivee]

STREAM THE YOUNG GUN OF THE SUN LIVE PREVIEW ON YOUTUBE FOR A SHOT OF SEROTONIN AND VITAMIN D (ITS THE SUN)

[m0e-ru]

the gas station attendant social link alternate universe is about the past and the future. it is about accepting you who you were and who you are and who you'll be. accepting every aspect of yourself, intangible and tangible. that maybe you are fractured, broken, fragmented, empty, torn apart, or one thousand different things. but you are there for yourself, whoever that may be. whoever they may be. it is about love and betreyal and kindness and malice and caring and hate. deliberate or accidental. it is about learning and realizing and doing something about it and doing nothing about it. it is about the constant pursuit of knowledge no matter how fun it is no matter how terrifying it is. no matter if it's a genuine drive or something forced unto the self as one is pushed to the ledge. it is about life and death and what is real and what is not. it is about accepting what is there and making the effort to make it different. it is about stagnancy and improvement. it is about being the same and about change. it is about friendships about family about relationships about the inherent love present in all of it. it is about finding yourself in someone and the choice to help the other to help the self. to fill each other's half empty cups and overflow with gratitude or spill out and become an emptiness so unbearable that the irony of a rush of tears come flooding out somehow. it is about potential and the need to pursue it and find it and accomplish it and grow and grow and grow and learn and learn and learn and live and live and live no matter what anyone says. no matter what you say. it is about god. it is about human. it is about the bond with the one god once called its puppet but lives in the role itself no longer can be called an actor. because of love. because of love.

[petalsonmoon]

you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon.

"it's ridiculous." then he leaned his body foward, his fingers meeting his toes. an elongation you would take embarrasingly months to be able to do that flawlessly.

"and really fucking stupid" he proceeds his thoughts.

"oh please, do go on." you look down to your notes and continue to write your ridiculous ideas.

the sun was far too bright and where its glow met the leaves of the large number of trees around you they were gleaming, like they were immensely happy.

"i hope your little notebook accidently burns to ashes."

"kind of you to say accidently."

"yeah no problem at all"

you glance up to find that he has his knee bended to his chest and quickly look back to the pen in your hand. quite misteriously your hands are stained from it.

"you making the walking sleeping bag one too?" his voice is raspy and angry and very clear. how does he sound so good while doing post training stretching?

perhaps you're looking too much into it. your crush makes you a bit giddy, idiotic in a lot of senses. makes you feel a child just like the word itself is infant. crush.

you sigh heavyly.

"still deciding" you draw a little explosion on the corner of the page.

"might as well do it for class b too."

"if i got a penny for every dramatic sentence that came out of your mouth-"

he had his back to you but he insisted on turning his head to you to send you the most chilling glare for exactly 3 seconds. that's his stupidity. his eyes were already too pretty in your eyes for you to feel an ounce of that anger.

"-only today i'd have like," you scrunch your nose "the amount of money equivalent to the ferocity of all might's powers."

he doesn't bother to look at you again and you smile.

"would you look at that. i should look for the person with this quirk."

he growls. loud. and you're smile is genuine.

he sits up straight, his back to you and starts leisurely move his neck. that's the sign he's almost done.

"putting too much money for those idiots.”

"it's not that much" you reason. "don't feel that way for too long, you're getting one too."

with that, it's over.

he turns to you and when those red eyes meet yours the trees are for sure shinning somewhat brighter.

the response for your affirmation it's a furrow between his eyebrows. his skin glowing a bit but that's not your absurd heart speaking, it's just his sweat.

"uhum" now you're messing with the grass. it estabilizes you. "yours is actually the only one that i drew and painted myself. the other ones i made with suna from the support course"

an ant crawled into your point finger.

"but don't tell them that." you whisper.

the ant made it to your pulse when you feel a literal body falling on top of you.

"you motherfucker! you are drenched-"

"that shitty little brain of yours-" his face on your neck. his words and breathing warming your whole body. you are exploding on the inside. how ironic.

"-and your stupid handmade keychains for the whole class" and then he lighly bites where your neck meets your shoulder.

his hands trails your arms, his fingers are burning pathways in your skin until they meet your hands and they interlock with your fingers. then he finally lifts his head and looks at you and what you're feeling is something words can't understand.

"i was gonna wait until graduation."

"tomorrow, you mean."

he bites your chin and you're so fucking certain you'll melt any second now. "because of that fucking tone i'm going to burn all of your little gifts."

you smile at him trying to match his damn audacity. his charm? his mind blowing handsomeness? "i'll murder you."

you blink and feel his breath on your neck again. "do it now, cupcake." then. his maddening warm and soft lips leaves a kiss under your earlobe. you close your eyes. "you have the power to."

"don't wait until tomorrow."

he lifts his head again and there's a smirk with a softness in the corner of it on his face. "or?"

"i might die." you whisper. it is serious to you. you need his lips on yours this very second. with his eyes on yours, telling you every adoration you thought about him for the last couple of months before going to bed, you think might. actually. die.

"who's the dramatic one now, brat?"

[rememberwren]

A Girl (Not Mine) || 1

Ghost is a little obsessed with Soap and a lot obsessed with Soap's girlfriend--you.

About this: ghoap/fem!reader, suspension of disbelief regarding anything military related is actually necessary for enjoyment, canon-typical trauma for Simon, intrusive thoughts, slut shaming, voyeurism, fingering, accidentally seeing nudes not meant for you, poor writing unless you squint, try squinting. 4k

-

“I’m so glad I got a girl to think of, 

Even though she isn’t mine.”

-

The first time Johnny mentions you, the 141 is fresh from a month-long leave.

Ghost has a love-hate relationship with time spent off duty. He’d like to enjoy it—to do fuck all, to hike through Clayton Vale twice in a day if it suits him, to drink tea for every meal. But all leave does is remind him of the glaring emptiness in his life, the one he usually fills with violence. So he spent the month climbing up the walls and crawling out of his skin, waiting to be called back like a dog brought to heel. 

Here was his comeuppance for craving something to fucking do instead of relaxing the way Price had told him to do. Now they were on their way to San Lorenzo in Ecuador dealing with Ghost’s least favorite flavor of criminal: drug cartels. 

It’s too close to Mexico. Too close to that which he would forget gladly if it didn’t come with the loss of so many valuable skill sets. He’s crawling out of his skin for a whole new reason, watching the water fly by beneath them, deep in memories. 

Ghost takes all those feelings, fears, remembrances and swallows them whole. Lets them sink to a sour, dark place in his belly. He sits tense on the helo, still except for the rise and fall of his chest, his rifle a familiar weight across his knees. Sometimes he has to shut his eyes, swallowing against the rising nausea. 

He only has half an ear on Garrick and Johnny’s conversation beside him, but it is all he needs to follow along. 

“—lass of my own now,” Johnny is saying around a laugh, his accent thick enough to chafe at Ghost’s skin in a way he doesn’t want to examine, one that leaves him feeling raw but not necessarily hurt. “So no more picking up the barflies back in Hereford.”

“She making an honest man out of you, Tav?” 

“Aye, you could say that.” Johnny sounds proud of the fact. It all is so far from anything Simon has experienced in his life that he feels no distant stirring of empathy, not even a muted sense of familiarity in the words. Honest men do not exist. 

Not to mention, Simon’s never had a woman (willingly) and he never will. 

“You love her?” Garrick asks, earnestly interested to hear the answer. Ghost couldn’t care less.

“Aye. There’s something special about her.” 

“What, she’s cool with anal?”

Johnny crows with laughter, and now Ghost does feel something: annoyance, cloying, creeping up his spine like a spider in a web headed for the wiggling maggot of his brain. 

“Will you two ever shut up?” he snaps. “Not a moment’s fucking peace since we boarded.”

“Sorry LT,” Johnny says, sounding genuinely apologetic. Ghost cuts his eyes toward the other man, assessing for honesty. Johnny’s face is too expressive: brows lifted, eyes wide and earnest, mouth tipped into a tiny grimace, like the thought of irritating Ghost gives him real pain. Between the two of them, Ghost can’t help but think that it’s Johnny who needs a mask if he wants to survive in the world. 

Ghost doesn’t have the energy for this. He goes back to watching the scenery pass by. They are over trees now: thick lush jungle, the scent of which he associates with pain—plenty of which was his own. Plenty of which he caused to others. 

“What about you, LT?” Johnny asks, calling out over the sound of the helicopter blades. “Do you have a woman back home?”

Ghost lets his head turn, slow and dangerous. Johnny’s audacity never fails to surprise him. “What do you think, Johnny?”

“Honestly?” 

“Go on, then.”

“You look like if yeh’ve got a woman, she’s probably locked in yer basement.” 

(right where she’d belong.)

Garrick slaps Johnny’s thigh, his face mottled with panic. He hisses under his breath, something like, There are faster ways to die, Tav! Less painful ways, too, Ghost thinks. He fixes Johnny with a dead stare. The silence stretches, growing long and thin and dangerous, like the blade of a knife, until Johnny looks away. 

“Think less about my private life, Sergeant,” he warns him. 

“Not often you tell me to think less, LT.” 

Ghost just grunts, finished with the conversation, returning his unseeing eyes to the trees and slipping back into his own memories. 

-

That should be—well, not the end of it. He expects Johnny to become insufferable about it; that’s just the other man’s way. Still, Ghost had never expected to see you. 

He’s doing paperwork in the rec room, too stifled by the tiny, enclosed space of his office to remain there. Paperwork and debriefing are always his least favorite parts of an op. Give him a gun with which to kill and he will gladly kill; give him a pen with which to write and he spends half the time thinking about burying it in his own eye. Garrick and Johnny are there nearby fucking around on their phones having finished with their easy portion of the work ages ago. 

A phone is what Johnny thrusts beneath Ghost’s nose. It takes all of his mental fortitude not to flinch away from the unexpected action (or, more likely, not to rip Johnny’s arm off and beat him half to death with it). His eyes flicker down to the screen on instinct and—there you are. 

You have one eye squinted shut, your hand up to create a visor against the overbearing sun. The picture shows you from the bust upwards, and Simon sees it for approximately one full second before he grips Johnny’s wrist in a brutal hold and forces the hand and the phone away. 

It’s already too late. He’s committed you to memory. The way your hair sits, its color in the blistering sun. The curve of your lips (fuckable, he thinks against his will) as you give Johnny behind the camera an exasperated smile. The arch of your nose (images now—fingers pinching noses shut, forcing mouths further down his cock just to watch them choke and struggle)—

“Get that out of my face,” he grits out through his teeth. His thoughts won’t stop, not now that the floodgates have been opened, and it makes him feel like a dog backed into a corner, frightened-violence rising up in the back of his throat like bile. 

—the smooth line of your throat (and his hands around it, choking the light from your eyes just to fuck you when you’re soft and pliable and he doesn’t have to listen to you crying and begging)—shut UP!—

“It’s just my girl, sir,” Johnny laughs, his own eyes flickering back down to your image on the phone, like they are drawn to you. Like it is hard to look away. Ghost doesn’t have that problem—he has some  discipline left. “And it’s not as if she’s naked.” 

Ghost grips the pen in his hand so tightly that the plastic shell cracks. He’s barely keeping it together, sick and afraid and horrified and angry that Johnny has done this to him—has done this to his own girl—

His voice is rough when he croaks out: “What makes you think I care to see her, Sergeant?” 

“‘S it wrong to share the most important person in my life with the other most important people in my life?” Johnny says, eyes too guileless to be taken seriously. 

“Share less,” he snaps. 

“Been saying that to me an awful lot lately, sir.” 

“A good Sergeant would take my words to heart.” 

“A good lieutenant would know a futile lesson when it’s biting him in the arse.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow. “Careful, Johnny. As much as I hate paperwork, I’d write you up—gladly.” 

Johnny gapes. “What for?”

Ghost grins without mirth, mask stretching around his features. Even grinning cruelly like this, his face feels unused to any expression that is adjacent to happiness. He swears darkly: “I’ll find a reason.”

It would send anyone else running. Even Garrick looks fearful, though fascinated: the same look a man wears when he’s watching a car crash in progress. But if sense were dynamite, Johnny wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose. Instead, he just flops down on the couch close enough to flutter the pages in Ghost’s lap. Close enough for their knees to brush. 

“Jesus, you’re a tadger today,” Johnny says quietly, boot knocking against Ghost’s, a touch he feels all the way up his leg. “Shove off some of that paperwork on us. What’s the use of being a lieutenant if you can’t lord it over your sergeants?”

“I’m sorry, us?” Garrick asks. 

“I don’t shirk my responsibilities, Johnny,” Ghost says coldly, gathering his papers. His elbow brushes against Johnny’s ribs, the firm, burning warmth of the other man’s body. He jerks away. He’ll take the stifling seclusion of his office, that makeshift coffin, before he subjects himself to any more of this. “You’d do well to follow my example.”

-

Ghost resolutely does not think of you. Not during quiet lazy moments on base, not during the frustration of training recruits, especially not during the eerie calm of missions. You do not cross his mind. 

His dreams are another thing altogether. 

There are the dreams where he hurts and the dreams where he is hurting, and he doesn’t know which are worse. He only knows that they are made worse by your strange presence: your body bent and being broken in by others; you, bent and being broken in by him. He wakes in cold sweats, jaw aching from gritting his teeth in his sleep. 

He hates himself for this last place where he cannot execute control: his subconscious. 

-

“Mail?” Johnny asks cheerfully at the sight of Garrick seated on the bench outside the DFAC, a stack of papers and letters laying on his lap. 

Johnny is sweaty, gray t-shirt clinging to his toned body as he (for once) keeps a companionable silence at Ghost’s side. They have been training recruits all day—work which Ghost considers far beneath his pay grade, but which he can’t refuse when ops are so slow to arrive and when he is so eager (desperate) to keep busy. Ghost lets himself sit heavily on the bench a safe distance away from Garrick, sweat cooling on his own body. 

He’s not ready to be alone yet. 

He’s allowed to do that. To want company. Of all the people on base, Garrick and Johnny (and Price) might be the most tolerable of the lot of them. During the rare moments when the pitiful piece of humanity left inside him craves companionship, this is the least painful method to mainline it. 

He ignores the lack of letters for him. There is no mail for Ghost—there never is. 

Garrick passes Johnny no less than four envelopes. Johnny’s soft smile as he flips through them speaks volumes. Ghost can guess who they’re from: his mother likely, who writes as often as she can. One of his various sisters, surely. Take your pick.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Johnny flip through the letters and settle on one in particular, thicker than the others, tearing it open and tugging the letter out. 

The pictures slip from the folded piece of paper and fall to the ground. 

Johnny dives to grab them, but all it does is bring Garrick’s attention to them more. Even Ghost’s interest is piqued, his dark eyes giving up pretending to watch the recruits limp back to their barracks to shower before dinner and following Johnny’s hasty movements instead, watching the hot flush that crawls up the back of his Sergeant’s neck. 

“What are those?” Garrick asks. 

“No’ a thing.” 

Garrick lights up. He practically tosses his letter to the side. “She sent you pictures?” 

“Possibly,” Johnny says smuggly, the images—old fashioned Polaroids, a nice touch—pressed to his chest. His eyes narrow at the expression on Garrick’s face. “Don’t even think about it, Gaz—!”

Garrick pounces. The two begin grappling, both of their faces split into wide grins. Johnny can only defend himself with one arm, his other protectively clutching the photographs to his bosom. They take each other to the ground and Ghost watches, half interested and half irritated, wondering who will win. 

The pictures go flying—and fate’s invisible bitch of a hand causes them to land at Ghost’s feet. Garrick and Johnny freeze.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, the same way he knows that he’s going to. Ignoring their renewed struggles on the ground as they fight to untangle themselves and stand, he leans down and reaches for the photographs.

The white of the Polaroid’s edges contrast nicely with his dark gloves as he gathers the pictures together like a deck of scattered cards. 

“LT—“

They’re relatively tame. Perhaps you knew the high risk of sending them. In one you are kneeling on a bed amongst a sea of mussed, white sheets, wearing nothing but a t-shirt that you have tugged down between your parted thighs to offer yourself some modesty. It is painful to flip to the next one, but pain calls to Ghost, lures him in. In another you’re wearing some strappy lingerie but still covered artfully by the sheets, both hands covering your eyes, a grin on your face like you are mid laugh. Did Johnny take these photos of you himself? Did a stranger? A friend? Another shows your side profile, back arched, topless, every inch of you curved and poised. 

You’re (a filthy little slut) so fucking pretty. 

“Give ‘em back, LT, please,” Johnny asks gently, like he expects Ghost to tear them to shreds. Or confiscate them. 

Ghost drops the photographs to the bench, wishing he could scrub the images of you from his mind. He shouldn’t have picked them up in the first place. It’s adding fuel to the fire of his broken brain, and he knows that he will pay for it dearly. 

Johnny is talking. “—shy, she’d just die to know you saw.”

“She’ll only know if you tell her, Johnny,” Ghost reminds him. His mouth feels numb, his brain the quiet granted by white noise, a conglomerate of screams. 

Johnny frowns. “Suppose so. You alright?” 

“Since Ghost saw—“ 

“No, Gaz.” 

Ghost watches the two of them enter the building. 

His hand burns, where he has palmed the picture of you topless. He stands and slips the Polaroid into his back pocket. It’s on the tip of his tongue to call out for Johnny and give him the picture back—he could find some excuse, and Johnny would believe him, he knows it—but he doesn’t. He makes for his room, feeling sick with himself. He isn’t hungry. Not for food. 

-

Ghost is compromised. 

The thought replays in his mind over and over again as he drives to Price’s house in Solihull. You and Johnny have crawled beneath his skin and infected him, dug your way into his DNA and are affecting everything from his decision making capabilities to his dreams. He knows that going anywhere where you both will be is a mistake, but it’s one he can’t seem to help hurdling himself toward at high speed. 

Nothing will happen, he tells himself, knuckles white against the steering wheel. He only does what he allows himself to do—no more. The others will be there at least, Garrick and Price and Johnny himself. Physical barriers between him and you. Human meat shields, if necessary. Ghost wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on you. (But who would stop him if he tried? Who could?) You are safe, he tells himself. 

He is the last to arrive, dragging his feet up the concrete steps to the two story brick historical home that Price owns. He lets himself in the way that Price told him to and can tell by the eerie silence of the house that everyone is already outside enjoying the well-landscaped yard. Already he sees the evidence of you: a purse (go through it) laid neatly on the dining room table. He sets his keys beside it but does not touch it. 

Ghost doesn’t bother trying to delay the inevitable. Every part of him wants to run, but that’s all he’s ever wanted his whole life. He’s used to it by now, used to being forced to walk toward the thing which terrified him. He squares his shoulders and slides open the patio door, slipping back out into the muggy heat of the afternoon, face mask in place, hood up.  

The landscaping is one of the best features of Price’s house. The privacy fence is tall and appealing to Ghost’s seclusive nature, the lawn neatly clipped. There is a hedgerow running along the southern edge of the fence that is meticulously maintained. Flower beds lined with bricks rest along the house full of geraniums and phlox. The patio is smooth stone with an inlaid fire pit that would be crackling if the weather were any milder. An iron-wrought table sits nearby surrounded by chairs, and seated there are Garrick, Johnny, and Price. 

You are over by the flowers, kneeling in the soft grass, picking phlox just a few shades darker than the sundress you’re wearing, the one that skims your soft thighs. Ghost’s eyes roam over you and away all before your head even turns at the sound of the door opening. 

“LT,” Johnny calls, lighting up. “You made it!” 

“Didn’t think you’d show, Lieutenant,” Garrick says with a smile. 

“As if he’s got something better to be doing than spending time with us,” Johnny crows. 

“Jesus, will you two leave the man alone? Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already regretting coming,” Price says. Ghost inclines his head, grateful for the backup. 

He hears your approach, the soft sound of your flats against the patio stone. You are small (weak) compared to him, craning your head up to look in his eyes. He hates the dark part of his brain that calls you easy prey as he watches you twist the phlox stems between anxious fingers. 

“You must be Simon—” Johnny shakes his head a little, subtle, visible only out of the corner of Ghost’s eye. “—ah—Ghost? I mean—” 

“I don’t care what you call me,” he admits.

“Ghost,” you settle where it is nice and safe. “It’s nice to meet you. John talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise,” Ghost says flatly, hoping you will not mistake it for a compliment. 

Garrick snorts. “Never shuts up about you is more likely.”

There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, so you sit on Johnny’s lap, legs crossed demurely, skirt riding up around your upper thighs. He wonders about the softness of your skin, wonders if his calloused touch would hurt you or if you’re used to Johnny’s by now. He could make it hurt. The thought doesn’t come with any zing of pleasure, just the cold apathy of fact. Has Johnny ever tried that? Has he ever—

Ghost’s gloved hand clenches into a fist, curling around the iron armrest of the chair. He takes a measured breath and holds it until his lungs ache. Those thoughts aren’t his own. They come from the dark part that Roba seeded inside him, that part with creeping vines too deep to root out. That part with thorns. 

He could hurt you, the same way he could hurt anyone, he tells himself. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to. 

He does only what he allows himself to do. No more. No less. 

You and Johnny stand, heading into the house to retrieve a round of drinks for everyone. Ghost watches Johnny’s hand dip low on your back to the curve of your ass as he guides you through the open door, shutting it behind you. 

“Are you alright, Simon?” Price asks around a cigar. “I know meeting new people isn’t exactly in your repertoire.”

“Don’t mother me.”

“Don’t have to be your mother to care about you.”

“Garrick—get lost,” Ghost barks. 

The iron chair legs screech against the stone of the patio as Garrick stands hastily. “Had the same thought, sir. Hedges look lovely this time of year.”

When Garrick is properly out of earshot, pretending to find amusement in the neat hedgerows along the fence line, Ghost says: “I shouldn’t have come. I’m… I— can’t be left alone with her.” 

“With—? Soap’s gal?”

Ghost grits his teeth in shame and nods. 

“Do you know her?” 

Ghost shakes his head in the negative, but it’s not necessarily true. He knows a thousand women just like her, soft and unexpecting. The betrayal always cuts deeper than his cock could reach (estoy preso, somos lo mismo, por favor).

He stands, chair legs dragging against the stone. “This was a mistake. I need to leave.” 

“If you say so,” says Price, knowing better than to argue. “Go around the side. You won’t even have to see them.” 

“My keys are inside. I’ll be quick.” 

“Take care of yourself, Simon,” says Price, his eyes dark and lips downturned as he watches Ghost stalk to the patio door and slip inside. 

-

He braces himself to see you and Johnny in the kitchen, but when the door slides open near-silent, neither of you are anywhere to be seen. Like a fool, he considers himself lucky. Quiet as his namesake, Ghost goes to the table and picks up his keys, palming them. 

That’s when he hears it. The unmistakable muted slap of flesh on flesh. 

(Go look.)

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but that is his modus operandi these days: failing himself, doing what he isn’t meant to, seeing what is not for his eyes. His feet carry him silently to the door, which is cracked open just wide enough for him to see through into the room. It is a guest bedroom judging by the bland decor, the queen sized bed. Johnny has you sprawled on it, your sundress hitched up around your waist, his fingers buried to the final knuckle inside your cunt. Ghost can hear the way it squelches from all the way outside the door, knows that you must be dripping down Johnny’s wrist. 

“Keep quiet, love,” Johnny pants, one hand over your mouth (he’s not doing it right) to muffle the whines and groans trying to slip past your lips. “Needy little thing, aren’t yeh? Squirming in my lap, making my cock hard right there in front of my Captain, in front of my Lieutenant—“

You whine something back, but it is lost into his palm. 

“Don’t have time to get my cock in you,” Johnny sighs, twisting his fingers inside you, hooking them to press against that tender spot past your pubic bone that has your knees knocking together. He shifts his palm down to grip your neck, your panting breaths filling the room. “But you can bet this dress is coming off as soon as we’re home, do y’hear me?”

“Yessir,” you whisper, and it has Ghost’s cock throbbing. 

This is not for him. He thinks about Johnny’s words from months ago: that you are shy. There’s no chance you would ever want to be seen like this by him. Reaching out, he grips the doorknob and quietly tugs the door closed, til the sound of Johnny’s palm slapping against your clit is muffled behind the wood. 

He takes his keys and is gone before you ever know he was there. 

-

Johnny texts him later that night: 

Why’d you leave early, you numpty? We wanted more time with you. 

Ghost doesn’t respond. He’s too busy spiraling in his own flat, losing control every few minutes and slipping back into that place of pain and blood and dirt. 

An hour later, Johnny ends up adding, My girl wants me to say she was glad she got to meet you. Only Jesus knows why! Ghost definitely doesn’t respond to that. But he doesn’t delete the messages either.

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[izvmimi]

cw: breakup mention. alcohol use. hurt/comfort.

When Katsuki shows up to the exact location you provided him, just minutes after you’d called him out of the blue at 3 am, not even the excuse of being under the influence available to you given the three pathetic sips you’ve had of the can of beer in your right hand, you realize you hadn’t exactly thought this far.

You hadn’t expected him to pick up, and you hadn’t intended on leaving a message. Not from a number he couldn’t possibly know given you’d changed it about two years ago, and definitely not from you, not after the way you’d severed ties with him abruptly and mercilessly. 

In his opinion.

… Okay, perhaps yours, too.

You had expected the half-groggy, half-livid way he’d answered, the hothead in him not immune to a call that would annoy literally anyone with a modicum of sense, but you hadn’t expected his voice to so immediately soften at the sound of yours, to recognize you so readily even.

And now watching him touch down from the sky to where you sit on a park bench, just several feet away from a 24 hour convenience store, you realize you’re not sure what to say.

Still, you’re happy to see him. Enough so, that for a moment, you blink back tears in your eyes, precluding you from seeing how uncharacteristically gentle his red ones are. 

He tries to play it cool, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark gray sweatpants, a slight hunch in his back accentuated by the snug fit of a black hoodie. A skull insignia covers the front, and you wonder if he’ll ever grow up. 

That was one of your points of contention when you were once an item. Growing up. 

“Hey.”

Katsuki is careful; reticent in his speech as he moves towards you, and you can see him ponder before he takes a seat by your side. You clutch the can of beer in your hand a little tighter, resting your arm upon the knees you’ve folded and raised onto the seat of the park bench. His posture is still closed, hands in his pockets, and he stares straight ahead. He lets out a sigh.

“Why’d you call? Get dumped or something?”

You scoff as you say, “yes.”

Katsuki did not actually expect you to say that and turns to look at you, which has you amused, if only for a second. You’re not drunk, but you sure are acting it, you think, but perhaps madness from your bout of depression is really settling in.

“Months ago, though,” you add. You take another sip of your beer, and he watches you wince. He knows you’re not actually a fan of it at all, and plus there’s nothing intelligent or safe about drinking in the middle of the night without a companion, without a definite way home. 

He remembers he actually doesn't know where your home is these days.

“Why did you need to see me?” he asks firmly now, his eyes still focused on the can because he’s afraid of looking at your face and letting old love resurface.

You smile and look at him, resting your head on your knees.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” you admit.

“You called.”

In another world, he’d then roll his eyes at you, but tonight he looks at you steadily and seriously. Perhaps he's the one who has matured, and you haven’t. He remains your longtime crush and your longtime crutch, even now, as you feel yourself lose your grip on sanity, embracing madness, regardless of how transient it might be.

It’s quiet for a few more moments, save for the rustling of leaves as the winds of the witching hour pick up between you, and you let out a soft sigh, realizing he won’t say anything else to fill the silence. Letting your feet fall flat to the ground, you shrug.

“I couldn’t sleep and I thought of you,” you admit. 

Katsuki’s eyes slide away from you quickly, his fingers curling around the edge of the seat at his sides, as if bracing himself.

“It’s been years,” he reminds you. You nod, without looking at him.

“My heart remembers.”

It’s cheesy and he doesn’t mock you for it. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest.

“I see.”

You’re suddenly embarrassed, face warmed from toes to nose. He sees. What does he see? That you’re pathetic? That you’re needy? That perhaps you were wrong all these years and even if he’s flown back to see you, you’re the one crawling back to him? 

You remain in disquiet now, your arms wrapping around yourself for support. You can hear it now -  If you wanted someone to pat your ass, should have called damn Deku or Kirishima. I’m not a goddamn booty call. You lost your chance with me ages ago. Don’t fucking call me again.

Instead, he takes the can of beer you’ve set beside you and takes a sip first, then downs it as you watch. Just as soon as he’s done, he crushes the can and throws it into the nearest recycling bin. 

He doesn't miss.

“You’re not an alcoholic. No use pretending to drown your sorrows,” he says. “Either talk about them or don’t. I’m already up anyway.”

It’s not meant to be a joke or a jab, just a statement. 

You’re surprised for a moment but an unwitting smile comes to your lips.

“Are you sure you want to hear me complain in the middle of the night? I have a lot to say.”

Katsuki gives you a look, a raised eyebrow reminding you not to ask any more silly questions, and it almost makes you laugh.

As if you intend to be considerate now of all times.

“Well, it all began with the day I was born…”

He lets out the softest of groans and lets his head hang back in a dramatic fashion, arms still crossed over his chest, and legs spread. This time your laugh is loud.

It’s unfair and unreasonable that he still makes you laugh without trying.

And yet he does anyway, and he listens to you speak until the sun comes up.

[i-2hoon]

can u write hc's for sub!enha and their first time w their bf :00

no need to ask me twice ugh i love this

enhypen & their first times

pairings ᱖ sub/switch!enha x dom/switch!male!reader

warnings ᱖ explicit content, established and implied relationships, subtle sub/dom dynamics, conversations of virginity, underlying corruption kinks, sub!enha, dom!reader, subtop!heeseung + jay + jake, subbot!sunghoon + sunoo + jungwon

important notes ᱖ hi!! thank you so much for suggesting and i love this so much! you never specified top/bottom, so i did follow my personal preference. the oldest three are sub!tops, and the youngest three are sub!bottoms, however they are all still subs, i hope its not an issue!

heeseung 박희승 : patient

heeseung, compared to other members, may need a bit more time to be ready for anything sexual beyond making out and greedy touches. needless to say, you two will be taking it slowly and patiently. he has trouble relaxing and relinquishing any control to you, but with the way your fingers scrape against his scalp and the tone of your voice when you whisper in his ear.. ah, even if he wasnt ready, something switched in his mind. he wouldnt be one to lean back and let it happen; you would speak him through it all for him to be comfortable. this includes whispering sweet praises and reassurances as your fingers wrap around his cock, and interlocking your fingers with his when you move your lips to bite at the pale skin of his neck. just know that the moment youre actually on him he might fall into some sort of.. daze, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he let you do all the work. you would have to be slow as to not overwhelm him or make him overthink, but itll be beyond heavenly for the both of you.

jay 박정성 : intimate

see, for him, jay never exactly wishes to be out of control. but theres something about you—his beautiful boyfriend—that allows him to give in. running your hands down his chiseled chest and nipping at his ear, it seems like majority of the night would be calculated foreplay. youd trace a line up his jaw and fuck would he have a hard time keeping his hands off you. simply send him that one glare, however, and hed put his hands behind his back if he had to. its your eyes that make him melt like that. hes never seen you like this before and that in itself was a turn on. when you ride him for the first time with a hand around his throat and lips against his (well, barely. your minds are too fogged you think you may be missing his lips when youre kissing), he thinks that theres nothing better in this world but to be like this with you.

jake 시재윤 : need

have you ever seen a man genuinely so eager to get you off that he forgets about his own raging hard on? ah right, thats jake. the second your makeout session morphed into something more, this man was putty in your hands. grinding on his thigh with your hands tangled in his hair.. well its certainly far from a romantic first encounter with sex, but the desperate whines and curses slipping from jakes lips are enough to make it worth it. you seriously could mold this man into whatever you wanted with your hands. when you told him to suck you off? he was on his knees before you could even finish the second. due to all the pent up frustration in him after a few months of not having any sort of sex, just know that hed come untouched in his pants just from blowing you.. and hed have zero shame about it.

sunghoon 박성훈 : lust

while a lot of people assume that sunoo would be the most of a brat or tease, i disagree. sunghoon is the definition of bratty when it comes to these situations, and youd only just get a taste of how he can be when it is your first time. it was like there was zero warning for how he would be, but part of you isnt complaining. how pretty he looks against the sheets, giving you that smirk and lidded gaze as you have two fingers knuckle deep in him. maybe you partially wanted to give up and give into him, but the way he taunted you with his words and his body was far too great of a reward to give up. overall, itd feel more like a game than anything; a back and forth until you snapped and pressed his face into the sheets. who said anything about first times being gentle? you probably only did it because he pushed your sanity just a bit too far this time.

sunoo 김선우 : playful

really, it started as a cute make out session. no more than pressing teasing kisses to each others lips and jokingly tugging at waistbands. so how did you end up here, with sunoo on his knees in between your legs? well, regardless of how, just know that itd all be lighthearted and playful. teasing insults, gentle bites, and maybe a bit of humiliation. it was more casual than you were expecting for your first time, but you werent complaining. the way he giggled when you bit his thighs was enough to ease any of your nerves and insecurities, truly. no need to even begin to speak about the way he looked at you and spoke meaningless insults to motivate you; some comments along the lines of "well? if you havent messed up my makeup already, you really arent that good."

jungwon 양정원 : affection

on the contrary, your first time with jungwon would be quiet and intimate. the only words that would leave your lips would be 'i love you''s and sweet nothings filled with praise. despite taking it slow, it was truly nothing but love and trust. he trusted you with his body, shivering at the way your cold hands felt against his bare waist. and you? you trusted him with your ego here, but that would be a topic for another time. gentle kisses against his chest that trail down to his hips and his feet resting on your shoulders—you were never a religious man, but you swore that this was heaven itself.

[bunnyinvanilla]

Sugar daddy!price x fem!reader (bar owner series)

| 💌 warnings: sugar daddy-sugar baby relationship, suggestive, age gap!! (price is in his 40s & reader is 21), minors dni pretty please, I like to play around tension, I find it to be way more entertaining and actually attractive to read about.. (sort of part II of the previous blurb🧁)

”you better start getting used to coming here often, doll” the words coming from him sounded gruff and rough with his lips pressed hardly against your own, his mouth almost devouring your every breath, parted only slightly enough to let his voice brush against your face. “can’t have my little girl stay all alone in a tiny apartment too far away from her old man, mmh?”

you were already panting, your chest raising and falling with every feeble breath — poor thing, you were only kissing and you were already red and melting like ice cream.

price didn’t let you answer him before diving right back into your mouth, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. The kiss was steady and precise, not too fast but hard and rough, enough to have your dainty hands grip his collar. Where he didn’t exceed in speed, he did in strength.

you whimpered against him, lifting up your head to try and reach better, your motion causing a deep, rumbling purr to vibrate from his chest. You felt his tongue push deeper against yours, ravishing your mouth like he hadn’t seen you in month and had just come back home from deployment, when in reality you’d just gotten back from a restaurant.

he still tasted like whatever rich type of vine he’d been drinking, and you tasted like that strawberry tiramisu that he’d insisted you order after seeing you blinking at the image on the menu for more than a millisecond.

he ended up ordering it for you, of course.

his mustache tickled your blushing skin, the dark, slightly graying flecks brushing against your skin and making you giggle timidly in between the kisses “wait, wait, sir, that tickles-“

you could feel him grin against your lips, oh how he couldn’t wait to train you into the most perfect girl, you were already a good girl, innocent and sweet, submissiveness dripped from you like honey and he was eager to feast on that nectar.

“sit down,” it sounded like a field order, he’d been so accustomed to the military leadership, that every word and action of his was naturally tinted by evident authority, dominance and control.

you plopped down on the couch in front of him, as quickly as the order had been spoken. Something glinted behind his eyes, he was satisfied with your effortless obedience.

“good girl,” you felt that familiar tingle burn down in your belly at the praise, you’d do anything to hear those words from him, to be called goor girl — his, good girl. You wanted, yearned to earn his praise.

“seems like my little girl has a thing for praise, doesn’t she?” he lifted his thumb and forefinger to gently grasp your chin, pulling it upwards to meet every battle of your doe eyes.

the grip was fierce enough, exuding dominance with every thoughtless gesture, and you were already a squirming mess. You mumbled a shy affermative sound, but he tightened the grip on your chin, giving you a look of expectation.

“I know you’re shy, sweet girl, but you need to answer when daddy asks you a question” his voice had gotten deeper, a rough and lethal edge to it like the back of a knife.

the back of his fingers pushed underneath your jaw, forcing you to look up at him — you wanted to tilt your head and snuggle against his palm, but he accentuated his order with a squeeze of your chin that almost made you whine, “use your words”

your cheeks grew warmer, redness spreading all over them as you blushed and pressed your knees together. It was all too new for you, torn between shyness and the evident need to obey his every request and order, you stammered out some swift words “yes, yes daddy, I do”

he gave you a lazy, satisfied grin “good girl” he released the grip on your chin, and tucked a loose string of long hair behind your ear “know you do, y’get all red and shy when i praise you an give you compliments, bloody hell, y’re the sweetest fucking girl alive”

oh his voice was your weakness — the deepest, lowest and sultriest tone you’d ever heard, roughened by desire.

“thank you, sir” you murmured politely, fighting back a shy smile that had started to form on your lips at his words.

“you said you know how this arrangement works, haven’t you?”

you tilted your head with a shrug of your shoulders, curiosity and doubt written all over your dollish features “well, yes, I've only read about it in some of my books, but…”

at your words, his eyes grew more affectionate, you were adorable to him. He almost felt bad for wanting to ravish a pretty innocent angel like you. But he was going to pamper you like the most delicate flower afterwards.

“alright, angel, no rush. I’ve got scars older than you, princess, so,” the sound of his hands rustling with the buckle of his belt caught your attention, your eyes falling on his large hand that promised to unlock a whole new dimension to you. “lets start with sumthin’ easy for this lil’ dove. On your back, come on.”

[disappearintothegrey]

If you're still taking requests 🙂 I like how you write smut especially in the recent chapter of your series. Thank you for including squirting. I wish more writers would since it's totally normal and hot. So, my request is Noah x Reader who've been dating a while but during their first time being intimate together they find out she can squirt. She didn't know she could so she's embarrassed but he loves it and wants to make her do it every time they're together.

ask and you shall receive my friend. changed it up just a teensy bit. if you want a request, send it in!

COME UNDONE // NOAH SEBASTIAN

warnings - p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting, first time, language, explicit sexual content, protected sex, virgin!reader

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

You and Noah had been together for almost 8 months, and you were falling more in love with him everyday. What blossomed from a friendship over anime became this newfound relationship, and you could not be happier with it. Noah was everything you ever wanted in a partner, he treated you like you held his entire world in your hands, and always wanted you to feel special.

But you wanted more. Noah was patient with you, always stopping the heated make out sessions before they got too far, and always made sure you were comfortable with whatever was going on. He never made you feel like you were a bother, and never made you feel like you were “blueballing him” (or so that’s what your friends say).

It’s not like you didn’t want to go farther. You wanted to feel his touch everywhere, you wanted the make out sessions to go further. You wanted him to do more than grab your ass and kiss down your neck. But you were scared shitless of the fact that you were still a virgin, and you had no idea what you were doing. And you were afraid he wouldn’t like that and would leave you for someone more experienced.

You’ve been thinking about this for days now, contemplating how to go about it by the time he arrived at your apartment for the weekend. Friday rolled around faster than you expected, and suddenly all the nerves you felt were bubbling out of your head. And he noticed, too. He noticed during movie night that you seemed far away, not really paying attention to the cheesy horror flick he had chosen.

“You okay?” He whispers, his fingertips stroking the side of your arm.

Startled, you glance over at him, smiling nervously, “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking. What did I miss?” You asked, and he laughed before turning down the TV volume.

“Have you been paying attention at all?” He asks inquisitively, “You love this movie,”

You sigh, resting your cheek on your knees that were against your chest, “Actually, I need to talk to you about something,” You start, and you see the flash of concerned nervousness take over Noah’s pretty face.

“What’s going on?” He asks, turning to face you fully on your small couch, his eyes searching your face for clues. He remains quiet while he watches you think, grabbing your hand for extra comfort.

“There’s something I want to try, and I need you to hear me out,” You start, not meeting his eyes, glancing at your intertwined hands, “I haven’t been completely honest with you,”

He cocks his head curiously, his eyes sparkling with confusion, “What do you mean?”

“Well…you know that I’m not very experienced with sex,” You start, taking a shaky breath, your eyes meeting his. He gives you a nod, urging you to go on, “I never told you it’s because I’m a virgin,” You blurt, and he blinks in surprise.

He’s quiet for a moment, and you’re desperately searching his face for some type of reaction. But he remains nonchalant, simply nodding, “Okay,”

You literally feel your jaw drop in surprise, “Okay? That’s it?” You ask

Noah snorts, “What were you expecting?”

You sigh, “For you to leave,”

This time, he’s the one staring at you with an open mouth, “Leave you? Over that? No, absolutely not,” He replies quickly, shaking his head in agreement with his statement.

You feel tears burning your eyes, and your cheeks are turning red with embarrassment. Noah notices, giving you a small smile and pulling you to his chest. You crawl into his lap, moving to straddle him as you stare down at him, “Noah?” You ask.

“Hmm?” He hums, head leaned back against your living room wall as he looks at you.

“I want you to be my first,” You admit, and his head snaps up in shock. His hands wrap tighter around your waist, your fingers playing with his hair that was falling out of his loose bun.

“Are you sure, baby?” He asks quietly, and you swear you can see his eyes darken.

You nod, sheepishly looking down at his face, your left hand cupping his cheek, “I’ve wanted this for a while, and I’m ready for you to take me,”

You feel his right hand creep up your back, tangling in the hair at the base of your neck. He glances over your features again, searching for any kind of insincerity, before you say fuck it internally and press your lips to his. Noah gasps in surprise, his hand gripping your neck as he holds you close, and you take the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth, his warmth enveloping you.

Your tongues dance for a few moments, his left hand cupping your ass as he brings you closer, your hands splayed out against his hardened chest. Your lips break, his mouth trailing kisses along your throat, suckling the soft skin of your neck between his lips. You can’t help the small sigh that escapes you, and you can feel his lips turn upwards into a smile against your heated skin.

“Let’s move this into your room,” He whispers, pulling away from you, only to scoop you up bridal style and carry you to your bedroom.

You let out a giggle when he lays you on your bed, hovering over you as he peppers your face with kisses. Noah crawls on top of you, settling himself between your parted thighs, connecting your lips once more. His fingertips trail down your side, touching the edge of your t-shirt, giving it a gentle tug as a hint.

“Take it off,” You whisper against his lips, and within seconds he has the garment over your head and on the floor.

“Fuck,” He groans, noticing you weren’t wearing a bra, your small breasts on display for him. You feel nervous, going to cover them up with your arms before he stops you, his eyes flickering to yours in defiance, “You are so beautiful, angel. God, perfect for me,” He whispers, and you can feel yourself dampen down below at his words. His voice is thick with lust, his desire clear in his voice.

He kisses along the column of your throat, moving past your collarbones, his lips finding your right nipple, suckling it right into his mouth. You gasp out in surprise, your back arching into the touch as your fingers tangle in his hair. He’s gentle, his tongue circling the perked muscle, his teeth grazing the tip, and you are weak in the knees by this point. His left hand cups your other breast, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm and teasing the nipple with his fingertips.

“Noah, oh my god,” You moan, your heart racing in your chest at the pleasure coursing through your body. Your core is aching, and you can feel the wet patch forming on your panties. Keening into his touch, you rock your hips against his pelvis, feeling his erection underneath his sweatpants. You gasp at the feeling, and he groans, rolling his hips back against yours, “Fuck!” You cry out

Noah pulled away from your breasts, capturing your lips in another kiss. But this one was different, it was heated. His tongue was intertwining with yours, teeth knocking into each others as his hand cups underneath your jaw, rutting into your hips with his.

“Noah, please,” You beg, gripping at the bottom of his shirt. He sits up, pulling the shirt off his body and tossing it aside. Your eyes rack over his tattooed chest, the artwork glistening under a thin sheen of sweat. Your fingertips touch his chest, the muscles flexing under your touch.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks again, his pupils blown with pleasure, “We can stop at any time, you just say the word,” He reminds you, tracing circles on your bare hip.

You nod, and he tuts, “I need words,”

“Yes, Noah. I want you,” You reply, and he goes to untie your pajama bottoms, gently pulling them down your tan thighs. He leaves your panties on, his hands running over your thighs as he hops off the bed, discarding his own sweats.

He stares at you from the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in every curve and every inch of your body. Your knees are pressed together, only thin black panties covering your core. You stare back at him with equal desire, your eyes looking him up and down, irises settled on the tent in his boxers.

You reach out for him, and he crawls back up your body, sitting up in front of your bent knees. His palms rest on your knees, “May I?” He asks, and you nod.

With a gentle push, your legs fall open, caging around him as his eyes meet your clothed core. He can see the wet spot, smirking, “Look at that, all for me,”

You moan at that, and his eyes flicker to yours, pure desire overtaking his entire body, “Take them off,” You moan, “Need you,”

It’s all it takes before those black panties are slid down your thighs, you kicking them off and feeling the cold air hit your wet core. Noah licks his lips, staring hungrily down at you. He grabs your right leg, kissing along your calf muscle, down your thigh, moving himself onto his stomach. He’s face to face with your core, pressing small kisses to your inner thighs and using his nails to scratch along your skin, making you shiver in pleasure.

“I’ve gotta taste you,” He groans, his eyes meeting yours for permission.

“Fuck, yes, please,” You moan, spreading your thighs farther apart in anticipation.

Noah’s gentle, pressing a kiss to your clit, eliciting a gasp from your lips. You feel his tongue slide along your folds, diving in with the tip. You cry out at the feeling, gripping the bedsheets in your hands as he continues to lick up your core, using his fingers to spread your folds and dive in deeper. You can’t help but let out of a scream when he captures your clit in his lips, sucking the muscle into his mouth. The hands gripping the bedsheets find his hair, and you feel him smile against you.

“Taste so good, baby,” He moans, picking up a faster rhythm with his tongue along your clit, making you see stars, “Can’t get enough of you,”

You are a mess of moans, his tongue abusing your clit as you feel a finger teasing your entrance, his index pressing in slowly as he sucks your clit back into his mouth.

“Fuck!” You scream at the intrusion, his finger curling inside you and slowly fucking into you, “Holy shit,”

He finds a rhythm, his finger timed with his tongue as he warms you up, slipping another finger in and using the scissoring motion to stretch you out. You can feel tears prick at your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure, a warmth in your belly developing. Your hips involuntarily start grinding against his face, which he greedily takes advantage of, thrashing his face side to side like a starved man.

Suddenly, that warm feeling in your stomach started feeling like you were going to piss yourself, and you back away in fear, “Noah,”

Noah knows, he can feel your walls clenching around his fingers and the way your clit is throbbing along his tongue, “It’s okay, let it go,” He soothes, his fingers curling upwards in a “come hither,” motion as he sucks your clit back into his mouth, eliciting a stream of moans from you.

The warm feeling in your stomach snaps, the overwhelming feeling of euphoria taking over your body as you scream out his name, gripping his hair, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you give him as he lets you ride it out. Your thighs are shaking, pussy throbbing against his ministrations, and he pulls away from you with a final kiss to your thigh, getting back up to his knees and kissing up your nude body.

His lips find yours, pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting yourself all over his tongue. Your fingers trail down his body, stopping at his boxers, slipping your hand inside and gripping his length. He groans against your lips, head falling against your shoulder as you try to pump him, your hands clumsily moving up and down his cock.

“Doing so good for me baby,” He moans into your ear, hips rocking into your fist.

“I suck at this,” You whine, feeling useless

“You’re doing just fine, honey. I have all the time in the world to teach you. But today isn’t about me, it’s about you,” He replies, gently pulling your hand out of his boxers as he gets to his feet, heading to his bag, where he pulls out a condom, “Always gotta be prepared,”

You laugh at that, grateful he at least remembered protection. He tosses the condom on the bed, pulling his boxers off his body, his cock hitting his stomach with a wet slap. You gasp, staring at his length and starting to panic inside. Because there’s no way that is fitting inside you.

“You’re okay,” He soothes, noticing your fear as he joins you on the bed, settled between your legs, “We can stop now, it’s okay,” He offers, but you shake your head.

“No, I want this. I just don’t think you’ll fit,” You admit, and he laughs again.

“Oh, it’ll fit, baby. Because you were made for me,” He kisses you softly, pouring all his love for you into the kiss, and you feel yourself melting.

He continues kissing you as he grabs the condom, opening it up and sliding it on himself. You start to shake underneath him, and he pulls away, looking into your eyes as the head of his cock teases your entrance.

“Say the word,” He tells you, allowing you to make this move on your own time. He has no problem waiting forever, just as long as he has you in his arms.

With a deep breath, you nod, pulling him into another kiss. He slowly pushes in, his head moving past the thick ring of muscles. Your head falls back at the stretch, sharp pains shooting along your pelvis as he pushes in. Your nails dig into his biceps, squeezing him as you cry out in pain.

Noah pauses immediately, stopping his movements as he peppers your face with kisses, “It’s okay, you’re doing so good for me. It’ll be okay, tell me when,” He soothes, repeating himself to make sure you knew.

“Keep going,” You whimper, his hips slowly moving forward again. You whimper through the stretch, the pain shooting through your veins, hands gripping his arms as he kisses your neck, trying to distract you.

It worked, because suddenly his hips were touching yours and he was completely inside you. The stretch was insane, your body felt like it could split in two around his cock. You breathe hard through your nose, tears slipping out of your eyes. He stills, watching your face as you adjust, the pain fading away.

“Move,” You whisper into his shoulder, legs caging around his waist, “Please,”

Noah obliges wordlessly, pulling out before snapping back inside, making you loudly moan. The pleasure from the stretch you felt was mindblowing. He sets a slow, rocking rhythm, tiny groans leaving his lips into your ear as he fucks into you. Your hips rock back against him, moans filling the room as he speeds up, skin slapping skin vibrating in the room.

“Fuck fuckfuck fuck,” You moan, your back arched as he changed his angle, the tip of his cock nailing your g-spot with every thrust, “Noah!” You cry out, your left hand gripping your headboard while the other is holding onto his arm.

“Feel so fucking good, feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” He grunts, the muscles of his stomach contracting with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass, “You were fucking made for me,”

You are a moaning mess, coming completely undone underneath him as he relentlessly pounds into you. That familiar warmth is back in your stomach, and you can feel tears streaming down your face, “Noah, gonna,” You cried, your walls clenching around him, a loud growl filling the room from his chest.

“Fuck, come for me, baby. Fucking cum on this cock,” Noah demands, his paced quickening up as he grabs your legs, pressing them against your chest and using his legs as leverage to pound into your harder.

The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock abusing your cervix as he thrusts into you. You felt like you were floating, stars forming in your eyes as that feeling in your gut snapped, screaming out his name in a stream of curses. You didn’t notice his cry of surprise, nor did you notice the fact that your orgasm caused you to squirt all over him, the sounds of wet skin filling the room.

“Holy shit, that was so fucking hot, fuck,” He groans, using his hand to circle your clit, more of your orgasm spewing out against his hips, “Fuck yeah give me it,”

You were sobbing at this point, your body overstimulated by pleasure, and the feeling of his cock abusing your spongey skin was too much. You could feel that exact same feeling already forming, and you cried out in agony, “Fuck! Noah! You’re gonna make me—“

Noah growls, deep from his chest as if he was performing Dethrone at the end of the set. He’s chasing his own release, turned on by your moans and the fact that you squirted all over his cock. He’s never had someone do that before, and he is in utter bliss.

“Whose pussy is this?” He demands, using a hand to circle your throbbing clit in tune with his thrusts.

“Yours! Fuck! Noah! I’m yours!” You scream, and it’s all it takes before you cum again, warmth filling your body as he finishes inside the condom. He rides out his orgasm as you release all over him, his lower half soaked as well as the bedsheets underneath you.

Noah slows down his thrusts, dropping to his elbows to kiss you passionately, releasing your thighs from your chest. You thread your fingers in his hair, the long locks cascading over your face as you two kiss. His thrusts come to a stop, softening inside you, and that’s when you feel it.

The dampness underneath you.

“Noah…” You whisper fearfully, and he pulls away to look at you in concern.

“Baby?”

“Did…did I pee myself?” You ask, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you finally look at him, gasping at the wetness all over his hips.

Noah blinks, before remembering, chuckling, “Oh honey, no, you didn’t. When you came that second and third time, you squirted,” He explains, and you feel mortified.

YOU WHAT?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You apologize, going to move away from him, “I’m so sorry,”

He tuts at you, grabbing ahold of your arms, holding you in place, “Stop it. You have nothing to apologize for, you did nothing wrong,” He reprimands, eyes sternly looking into yours, “Plus, it was hot as fuck,” He jokes, and you groan in response, slapping his chest.

The room fills with silence, Noah kissing along your neck, pulling out of you slowly. You wince in pain, and he tosses the condom aside in the trash can, wrapping you in his arms. You lay there with him, curled up along his chest, his fingers running up and down your back.

“Thank you,” You whisper after a while, moving to look up at him.

He just smiles at you, kissing your forehead, “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

You smile back, kissing his lips softly, “I love you,”

“I love you,” He replies, before smirking devilishly at you, “I’m so making you squirt again, by the way,”

You groan, but laugh at him, “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” And you knew then, that this would become a hellbent challenge for Noah. He would make it his personal mission to make you come undone like this every time he fucked you.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

~ the end ~

hope you enjoyed and it held up to your standards 🖤 thank you for reading!! will be cross-posting to ao3 and wattpad tomorrow.

send in any requests and i’ll do my best to make it happen!

[chelseeebe]

still into you, part 2

eddie’s back, keeping to his word while trying to make up for his past mistakes. will it all work out when your worlds collide?

sauurrr i feel like i want to do a part 3 bc i have ideas but i’m not sure !!??!! also i just wanna say that it’s felt sooo good seeing people in my notifications again, tumblr finally unshadowed me after emailing them god knows how many times !!

18+, mdni. smut. a lil bit of angst and mean words towards reader and mentions of pregnancy. no use y/n!

read part 1 here.

‎♡‧₊˚

he’s late.

you’d spoken on the phone this morning and eddie had told you he’d be back some time tonight and that you should wait up because it’ll be worth it.

and now he’s fucking late.

late or not even coming.

it had been a long month of phone calls and anxiously reading magazine articles about his whereabouts, learning to trust again hadn’t been easy. there had been a handful of times where he’d called too late and missed you or you’d called while he was out which meant you’d gone days without speaking.

steve had done his best to reassure you that it was just different out there and you shouldn’t worry. he’d made a promise, right?

but there’s a pressure in your chest now, a feeling you hadn’t felt since the first time he left. defeated and dejected once again.

eddie is so late that you fall asleep on the couch. the same couch you first kissed him on just a few weeks ago. your dreams are filled with images of eddie, the wide smile that graced his face when ella forced him into fairy wings or the look on his face when you’d roll over in the middle of the night and kissed the corner of his mouth.

you’re awoken by a soft palm cupping your cheek, eyes peeking open to see the familiar silhouette of curls and denim now illuminated by the flickering television, deep set frown on his lips.

“i’m so sorry,” he starts, the words sound like static in your barely conscious mind, “my plane was delayed and i couldn’t call you.. i’m so fucking sorry,” you realise he’s on his knees in front of the couch, still squinting as you adjust to the light.

“i thought you weren’t coming,” you murmur, placing your hand atop his, the pressure in your chest subsiding the more you realise that he’s actually real and not just a dream.

eddie sighs, it’s his fault for even giving you reason to have those doubts and that kills him. “of course not.. i made a promise,” his thumb strokes gentle patterns into your cheek, “i’m coming back, always.”

“mhm,” you nod, a mix of tiredness and a lingering lack of trust.

“you wanna go to bed?” he asks, desperate to get in your good books again. hell, he’d have to do far more than this to make seven years of shit up to you.

“only if you carry me,” offering your arms out, if ella can do it, you can to.

“obviously,” he chuckles, sliding his arms underneath your knees, hoisting you off of the couch.

you’re anything but quiet walking up stairs, giggling into his neck as he groans his way up the staircase. “fuck, i’m getting old,” he complains, backing his way into your room, gently laying your body on top of the duvet before knocking the door shut.

you nestle into the pillows, watching eddie as he undresses, his jacket hitting the floor with a soft thud. he’d only been gone a month but you’d missed his presence. the way his eyes glided over your body, enamoured by your less-than-impressive mom body.

he collapses onto the bed, shuffling underneath the blanket with you, reaching out to bring you closer. “i know i said..” his nose pokes against your neck, a deep inhale before he continues, “that it’d be worth it.. but i’m tired and you’re tired so.. can i just make it up to you tomorrow?” nuzzling against your soft skin.

your laugh vibrates against his cheek, sliding your arms around his neck, legs tangling together in a mess of limbs, “eddie munson turning down sex? jesus christ, what’s happened to you?”

eddie grunts, deep and husky, flipping the situation on it’s head as he clambers on top, “oh fuck you,” his barely holding himself up, body weight keeping you pressed firmly against the mattress.

“please do,” grinning up at him, marvelling the way that even in the dark, he was still the prettiest man you’d ever laid eyes on.

his lips find your neck, peppering kisses along your jawline, hips rutting against the thin material of your pajama shorts.

when his mouth meets the delicate spot between your collarbone and the crook of your neck, you can’t help but let slip the one thing you’d been waiting to say, “i’m glad you came back,” gasping as his teeth graze the fragile skin.

he pauses, looking up at you, basked in moonlight, “i’ll always come back to you,” mumbling quietly, before continuing his descent down your body.

your eyes flutter shut, allowing your body to relax, blissful desire overcoming every nerve.

holy shit, you were happy.

-

the next few months go by smoothly. he’s back when he says he’s going to be, keeping his nose clean and his head down while he’s out on the west coast.

of course it’s never easy saying goodbye. each and every time you’re filled with this sense of dread, petrified that this might just be the time he doesn’t return.

but he does.

each and every time.

eddie had got back late last night, still half-asleep as he sips his coffee next to ella, haphazardly feeding her the breakfast she was quite capable of feeding herself.

“i’ve been thinking,” he starts, watching as you busy about with dishes. he doesn’t understand how you have the energy to care about that shit this early in the morning. “i think you should come out to california with me.. next time i go back,” shoving a spoonful of mushy pancakes into ella’s mouth.

you pause but don’t turn to face him, staring down at the sink full of bubbles, “what for?”

that part of his life didn’t interest you one bit, maybe he enjoyed it and you were happy if he was but that wasn’t anything you wanted. in fact, you’d been meaning to bring it up for a while now.

you understood that dating eddie meant that strangers were far more interested in your relationship than they should be but they’d started to accost you at work, taking ella to and from school, just about anywhere in public. the attention was starting to get a little tiring, nothing you couldn’t handle but you’d wondered if he somehow had the power to stop them.

“well,” handing the spoon to ella and getting up from the table to join you at the sink, “we’ve got our album rollout soon so i’m gonna have to be out there a little longer this time,” his shoulder knocks into yours, pulling your attention from the dirty dishes, “but.. we have our release party and i want you to be there,” pulling that cheeky grin he knew you couldn’t say no to.

how much longer? he was already out there for weeks at a time, how much longer could they keep him? oh god what if they go on tour? you’d never cope.

“release party?” grabbing the dishcloth, wiping the suds from your hands, “i don’t even know what that is.. you don’t want me there,” turning to face him and his sickening smile.

“of course i do,” lips turning into a frown, taking the cloth from your hands, “it’s a small party.. the boys and their girlfriends.. a few people who helped on the album,” he’s serious now, dipping his head to meet yours. “they wanna meet you, everyone does.”

you sigh, looking into his gleaming eyes. you’re obviously apprehensive to agree, if the stories you’d heard of the other guys were anything to go by, that weren’t the goofy nerds you’d once watch practice all night, now you think you’d actually probably hate them.

“what about ella?” turning to look at your daughter, your one saving grace.

“i’m sure we can figure that out,” eddie blinks, “steve can have her or.. or his mom,” throwing out anything he could think of, “i’ll throw them some money, make sure she has the best week ever,” rubbing his fingers together.

“he won’t take your money eddie,” you sigh. steve would never, because as much as he now liked eddie, he was still your best friend and he knew you’d kill him if he did.

“no,” eddie whines, “it’s not for steve, it’s for ella.. so they can go and do whatever they want.. eat whatever they want.. you know,” he peers over your shoulder at the kitchen table, eyes gleaming with opportunity. “ella, don’t you think mommy should come with me and you can have a vacation at uncle steve’s house?”

you tut as ella chimes in with a loud, enthusiastic “yes!” banging her fists against the table.

your palm meets his chest, “don’t use my own child against me, asshole,” struggling to stop your lips from curling into a smile. it was working and you hated the fact that you were so easily swayed by him.

“ella has spoken!” he exclaims, taking your hand on his chest into his, “so you’ll come?” cocking his head to the side, much like a tiny, manipulative little dog.

you huff, admitting defeat, “fine.. but only if steve says yes and there’s no guarantee he will,” flicking your eyes back over to ella, who is watching with a massive toothy grin.

it’s times like these that you’re grateful she doesn’t take after her dad.

-

of course steve says yes. useless prick.

“why don’t you wanna go?” his brows furrowed, sipping the overpriced coffee he’d suggested you go get.

“can you imagine me in la? me? really?”

he chuckles, “yeah.. yeah i can actually,” shaking his head. knowing steve, he’d probably been thinking about how he would fit right in there. if you ever did end up moving west, there’s no way in hell that you’d leave him here.

“shut up,” brushing him off, “what if nobody likes me?”

it had been a genuine worry of yours since before eddie had even asked. there’d surely be a thousand eyes on you seeing as you were now very publicly with him. you paled in comparison to his exes. models and singers alike. you were just some frumpy mom who no one had ever heard of.

why would they like you?

“stop it,” steve swats at you, “they’ll love you! i love you so they’ve got no reason not to!”

but you weren’t so sure.

-

so after weeks of fretting about clothes and deliberating over whether you should even go with steve, you jet off to lax.

you’d attempted to pay for your own ticket but eddie hadn’t accepted any of it. told you it was all taken care of and all you had to do was go. much to your disapproval.

there are a few fans at the airport, with no interest in you, obviously. they were so used to him at indianapolis airport now that the paps didn’t even bother.

eddie’s excited babbling about the party keeps you relaxed throughout the flight, focussing on his smile and not the fact that you were thirty thousand feet in the air.

everything starts to feel real when you land and are immediately ushered through the airport, bundled into a car and told to stay put until they got your luggage.

holy shit.

“there’s some dickheads out front.. it’s just so we don’t see them,” eddie soothes, taking your hand into his, resting on his thigh.

“is it always like this?” you ask, curious about this side of his life that you never saw. even more grateful that people in indiana mostly left you alone now.

“sometimes.. but they’re only doing this because of the album.”

you nod, sitting in quiet reflection as people come and go constantly. bustling around the car, muttering things to eddie as they do. it all just seemed so overwhelming, like there was never a moment alone.

eventually, your bags get stuffed into the car and you begin the journey to god knows where, all the while clinging onto eddie’s hand with a iron tight grip.

when you turn into a gated driveway, you sit up. peering out of the window at the glorious garden. his drive was bigger than your entire house, you couldn’t imagine having this much room at your disposal.

his house is big. actually, big is an incredible understatement. it’s breathtaking.

nicer than anything you’ve seen before. you couldn’t even begin to materialise how much he must have spent. you’re not sure you even want to know.

the ceilings loom ten feet tall, walls covered in tasteful but overpriced art. the sofa alone probably cost more than your entire house. christ, it’s the size of your living room as it is.

“jesus christ,” you breathe, still taking in the lavish house, gawping at the tacky statues and the glistening glass chandelier hanging above your head.

“nice, isn’t it?” he states, still wheeling your suitcases behind him, “obviously i didn’t decorate it myself.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you smile, marvelling the rather excessive house, “you don’t need all of this,” gesturing around the room.

“hey,” he pouts, ditching the suitcases to make his away over to you, “this house used to be very useful when..” trailing off as he realises just what he was going to say.

“when what? when you were a whore?” you bite, only half-joking.

“woah,” awkwardly laughing, unsure of whether you were joking or not, “when i had parties,” correcting your presumptions, “but i’m a boring man now.. thanks to you,” his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body.

your arms return the favour, tilting your chin to match his, “hmm is that right?”

his eyes are no longer on yours, gazing down at your lips with a twinkle of lust, “yup..”

“oh, well maybe i should just go..” but before you can finish, his hands are grabbing your ass, palming at the doughy flesh.

“uh uh,” pressing your heads together, pausing just before he connects your lips, “i’m never letting you leave now,” and with that, he finally kisses you.

skilfully walking you backward through the large foyer, still palming at your ass as he does so. you should’ve known that this was first on the agenda. there weren’t as many opportunities for the two of you to have sex at your house.

his lips hang from yours, leeching onto your bottom lip, palming at your sweater, eager to get it off. “i’ve thought about having you in every single room in this house..” he mumbles into your mouth, making your cheeks burn.

“every.. room?” you speak softly through kisses, bashful at his words.

“mmm,” he grumbles, hand slipping under the soft material of your sweater, brushing over the curve of your waist, “need you.. here,” walking your body back into the marble counter, your lips still barely connected, “in there,” gesturing back towards the grand living room, “everywhere,”

your thighs squeeze together in anticipation of it all. you were flying back home in a week, there was not a chance you’d get through the entirety of this massive house in that short time.

eddie growls into your mouth, hoisting your body onto the countertop in one swift movement, forcing his way between your legs. you can feel his cock already, pressed against your throbbing cunt.

his tongue slides into your mouth, moving against your own with hungry movements. you were too old for this kind of excitement, the ferocity was making your head spin.

his hands are quick, working your sweater off without much interruption, immediately finding your lips again. your hips cant, chasing the needed friction of his cock, eager to strip him from the rough denim.

“someone’s impatient,” a rough laugh echoes from his lips, but he’s obliging. unbuttoning your jeans before patting your thigh to move for him.

you do, letting his cold hands slide your jeans down your thighs, stuck around your ankles as he’s really not concerned with taking them off fully. you’re soaked already, can feel it when the fresh air hits your heat.

eddie’s focused now, his own pants pulled down around his knees, cock jumping in his boxers when your hand reaches out to touch his chest. you liked that. the fact that even now, you could control him with a simple touch.

“jesus baby,” he remarks, two fingers slipping between the crotch of your underwear, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this,” mouth hanging open as he works his way between your soaked folds and into your hole, eliciting a sharp gasp from your mouth.

he’s slow with it, curling his fingers at just the right spot, “oh god,” you whisper, one hand clinging to his forearm, the other holding onto the hard counter.

your eyes flutter shut, head rolling back, granting him access to your untouched neck. he immediately attacks the delicate skin, no doubt leaving his mark like some unruly teenager.

“need you now baby..” he grumbles, removing his hand from between your legs and nudging his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring up, already leaking with pre-cum.

“yeah.. yeah,” muttering into the room, heels attaching around his hips, urging him to speed things up.

his hair brushes against your neck as he gazes down between your bodies, staring in awe at the way they connected, almost losing all composure when his cock nestles between your folds and slides perfectly into your quivering cunt.

pretty pink lips parting to groan when he bottoms out, savouring the feeling for just a moment before his hips take over. his pelvis connects with the backs of your thighs, finding his rhythm, seeking whatever pace made you the loudest.

your quiet squeaks aren’t enough for him, after years of being quiet, you’re not used to having the freedom to be loud.

“c’mon sweetheart,” he pants, hand skirting around your hip, squeezing the flesh, “i wanna hear you,” slipping out of your cunt, refusing to give you what you want without something in return.

your eyes open to eddie, staring right back at you, devilish grin on his lips, “don’t be mean,” you pout, squeezing your legs to pull him forward, huffing in frustration when he keeps back.

his forehead presses against yours, glossy eyed as he gazes into your eyes, “this what you want?” he bites before sinking back in, profanities tumble out of his mouth.

a disgusting whine finds itself at your lips, filling the space between you, drawing his gaze to your wetted lips. “that’s it baby,” thrusts starting to gain speed, his tip bullying your walls.

you can’t help but get louder, keeping your eyes trained on his dilated pupils, moaning with each time his pubic bone brushes against your starved clit. knuckles turning white as you grip onto the counter, chanting his name like some sort of mantra.

“there she is,” he pants, slamming into you with such speed that makes you feel as if you’re flying. it’s filthy how much the wet, pornographic noises your bodies are making spurs you on. only wanting to get louder to match them.

eddie’s thumb meets your neglected clit, circling the bud in line with his thrusts. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending your head into the clouds and your stomach hurtling toward your long-awaited orgasm.

“eddie..” drawing out his name, letting it echo through the decadent kitchen, “fuck,” fingernails leaving behind half-moon markings on his forearm, unsupported by the ruthless motion of his thumb against your clit.

you’re struggling to even stay with it, gasping for breath as your walls tighten around him. sighing as he begins to falter, “you gonna cum princess? huh?” beads of sweat beginning to form on his nose, holding his own orgasm off to allow you yours first.

“yeah.. yeah,” you babble nonsensically, “oh fuck.. oh eddie,” thighs trembling around his hips as you topple over the edge, holding onto the counter for dear life as your orgasm takes over.

body going numb as the fuzzy feeling takes over, watching his lips mouth that’s it and baby’s over and over. trying not to topple over as his cock continues to nudge against your spongy walls, slowing as his own orgasm begins.

“cum in me,” you urge, completely besotted by your own desire for him, “please,” resorting to begging when his eyes squeeze shut, unable to hold himself off any longer.

he grunts, you coax him through it, ankles still resting at the small of his back, unrelenting with their grip as his cock spurts thick ropes of cum, painting your walls. “shit- baby.. i- you-,” he puffs, “what the fuck,” throwing his head back, his messy fringe sticking to his damp forehead.

“sorry..” you mumble, ashamed by the way you turn into a ravenous monster around eddie, wanting to give him your all and nothing else.

“jesus christ don’t apologise,” his hands clamp around your cheeks, pulling your face to his for one final kiss, mumbling a quick i love you before helping you from the counter.

eddie’s in his element here, not that he didn’t make himself at home in your home, but this was his domain.

there’s a strange twinge in your heart, a rogue voice that occasionally makes an appearance, something that made you question whether he was really happy with your little life or if it was just something he was accepting for the time being.

you bury it down, refusing to let it grow into anything more and follow him down the hall, listening to him complain about his back.

-

nothing could’ve prepared you for the party. it couldn’t have been further from how eddie had initially sold it to you.

it’s all bright lights and thousands of people. expensive dresses and unfamiliar faces fill the room, prodding and poking at eddie and subsequently you. wanting to know the ins and outs of everything.

fuck. you think. this is suffocating.

there’s no release, people are fucking everywhere.

even after you gulp down a glass of wine, people whizz around you, echoing fake niceties about your dress or your hair or whatever materialistic bullshit they were pretending to care about.

eddie is a natural of course. he’s been doing this for years. he always had the ability to carry a conversation, to make people listen to him. you weren’t so lucky.

he’s prattling on about some sick riff on the new album now, barely giving you chance to let him know you’re going to the bathroom.

hoping to seek some solace from these vultures. you so wished steve was here. he’d make everything feel better, tell you that it was okay and that these people don’t deserve your time.

but he’s not. he’s a thousand miles away, probably tucked up in bed with ella. somewhere you longed to be.

after a long ten minutes in the cubicle, uttering a chorus of positive affirmations to yourself, you push your way out, right into the crowd of very glamorous women all stood in front of the mirrors. reapplying their makeup or touching up their already stiff hair.

one of the older ladies takes notice of you lingering behind, turning to face you with a smug smile, “you’re eddie’s new thing, aren’t you?”

venom laced between her words, rolling effortlessly off of her sharp tongue. the other women all turn in tandem, all narrowed eyes and faux smiles.

“uh.. i’m his girlfriend,” shaking their glances off, focusing on the stream of running water on your hands and not the prickly feeling at the back of your throat.

“oh! girlfriend!” she titters, barging into one of the other, “usually they don’t make it that far.. what d’you have that the others didn’t?” her icy gaze runs the length of your body.

no doubt judging your dress, the way your mom body sat in the lavish fabric. you don’t blame her. you’d hated it from the moment you first looked in the mirror.

“we..” clearing your throat to avoid your voice cracking, “we used to date.. in high school,” you could feel yourself physically shrinking, reverting back into the same quiet girl you were in school.

“aw sweet,” there’s not even a hint of sincerity in her nasally tone, “well you know, we all thought gigi was gonna be the one,” the other women nod in agreement, “he was just different with her.. everyone thought he was going to propose.. never seen him like that since,” nodding like she’d won a contest you weren’t even competing in.

her words sting, and she knows it. in fact, she relishes it. even though you know she’s only doing it for some sort of reaction, you still let them in. your heart prangs in your chest; now stood frozen in front of the basin.

“you have a kid, don’t you?” she continues, clearly unhappy with your lack of reaction. wanting to stick her claws in just a little deeper.

you nod, biting down hard onto the inside of your cheek. trying to swallow the growing lump in the back of your throat.

her eyes wander down once again, “yeah i thought so.. eddie always said he didn’t want kids,” tutting her shiny white teeth, “i wouldn’t expect him to hang around long, he’s at the peak of his career darling.. no time for high school sweethearts and their kids.”

and that’s it. the final blow. slicing through your chest, churning your guts from the inside out. a stranger had affirmed every single fear and doubt you’d had. crumbling the facade you’d curated for this fucking party.

you don’t even give her the satisfaction of a reply, or perhaps you give her exactly what she wanted, storming out of the bathroom with a trembling bottom lip and watering eyes.

instead of going straight back to eddie, you find a quiet corner, facing the wall as you collect yourself the best you can. your throat hurts, the lump struggling to disappear, tears threatening to spill over as you attempt to remember how to breathe.

eddie is higher than you’ve ever seen him before, relishing in the moment. he’s completely different out here. talking to any and every one, turning the charm on the second someone walks his way.

“eds,” mumbling quietly, tugging on his arm to garner his attention.

you hated him a little for even convincing you to come. why couldn’t he have just sent pictures? no fuck that, why couldn’t he have just stayed here and never forced his way back into your life?

you don’t mean it. you love him.

“hmm?” not quite looking at you.

“i wanna go back.. i don’t feel good.”

this is where he turns, focusing his attention on you, brows furrowing immediately, “what? what’s wrong?”

now, you could tell him. let him know that his friends were assholes and you were either going to burst into tears or run out of this place screaming. but decide to leave it until you’re back at his, there was no use in causing drama on his night.

“i just..” you sigh, dipping your head low so no one else could hear, “i don’t feel good.. maybe i’m sick,” it wasn’t a lie as such. your stomach had been turning all night but you’d brushed it off as anxiety, eager to not ruin the party.

“well-,” he begins but stops, “d’you want me to come with you?” though you can tell he really doesn’t want to. you don’t blame him.

eddie’s always been an extrovert, begging for people to pay attention to him, even if it meant tussling with basketball players or anyone else that dared to question his character. he just wanted people to notice him.

“no no.. i just wanted to let you know,” chewing on your bottom lip, his face becoming increasingly more concerned with every word. you hope he hasn’t noticed your watery eyes, not in the mood to have to explain what had happened right here, right now.

“okay.. we can go, it’s okay,” eddie soothes, picking up that something wasn’t right.

this is what you’d tried to avoid, not wanting to selfishly snatch him away from his event, his friends and his album launch.

“no.. stay here, i’ll be fine, just need to.. rest,” brushing him off, as if you wouldn’t kill to just curl up in his big bed, talking away all of the harsh comments you’d heard.

his expression becomes incredibly soft, despite the crowd surrounding the two you trying to pry, “you sure? i don’t mind..” he frowns, “i’ll come back with you, I don’t want you on your own if you feel that shitty,” already looking past you trying to catch someone’s eye to tell them about the change in plans.

“no!” you push, rather quickly, “please don’t let me be the reason you miss this.. i promise i’ll be fine,” pulling away from his grasp, rushing out of the building with absolutely no plan to get back.

eddie strides along behind, grabbing onto your arm, forcing you to stop and face him, “hey.. stop, i’ll get rob to drive you,” guiding you through the see of people and out into the fresh air at long, long last.

it’s like you can finally breathe again. the stifling heat of a hundred bodies wasn’t helping your anxieties, relief washing over your body the second the november breeze hits your flushed face.

he leans into the same car you arrived in, muttering something to who you assume is rob, motioning for you to come over. you oblige, standing at his side as he repeats what’s happening to you though none of the words compute.

“i won’t be long, okay? a couple hours max and then i’ll be back,” pulling you in for an unreciprocated hug.

he bundles you in to the back of the car, nodding to rob to start the journey.

you’re thankful the conversation is non-existent, leaning your forehead against the window, drawing lines into the condensation on the glass.

you want to go home.

and not eddie’s house.. home.

three days had been more than enough for you to decide this life wasn’t for you.

wiping spaghetti off of ella’s smiley face was. gossiping with steve about people you went to high school with was. los angeles certainly wasn’t.

-

eddie stumbles into the bedroom some hours later, obviously tipsy with a vague stench of booze and people clinging onto his clothes. the smell turns your stomach, peering over your shoulder to see him sliding his suit jacket off, trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

"whoops sorry.. did i wake you?" he asks, slightly slurring his words.

"no, i wasn't asleep," you shift, turning to face him, preparing to break the news.

he slides into the gargantuan bed, running a hand over his face as he comfies himself, "you all okay now?" extending his hand to rest on your waist, smoothing his fingers over the thick duvet.

you exhale, peering up at him through the dimly lit room, "i think i'm gonna go home tomorrow," you’d stewed on it all night and decided it was what’s best.

“what?” his hand stops, sitting up to see you better.

“i’m going back to hawkins tomorrow.”

“why?” he exclaims, unable to comprehend why tonight had gone from a great night to you rushing off home.

“because i miss ella,” you’d umm’d and ahh’d about telling him what had gone down in the bathroom, ultimately deciding not to. he’d only reiterate some bullshit about it not being true and you shouldn’t worry, it wasn’t worth the effort.

“it’s three more days babe.. wha- i don’t understand, where’s this come from?” he’s breathing heavily, focussing on sobering up you suppose.

you sigh again, hesitant to tell him that his friends were assholes and had made you feel like shit. “i just.. i guess i don’t fit in here,” shrugging it off, minimising the niggling thoughts of insecurity that had planted themselves into your brain.

“what are you talking about?” eddie frowns, genuinely perplexed. “did something happen? what are you not telling me about?”

you shake your head, struggling to find the right words, “there was just..” trailing off into the void, “someone said something to me and i’m-,” biting down into your bottom lip, decidedly letting it all out, “i don’t want this life eddie, i never asked for this.. for people to try and pick my life apart! that wasn’t part of the deal!” becoming increasingly frustrated with your boyfriend.

how could he not get it?

“woah.. who said something? i can fix that,” his eyebrows knit together, you’re not sure if he’s angry or just confused. “if you don’t tell me, i can’t do anything.”

“what are you gonna do?” nostrils flaring at his inability to just understand, “what’s said was said.. and i want to go home eddie, that’s the end of it,” running a hand through your hair, still stiff with hairspray and whatever other gunk the stylist had shoved into it.

“jesus christ,” he huffs, sick of the conversation, of trying to get you to stay. “fine. i’ll get someone to change your flight in the morning, can you wait that long?” his snarky voice making an appearance. you hadn’t missed that.

“thank you,” you whisper, unable to get any louder for fear of the lump in your throat.

instead you turn over, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to let the tears brim over. eddie wouldn’t have understood even if you could tell him, ella wasn’t his kid, those words wouldn’t hurt the same. sure, he’d be pissed and he’d more than likely get her fired but what use was that now?

she’d still uttered the words. still forced her poison into your brain, she’d already got what she wanted.

-

eddie barely musters up two sentences to you in the morning, speaking in hushed tones to the muffled voice on the other side of the phone.

everything’s fucked and it’s your fault. he knows it too.

“flight’s in four hours.. rob’ll take you to the airport at twelve,” he huffs, hanging the phone back on the wall with enough force to make the plastic rattle.

“thank you,” you call after him, watching as he disappears down the long hall. he had just trampled on your already throbbing heart, stomping on the organ as if it didn’t matter.

-

when rob arrives, eddie’s in a more optimistic mood, wheeling your suitcase out of his room with a sullen expression, attempting to sway your mind one last time. “i can always cancel this flight..” opening the large door for you, “you can stay if you want to.”

“eddie..”

and with that, he knows it’s not going to work. blinking rapidly, a deep sigh coming from his chest, “right, got it.”

his hand slams the car door shut, still lingering on the metal as you sit inside. you felt like a petulant child, being sent away because you dared to disobey the rules. it’s all so stupid.

and deep down, eddie knows that ultimately, this is all his fault. he’s the one that skipped town eight years ago, left you without so much as a note to explain himself. as he watches the car roll down the drive, he lets himself wonder what life would’ve been like if he didn’t leave, if you’d even still be together or if this had to happen to bring you two back together. the universe was cruel like that.

-

the airport is bustling, families dithering around trying to find their flights and busy men dashing from one place to the other.

there’s only one thing you need and that’s the bathroom. shoving yourself and your things into a cramped cubicle to do what you needed to do.

and maybe you were being silly, perhaps the stress of last night had got to your head and now you were jumping to crazy conclusions.

but you’d been here before. known the signs, the little things that most people would probably just brush off. so you’d made rob pull into a gas station on your way to the airport and bought a two pack of the cheapest tests you could find.

five minutes feel like five hours. refusing to even peek at the shitty piece of plastic until the time was up.

your heart is thudding, blood pumping around your ears so loudly that you’re sure the lady in the stall next to you could hear it.

hands shaking as you turn the test, two thin blue lines reveal themselves on the tiny screen.

the test clatters to the floor, your mouth falling open as your eyes fog. it wasn’t like you didn’t know, you just didn’t know.

and now you do, everything feels fragile. someone’s cough rings in your ears, the sterile bathroom felt a thousand times smaller than it did five minutes ago.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

her voice echoes around your head, just as snarky as it were the first time you heard it. you feel sick. the acidic liquid rises quick, forcing you to spin and stick your head into the porcelain bowl.

emptying your stomach until your throat stings, retching and coughing, trying not to start sobbing.

eddie always said he didn’t want kids.

you can’t tell him, not yet anyway.

fuck.

a thousand thoughts flood your mind. were you even still together? he was on this press tour for weeks now. you can’t tell him over the phone. maybe you had broken up and you wouldn’t ever have to let him now. he would just have an illegitimate child in his hometown that he’d never know about.

nothing felt right. the high you’d been riding from the first two days with him had quite violently come crashing back to earth.

the only thing you want to do is tell steve.

he probably wouldn’t know what to do nor would he be very much help, you just needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

-

it’s the first thing you say as you slide into steve’s bmw, blurting out the news like it wasn’t potentially life changing.

as expected, his jaw drops, blabbering about babies at a hundred miles an hour. excited and amazed all at the same time.

“- i haven’t told him yet,” you manage to spit out in the middle of his nonsensical ranting.

“what?”

“i didn’t even know until i got to the airport,” you sniff, staring at the drops of rain on his windscreen rather than his eyes. “he’s on this press tour for weeks now.. i can’t tell him over the phone.”

“well shit,” steve’s shoulder slump, empathising with your less than ideal situation, “you have to,” he blinks, focusing on the road ahead.

“steve.. i don’t think you understand,” swallowing the air, unsure if the car was the best place to tell him about your little argument. “shit happened, it’s not.. it’s not that easy.”

he frowns, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel as he drives, “well,” voice louder than expected, “we’ll think of something, trust me.”

your body relaxes for the first time in hours. if no one else had you, you know steve did.

-

there are paps fucking everywhere, littering the sidewalk as steve pulls into your drive, the bright lights already blinding you.

“what the fuck?” steve screeches, turning to face you in the driver's seat. They aren’t dumb, they know that if they step on your property, you are well within your rights to escort them off. so they hang back, inching towards the car but staying far enough away to not allow you to get them off.

“i don’t know.. i don’t know,” shaking your head, you were baffled how they had even found out you were home. you’d known they were scummy but christ, not this scummy.

“just get inside and I’ll bring your stuff in,” steve nods reassuringly, stepping out of the car ready to punch whoever got in his way.

you exhale, preparing for the onslaught of questions and pictures. the key poised in your hand to get you inside as quickly as humanly possible. word must have got out that your trip had ended abruptly, that or someone had seen you sulking around the airport like the sad sack you were.

your feet stumble along the asphalt, holding your hand to your face as to guard your eyes from the flashes. hundreds of questions echo in your ears, what happened between you and eddie munson? have you broken up? did he cheat again?

it’s god awful. gritty voices screaming across the lawn at you. steve has your suitcase rolling behind him, jaw clenched as he guides you to the door.

“you’re harassing a pregnant woman you fucking scumbags! go fuck yourselves!” he unleashes over his shoulder, flapping his arms about.

your mouth falls open, pulling him through the door and into your hall. the one thing you had not wanted him to let slip and he had just blurted it out to the crowd of hungry vultures.

it’d be the first thing on the front page tomorrow and yet you still hadn’t told eddie. at least now you didn’t have to.

he knows he wasn’t supposed to say it too, hand slapped across his mouth, inundated with shock and regret. “i’m so sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes, eyes like saucers as his arms wrap around your shoulders, “i’m an idiot.. fuck! i’m sorry,” you cheek smushed against his chest.

the familiar feeling opens the floodgates, tears stream down your cheeks, wetting his t-shirt as your shoulders shake. wailing hysterically into his beating chest. he wasn’t quite expecting this, more so a few hours of the silent treatment.

“oh no.. i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to,” steve whispers into the air, his chin coming to rest atop of your head, squeezing your fragile frame in his arms.

“it’s not-,” rudely interrupted by a rogue hiccup, “shit.. it’s not you-,” hiccup, “oh my god,” you exclaim, tears turning into laughter at an unprecedented rate.

steve loosens his grip, confused as all hell at the mess you’d become against him. “jesus christ, are you okay?” holding your shoulders at arms length to examine the snotty, hiccupy mess in front of him.

“no,” you laugh, completely hysterical.

he guides you to the couch, making your movements for you, plonking down on the cushions in a flurry of emotion.

there you tell him everything. the party, the bitch with the sharp jawline in the bathroom and her nasty words, the aftermath and then all about your panic attack in a tiny lax bathroom.

it’s cathartic, knowing he won’t judge or diminish the way you feel. steve just listens, his hand rubbing small strokes on your knee every time you got to a juicy part.

how the hell were you ever going to tell eddie now?

-

there’s a knock at your door, mindlessly going to answer it without thinking much of the mad crowd of people that were out there just a few days ago. steve had gratefully been staying with you, helping with ella while also trying to hatch a plan to tell eddie without ruining everything.

it only occurs to you that it very well could be another nosy reporter as the door is already unlocked and slightly ajar.

you peep around the tiny crack, prepared to be bombarded with a bunch of questions and bright lights.

there’s none of that.

only the pitying image of one eddie munson stood on your doorstep with his shoulders slumped, black ray-ban’s hanging from his shirt and an inconceivable look upon his face.

“what the fuck?” he utters, barely audible. he looks exhausted, dark rings around his eyes with the body language to match. his hair in dark matter tangles hung around his face.

your mouth opens but the words fail to materialise, utterly speechless. there’s nothing you could possibly say now that would lessen the blow. and bless his soul, steve had fucked it.

no.

you had fucked it by running off back home without telling him the seemingly very important news.

“were you ever gonna tell me?” eyebrows screwed together, eyes glossy with what looked like tears.

“i.. i- yes, i was.. i didn’t.. i didn’t know,” pleading with him with your eyes, hoping they could tell him exactly what your words couldn’t. your lip trembles, as much as this had played on your mind since steve had let slip, the two of you still hadn’t come up with an acceptable explanation.

deep down you know really why you still hadn’t called him. you were scared, terrified even, that he’d laugh at you. tell you to fuck off, or get rid of it and to never contact him again. that wouldn’t surprise anyone, he was at the top of his career and definitely wouldn’t want to jack that in for his boring high school ex-girlfriend.

that’s what you’d told yourself anyway.

“when? when it was born?” his words are sharp, reaffirming every single fear you had conjured up in your brain.

you inhale sharply, the lump making it up and out of your throat before you had the chance to swallow it down. tears spill down your warm cheeks, the most ghastly cry coming from your mouth.

you must look utterly pathetic as eddie’s face softens almost immediately, springing from your doorstep and over the threshold to caress your cheek, mopping the tears with his thumb. “sorry.. i’m sorry fuck- i just wish you’d told me,” leaning forward to keep his eyes solidly on yours, any anger had dissipated from his face.

“i was scared, i’m sorry.. I didn’t know what to do,” burying your face into his shoulder, already wetting the shirt with your tears. shoulders shaking as you sob. “i swear.. i didn’t know until i got to the airport, i really- i just needed a few days..” howling into his steady shoulder.

he walks the both of you inside into your hallway, pushing the door shut before his other hand tangled into your hair, soothing out the wild strands. “i know.. it’s okay,” reassuring you even though you really didn’t deserve it.

“and that lady.. i don’t know, she got into my head,” sniffling, appreciating the familiarity of his cologne and the faint smell of cigarettes he always seemed to have.

his body stiffens, pulling your body from the safety of his, “what lady? is this about the party? fuck sake man, no one would tell me anything,” he’s serious now, frustration overcoming his features once more, although this time they weren’t directed towards you.

you sigh, using your palm to wipe your stinging cheeks, “it doesn’t matter.. and it’s fine, you know? i get it.. why someone like you wouldn’t want kids. i’ve come to terms with it,” nodding through your lines, despite the fact that you couldn’t have believed them less.

“what? what the hell are you talking about?” flabbergasted that you’d even suggest that.

your face falls, once stoic and ready to face being a single mom again. “that lady.. she said..” shaking your head, “you didn’t want kids,” bottom lip quivering, tears threatening to spill over again.

“oh my god,” it clicks for him, and you wish it would for you too. “that’s.. fuck- i did say that but it was a long time ago now,” his fingers dig into your arms, ensuring that he really hammers his point home, “of course i do.. shit sweetheart, of course i do,” the flecks of caramel in his eyes shine through ten-fold when he’s staring at you, glossed over with the remnants of his tears.

your mouth opens, moving though nothing comes out, hopeless as the words fail to form.

“you’re an idiot,” eddie laughs lovingly, pulling you back towards him, encasing your face in his rough palms, the cold of his rings soothes your tear laden cheeks. “why didn’t you tell me? or just ask me?”

you giggle a bit, shrugging your shoulders, “i don’t know.. i didn’t think,” nothing made sense and yet, you felt better than you had in weeks.

eddie’s here, in front of you, happy, grinning from ear to ear as he remembers why he’s even stood in your dark corridor, “baby.. we’re having a baby,” squishing your cheeks between his hands.

his joy is palpable, brushing off on you despite your leaking eyes. he still looks at you like that, even though you’d scarped off, even after you had let the world know you were pregnant before him. it was like the stars shon in your eyes, as if the very key to living was buried somewhere within your soul and he just had to be the first to grasp it.

your heart is bursting, a weeks worth of sleepless nights and fretting over destroying your relationship had come to this. to holding each other in the dim light, both terrified for what was to come.

[sluttsumu]

let me live my fratboy!inarizaki dream okay?

chars: ‘tsumu, osamu, suna, & kita

nsfw — mdni, tw: corruption

fratboy!atsumu who is literally the worst person alive, but he’s hot and a good fuck so it makes it okay, okay?

he’s fucked every girl from his fan club and every bimbo on campus but that’s not what satisfies him at all. prissy, hard-to-get girls with their hymens still intact really turns him on. why? because he enjoys the chase of a women who won’t instantly fall to her knees for him. secretly finding information about his next target so he could casually end up in the same study period, or walking along the same path just so he could talk to her. it could be labeled kind ‘stalkery’ but he labeled it as persistent, because at the end of the day once her manicure was clawing at his back it’s mission accomplished, and onto the next. “you didn’t think i actually wanted you? did you” he’d chuckle in the faces of the girls who looked at him with tears in their eyes, he figured that in the end they would end up blaming themselves for fucking a known whore anyway.

fratboy!suna whose an old money nepo-baby, in which he flashes his parents cash to attract gold digger, wannabe future housewives.

slut is an understatement, calculated whore is a better term. as a psyc major he’s the king of gaslighting and manipulation, AND THE GIRLS EAT IT UP. unlike atsumu he somewhat puts in the effort to finding a girlfriend, but there’s always a new one…every month. being sly and cunning is genetic according to him, it’s also the same way he manipulates girls into not wearing condoms. “c’mon pretty, how’re gonna give me an heir with latex in the way, hmm?” and it works every time. every selfish, greedy girlfriend he’s had falls for his antics in hopes to marry their way into his family, and give him a baby. let’s just say the only “compensation” they got was from a therapist or him buying them off to get a plan b the next morning.

fratboy!kita who is literally so smart he manages to y= m (x+d)^2 + k, girls into his bed.

it’s all so innocent at first when he offers to carry a certain girls books, and that turns into him sitting next to her in class. it’s cute from a far, isn’t it? when in reality he’s just singled out the classes bimbo in hopes to tutor her. day by day he’d observe while sitting next to her, as she’d glance over at him to catch him staring from time to time. she thought that he was maybe admiring how pretty she was or caught on to her perfume of the day, but that was never the case. in his mind he was practically drooling over the way her tits spilled out of her shirt, or when they had a test and he could tell she stayed up all night because she looked completely fucked out. after her whining a few times about her grades he offered to help, which just turned into him making her that much dumber by fucking her over his desk till she was babbling. “stupid girls fall into stupid traps” he’d say, and the fact that he did this every semester meant that he was always right.

fratboy!osamu who is literally the most nonchalant asshole known around the entire campus.

osamu was too persuasive for his own good. he could never hold a solid relationship or friendship with anyone of the opposing gender, why? because he ends up fucking all of his female friends, and then ghosting them not even 24 hours after. his tricks were the same with every girl, and a night out with him always turned into the walk of shame the following morning. the only notifications any girl would receive from him afterwards is a copy of their intoxicated sex tape which most don’t remember making and a follow up message saying “my friends think you look really good on camera btw”. confronting him after study hall the next day wouldn’t change a thing, simply because the only response he’d give was “do i know you?”

SLUTTSUMU 2023

[mochinomnoms]

OH MY GOD JAMIL WAS AN OPTION??? sorry I'm obsessed with him... snake man..... did you have any thoughts on what ptm would have been like with him...

Referring to this post

I considered Jamil for a bit cause he fit the basic plot that I wanted, but I fucking hate that bitch so—

I'm kidding, he's not my most favorite character but my "hatred" is more of a joke than anything, but since he isn't an appealing character to me I didn't feel like writing such a big fic for him when there were others I liked much more.

Similar to Vil, I think I would've written an enemies to lovers story, specifically focused on the reader never really getting over what Jamil did to them in Book 4 and him sensing that. I think for Jamil, despite knowing exactly how much you dislike him, can't help but slowly fall for you. You're...an idiot, there's no other way to put it, but he's surprisingly fond of you still, so perhaps he's also an idiot.

You're not dumb in the way he's grown to see Kalim, but you share a similar naïveté that is more endearing when it comes to you. You don't take the bullshit from others and are blunt regardless of your peers' social status. Blame it on you not being born in his world, but he wishes he could be so blunt, so open, so free like you.

It's in the way you smile at someone as intimating as Malleus, the way you speak bluntly at someone like Vil, the way you bring Kalim down to reality with your brashness. Leona even remarks at how you try to roughhouse with him, badly mind you as you'd get bruised from the play fighting.

There's just something that makes him jealous with how you treat these royals and socialites like they're just some person you know. At first, he thought he was jealous of how no one retaliated against you. Kalim wasn't surprising, but the others? They found it amusing, charming even, and were happy to let you be for the most part.

Jamil is jealous that you can be carefree with others, something that would have dreadful consequences on him and his family if he were to do the same. But the longer he watches you, and the more you soften up to him as the months pass by, the more he realizes that he's jealous of them. He's always been envious of people like Kalim, though he hates to admit it, but this is a different kind of envy.

He's not that stupid though, Jamil knows he's jealous because he wants to see you act like that with him. He wants that smile you give Malleus on him. He wants that blunt way you speak to Vil to instead fill his own ears. He wants the brashness you give Kalim to be his instead. He wants you to roughhouse with him instead of Leona, to give you those bruises instead.

Bruises that he can kiss, that he can soothe, that he can ghost his thumb over as he imagines the way you look up at him with soft reverence in your eyes. He imagines you on your knees, he imagines you underneath him, he imagines your skin meeting his lips, he imagines you uttering those three words to him, and him only—

Oh. Oh.

Jamil has an entire summer to deal with his feelings, to figure out just how he wants to go about this. When he comes back, after you've developed your telepathy, he's confused as to why you are suddenly so...shy around him. You, who used to be a bit catty, a tease, things he liked about you. Now? You can't even look him in the eye, like you know something. Your eyes darting everywhere but his face, always putting space between you two, even going so far as to ensure that you two are never alone.

What happened to his Prefect? The one who would bicker with him, the one who would stick their tongue out at him when he pasted by, the one who'd call out his sly words and joke that he really was like his namesake—a snake.

He's wanted very few things in life that he could actually have, and he wants you. So sue him if he decides to make it his mission to bring you back to how you were so that he could have the challenge of winning your heart. It won't be satisfactory otherwise, it's too bad he's unaware that even thought he has passes through your mind, making his goal much, much more difficult.

[lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hello Genshin fandom 🥺👉👈, how y'all doing? This is actually my first real time writing for this fandom but I've been reading so much sagau fics and they are all so cool that I wanted to write something too. Not really sure if I'm going to start writing for genshin but we'll see. Hopefully this is good.

"So... This is how it ends?" A last whisper leaves you as a coppery taste invades your mouth, a strangled half laugh escaping from your blood wet lips.

It was tragic. Still, a little comic how golden blood escaped from the giant wound in your stomach caused by Zhognli's spear. The whole world thought you were an impostor, someone worth killing and now time seemed to stop. The clocks hands stoping moving, the sand stopping falling inside the hourglass.

For a moment everything was static, unmoving, not even breathing.

The whole world was shaking, the winds started howling. You looked at them, eyes moving from face to face. And they had the audacity to look shocked, pale, nervous and anxious as you were dying.

The adrenaline had reached its peak, making any and all pain bearable, painless, but with an injury like that you knew what the result would be. You laughed again. After running away for so many months, being cold and hungry, and only knowing fear, you let everything you felt come out of your chest before your death.

You laughed till your eyes were blurry with tears. Tears filled with pain and hatred. You laughed till your throat was hoarse, the sound stretching till it was all but a hiss.

"Your Grace!" You heard Venti's panicked voice, smug smile wiped from his face as he had the audacity to come closer. Though he was far too coward to touch you, he fumbled anxiously. "No... How could this happen?"

Yeah, how could this happen? You thought bitterly. You were isekai'ed to this world but you were ok with it. And then the characters you used to love and cherish started hunting you.

All because of some kind of creator. You didn't even knew there was a creator in the game? There was one? You can't remember. Skipped dialogues, playing it through drowsiness, not reading the books. There was plenty of lore you could have missed.

It was too late now.

"Use your futile head once, bard." Was your reply, dry tone making him wince. "Write me a song while you're it."

"We thought..." Ei started. But a glare from you had her silent in seconds, imponent Shogun Ei trembling under your eyes.

"You thought but you didn't ask me for clarifications, you didn't let mm..." You coughed blood, a pool of golden coating your clothes and feet.

"You Grace!" Zhongli screamed, alarmed.

Your body became weak and you fell forward, your knees weakening and small tears running down your star like eyes, Zhongli held you, so delicate and with so much love. Once, you used wished for him to hold you like this, for him to cuddle you and share all this knowledge with you over tea but now it just left a sour taste on your mouth while you looked at those ambar eyes as the minutes go by.

"Please, don't leave..." A cry from Ei's wounded soul. Followed by Venti's regretful tears.

A god of freedom took the Creator's freedom, deprived them of it without using his mind like he used to do. And the goddess of eternity was sentenced a spend eternity alone, without her sister, her son, her creator...

Zhongli lips were moving, you could feel the vibration of his voice reverberating through his chest where your head rested. But the words became blurred and their meaning was lost.

The wind was swaying your hair so gently, caressing your face with its smooth invisible fingers.

In his arms, you died.

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 5 * mv1

max knows how much you hate thunderstorms, and he can't help but think of you when he's home and there's one

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: nothing~

notes: some might say i'm using midnights as a way to cope with my rough breakup from like 7 months ago but i can't be too sure (oversharing is my personality)

(prev) // (next)

max had been on his driving simulator playing a game when the rain started to pour about 10 minutes ago. he didn't even realise that it had been raining that heavily until jimmy and sassy curled up by his lap.

now he's on the couch, both cats snuggled up into his thigh with the tv on. from the corner of his eye, he notices the crackling bright lights that break up the sky that’s often accompanied by a rumble.

it started off soft, but it’s gradually getting louder.

his mind starts to drift to you. max doesn’t imagine you’re sleeping well in these conditions - or that you're even able to. you’ve always hated thunderstorms in the middle of the night, claiming that all the ruckus is more disruptive than relaxing.

on nights like these, he would typically hold you tight in his arms. he would be sat up against the headboard while you lie on his chest, chatting with you as a distraction from the noise. on rare occasions, he would brush your hair until you’ve fallen asleep on him.

he wonders how well you’re coping with it now that he’s not next to you. he glances at his face-down phone, wondering if he should check in on you just for tonight.

it wouldn’t have to lead to anything — he just wants to make sure.

he just needs to ensure you’re not curled up into a ball in a corner with your hands on your ears. he can still remember it like daylight when it happened the first time.

it was your very first night in his apartment, and you’d both fallen asleep very early in the evening. at some point in the night, it started to rain heavily. a particularly loud thunder had shaken him awake but when he tried to pull you closer to his body, he realised you were no longer in bed with him.

he muttered your name and found you curled in the far corner of his bedroom. your knees were pressed to your chest, chin resting on top with your phone on the ground with a video illuminating your face. even with your airpods in, you still had your hands over your ears.

you weren’t crying, but you were definitely shaken up quite a bit. he managed to get you back into bed but you didn’t fall asleep for another 2 hours. so he stayed up with you in hushed whispers and muted giggles until you drifted off to sleep on his chest.

thunder rumbles, actually surprising him with its intensity as he juggles his phone from falling on sassy. even his cats flinch at the loud sound and snuggle even further into his thigh.

now he’s growing even more concerned about your whereabouts. when there’s a thunderstorm and you’re apart because of his race, he tries to call and talk to you until the storm has passed.

but it seems that he’s lost that privilege to ask if you’ll be okay tonight. he doesn’t even know if you’d answer his message.

the paranoia of your wellbeing never leaves, because he keeps glancing at his phone for a call or message from you. if you called him right now and asked him to come over, he would go to you without a doubt and another thought.

his phone lights up and buzzes, actually making his heart jump in his chest. the excitement immediately disappears when he finds out who the notification is from.

it’s just daniel, asking him if he’s doing fine over the break.

daniel hasn’t left him alone since his confession that night in qatar. though he was able to leave the bar on his own, the older driver was knocking on his hotel room door 10 minutes later.

daniel just hung in his hotel room until he fell asleep. max assumed that he wasn’t trusted to be on his own after a confession that shook daniel, because he was gone by the time he woke up the next morning.

max has tried asking alexandra about you, once after the main race in qatar. but she just shook her head and gave him a weak smile before walking away. charles could only mimic his girlfriend's response with a pat on his shoulder, promptly moving on to talk about other things.

nights like these, max usually sleeps peacefully. unlike you, rain and thunderstorms mixed with the darkness of the night calm him. since your distaste for the combination, he has learned to enjoy it differently.

he loves the late-night conversations he shared with you and having your weight on him. he misses the intimacy of just lying in the dark room with you, talking and mapping out your future together.

your future. your future that suddenly seems like a blurry hallucination, once being the only thing that he would look forward to when he would think about the course of his life. your future that's now obsolete.

max doesn't fall asleep at a reasonable time that night. he waits for the weather to calm and everything to go silent before he does. it's his way, on his own, to feel like you're still here with him. even if you're not.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold

[ikementally-deficient]

Advice On Writing

I have a couple of writing friends who keep asking me for advice (which is extremely flattering and I love to infodump, please don't stop), but I thought getting my thoughts down on the metaphorical paper and putting them out into the world might be helpful for others as well.

I mostly had fanfiction in mind when I wrote this, but honestly I think the vast majority of it will be applicable to any kind of creative writing.

I would love to get feedback or have conversations about this, so if you want to squawk at or with me, please don't hesitate!

The Bare Minimum

Write

Write as often and as much as you can. If you manage to do nothing else on this list, just writing consistently and continuously will eventually improve your skills, even if it takes a long time.

The Basics

2. Read

Find things you enjoy, and read them. Read as much as you have time for. Things that speak to you and make you feel things (words, turns of phrase, tropes) will all work their way into your subconscious and feed your own writing.

3. Read Critically

Re-read the things you enjoy, and consciously think about why you enjoy them. Why did this scene manage to express such a clear sense of desolation? What about this interaction between characters made me relate to them so much? How did this story give me such a sense of satisfaction and coming full circle? Highlight the phrases you really love. Look for and circle the small details that foreshadow later developments. Identify the things you don’t like as well (nothing is perfect). How would you have done this differently? Do you hate the purple prose, or is it killing you that these scenes aren’t more detailed? Look up the words you don’t understand - maybe the author chose their words poorly, or maybe you’re one of the lucky ten thousand who gets to learn a new vocabulary word today.

The Cringe Parts

4. Ask for constructive criticism

This part is really hard, but vital. While you will inevitably find some of the weaknesses of your own writing, you won’t find all of them. An outside perspective is invaluable. If you’re frightened of constructive criticism, start small. Ask one person to look at SPAG (spelling, punctuation, and grammar). Pick one paragraph or scene to show someone and ask them how it flows. Have someone review your outline for plotholes instead of giving them prose. Brace yourself for things you don’t want to hear. Sit with any and all criticism for a few days before reacting. It’s okay to decide that someone just didn’t get what you were going for, but make sure that’s actually true instead of just a knee-jerk reaction to hurt feelings or a bruised ego. Listen to what your reviewer or beta is actually saying - ‘this part confuses me’ doesn’t mean your writing is bad, it means that your head holds the entire picture and you just didn’t put enough of that down on paper so your reader can see it too.

5. Re-read your own work

Every once in a while, go back and see how what you wrote six months ago or last year holds up. You’ve been writing for a while, you’re a stronger writer, so give yourself the perspective of seeing how far you’ve come. And see if there are any weak areas that are still giving you trouble; you can focus more on those in your next piece of writing.

6. Edit for other people

Editing is a skill. No one falls out of the sky able to give useful and actionable feedback. The act of reading and criticising something you have a little cognitive distance from is far easier than criticising your own work, but it’s still a muscle you need to build. Start with basic proof reading (SPAG). Ask questions: “Why did you choose this word, it seems obscure?” Explain your feedback: “I can’t tell who’s speaking here, I think the dialogue went back and forth one too many times without a tag.” Instead of “I don’t like this,” explain why: “This description feels like something I’ve seen too many times already and feel cliché, but I bet you can change it up.” Learning to give that feedback in a kind and helpful way is something you can bring back to your own writing. Remember that if someone asks you to beta read or edit their work, they too are trying to get better. Don’t just blow sunshine up their ass, give them the respect of being honest about elements that aren’t working. Just don’t be an asshole about it. 

Some resources on being a good beta reader - these also are handy guides for writers on how to communicate their needs effectively to a beta reader:

How to Be a Great Beta Reader and Give Helpful Feedback (dianaurban.com)

What makes a good beta reader? (smallbluedog.com)

Tips on how to beta read, from a beta reader : FanFiction (reddit.com)

Advanced Class

7. Try new things

Try a different format. If you mostly write long, multi-chapter works, aim for a short story. Write some poetry. Change up your genre. Consciously try to imitate someone else’s style. Stretch out of your comfort zone. Feel like you write too much descriptive detail? Force yourself to write nothing but dialogue, like Isaac Asimov. Feel like your characters are always floating in empty space? Indulge in some Robert Jordan, down to every detail of what the characters are wearing. This is going to be difficult, and the results might not be something you want to share publicly, but it’s still worth the effort.

8. Read about writing

There are university courses on this stuff. Check your local library for a copy of the Little, Brown Handbook - it’s aimed at academic writing, but it’s a great resource on grammar and syntax and planning and revising your work. Look for fun ones like The Transitive Vampire and The Well-Tempered Sentence, or Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Centre for Fiction has a great list of books on creative writing by writers, and industry professionals (if publishing for profit is a goal of yours). 

Back to the Beginning

9. Keep writing

You might not be the next Stephen King, or Jude Devereaux, or Isaac Asimov. Cool, me neither. You don’t have to be. As long as writing is still giving you joy, keep doing it.