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sophie-looks-at-stuff · 8 months ago

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As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist.��

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily.

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head.

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war.

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen.

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house.

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word.

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked:

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.”

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms.

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock.

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap.

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night.

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting.

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so.

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–”

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

“Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed.

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips.

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release.

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours,

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop.

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations.

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case.

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice.

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you.

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours.

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips.

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms.

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away.

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter.

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader smut #smut #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #hotd aemond #smutty smut smut #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #love this man #god i love him #aemond x reader #prince aemond targaryen

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hotchner-edu · 7 months ago

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The Bet | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: The team bets Aaron that he won't be able to find himself a date for Dave's annual summer barbecue. Little do they know, he's already got his eye on you.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x F!BAU!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Hotch being perfect

It's half past ten, the smell of paper and brewing coffee permeates through the bullpen, and your eyes were narrowed at the small little circle surrounding Emily's desk.

"Okay, I'll bite. What are we talking about?" You finally lean over to ask, rolling your eyes fondly when Derek flashes a mischievous grin at you. He had been giving you numerous glances over the past ten minutes to try and draw your attention, possessing the giddiness and subtly of a puppy.

"Rossi's barbecue is next week." Emily muses, a bright glint in her eyes.

You nod slowly and cautiously, not sure what you were walking into. "Right..." you drag the word out a bit. "And? What are you planning? You only have that kind of smile when you're up to something, Em."

"Well, Rossi's making plus one's mandatory this year." Derek says with a sly grin, crossing his arms as he leans back against Emily's desk.

You raise your eyebrows and glance to Spencer. "Oh? And we're all in agreement with this new rule?"

"I believe Rossi's exact words were 'you people need to get out more,' so..." Emily laughs softly, shrugging as if his words had become law.

Spencer frowns a little and nods. "He also said that it would be good to bring someone we actually like and know because 'a man who doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.'"

"Did Rossi really just quote the fucking Godfather at us." You deadpan and glance over to Emily who raises her hands up and shrugs again. "Okay, fine. Now I'm a bit scared to ask, but why are you guys laughing?"

Derek smiles brightly before answering with an amused tone. "Because this means Hotch has to bring a date too. Rossi's already made a bet with him that he won't be able to find a date, and we're all getting in on the action too. Losers owe a hundred each."

"Wow, Rossi's not wasting any time. So, what did you guys bet on?" You ask with a near unimpressed tone and raise an eyebrow.

Spencer glances between the three of you guys before giving you the Sparknotes version. "Well, the three of us are betting with Rossi. Penelope's still deciding, and we haven't gotten to JJ yet."

"Well, I'll bet you twenty that JJ decides to sit out on this. I mean, guys, please, are you all really convinced that Aaron Hotchner of all people can't score himself a date?" You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed by the wit of your three friends.

You have to refrain from speaking further, knowing it'd turn into a spiel of how attractive you thought your unit chief was. Plus, you weren't trying to deal with them profiling the HR nightmare-sized crush you harbored for Aaron.

"You're going against the grain, sweetheart?" Derek chuckles, lips tugged into an excited grin.

Emily shakes her head and interjects. "Okay, but there's no way he's going to be able to get a date before the party. He was hand delivered like two weeks worth of paperwork this morning."

"It's Hotch. He's full of surprises." You grin, glancing around the bustling bullpen. "And anyway, you guys already have dates?"

Derek clicks his tongue and nods with a pleased smirk. "Yep. You guys remember Savannah, right?"

"Oh yeah, I like her." Emily chimes in before groaning and leaning back in her chair. "Ugh, I don't know if my guy is going to be busy."

You shake your head and smile, teasing her with a sympathetic tone. "Well, if he has any sense, he'll drop whatever he's doing to come with you."

Emily flashes a grin at you, silently telling you that she'd talk to you later about outfit details. Spencer is lost in thought for a second before you see him frowning.

"Spence?" You ask slowly, tilting your head.

He hesitates for a moment before looking at the three of you. "Do you guys think Rossi will let me in without a date?"

"No." Rossi's voice suddenly rings out as he walks by, blowing on his steaming coffee to hide his grin as he beelines to his office.

Derek snickers and claps his hand over Spencer's shoulder. "There's your answer, kid."

Later that day, you're hunched over your desk and nursing your headache with a cup of tea as you read through some reports. Just as you were about to reread the paragraph you zoned out on, you hear your name being called.

Raising your head up and blinking away the blobs swimming across your vision, you see Aaron standing in front of his office door, hands on the railing as he eyes you. "My office."

Standing up slowly, you feel your muscles aching as you stretch a bit. When you've made your way into Aaron's office, you see him leaning back against his desk, arms crossed.

"Yes, sir?" You ask and slowly come to a stop in the middle of his office.

"You've heard about Dave's party next Saturday, yes?" He asks lowly, eyebrows drawn together.

Nodding in confusion, you wait for him to continue.

"And his terms for the night?"

"Uhm, yes, I have. Is this about the bet being made, sir?" You prod gently, wanting to know if he was trying to sleuth out who was betting what.

"Yes." He answers with an unyielding gaze, looking unsure of himself for a moment. "I was wondering if you had someone you were going to bring."

"Oh." You blush a little and smile smally. "No... A lot of us are still trying to find dates."

Aaron huffs in amusement and nods. "Yeah, Dave's really stepping on our necks this year."

"He just wants an excuse to cook more, I'm sure." You chuckle softly.

"It wouldn't be the first time..." He smiles before clearing his throat and straightening up again. "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me that evening as my plus one." He says, looking at you gently.

It feels like the wind is being knocked out of you as you stare at him owlishly. "Me?" You ask dumbly.

"Yes, it's okay if you would prefer not to though, I know this is very sudden." He reassures you.

Blinking rapidly, you see the slightest bit of pink creeping across his ears. "Oh, no, I would love to be your date for the party." You answer quickly, not wanting to let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

"Really?" He says with a bit of relief, the stress immediately dissipating from his face.

You nod and smile shyly, fiddling with your fingers. "Yes. I'm happy that you thought of me."

Aaron nods back and tries to compose himself a bit. "Of course... and I'm happy that you agreed."

Grinning softly at him, you chuckle a bit. "Well, I'll call you this weekend so we can settle the details, if that's okay..."

"That's perfect." He answers quickly, his eyes warm and filled with an indistinguishable emotion.

"Great! Well, I'll, uh, leave you to it then." You slowly back out of the room, shooting him a reassuring smile and fleeing back to your desk in disbelief.

When the night of Rossi's party finally turns up, you're anxiously pacing around your apartment, checking your outfit for the fifth time. Aaron had insisted on picking you up, ever the gentleman.

Time trickles by slowly, and when you finally hear a gentle knock on your door, you're practically flying toward it. Checking the peephole for a split second, you swing the door open and your eyes immediately dart down to the bouquet of roses in Aaron's hand.

"Oh!" You sputter out in shock, taking a moment to gather yourself. "Wow, they're beautiful. Thank you..." Blushing brightly, you smile as he hands you the bouquet.

"You look beautiful." He speaks gently, but his gaze is intense as he takes you in.

"Thank you. You look amazing..." It's clear that you're a bit flustered as you hurry to quickly put the roses in a vase, eyes continuing to flicker to his figure in your doorway.

He was in a black button up that hugged his arms and torso in ways that had you almost faceplanting with every step.

You're amazed that you manage to make it down to where his car is parked without your knees giving out as his hand ghosts over the small of your back the entire trek there.

He opens the passenger door for you and waits for you to get in before gently closing the door. It was driving you up the wall how gentle and warm he was being, and you almost wanted this to be a real date.

As he drives you both to Rossi's mansion, you speak softly to him, trying to ignore the way he steers with one hand on the wheel.

"Spencer texted me yesterday. He's bringing a girl he met at a coffee shop." You smile softly, meeting Aaron's gaze as he rolls to a stop at a red light.

"Really? That's good." He responds quietly, smiling fondly at the mention of Spencer.

"I know. He was worried about it all week, but I don't think he realizes how many women are attracted to him." You chuckle softly, nodding subtly toward the windshield as the stoplight turns green.

Aaron nods and grows quiet. A few minutes of silence pass before he speaks up, voice laden with nerves. "I'm grateful that Dave made the bet."

"Really?" You respond in surprise, wondering if it was because he was going to be a couple hundred dollars richer by the end of the night.

"Yes because it gave me the push I needed to finally ask you out."

Your lips part a bit at his words, butterflies swinging around your stomach and buzzing to the tips of your fingers. "Aaron?"

"I don't want tonight to continue with the pretense that I only asked you out to win the bet." His voice is mellow and growing more confident by the syllable, eyes occasionally flitting to yours as he drives on the highway. "I've admired you for a long time as an agent and a friend... and it didn't take long for that to turn into something more for me."

"Why are you telling me this now?" You muster up the courage to ask, leaning a bit closer to the center console between your seats.

"Because I realized these feelings were only growing everyday I saw you. Even if it's selfish, I want to be honest with you." He braves another glance at you.

You let out a heavy breath full of relief as you smile brightly at him, the setting sun casting a glowing pool of pinks and oranges across your beaming face. "I like you too, Aaron. I have for a long time as well."

Aaron's free hand reaches for your hand, and you happily let him tangle his fingers with yours. It was clear that nothing more needed to be said between you both, the connection between your hearts growing stronger with every ounce of relief and adrenaline that filled you both.

The feeling of his calloused hand in yours keeps a buzzing warmth coursing through your body for the rest of the drive.

When you pull up to Rossi's opulent house, neither of you notice the curtains of the window by the front door moving as your team take turns peeking outside when they realize Aaron's car has arrived.

Aaron walks with you to the front door with his arm around your waist, a bright glint in his gaze as he's radiating unadulterated joy.

Neither of you even pretend to be sheepish when the door swings open and Penelope's squeals meet your ears, everyone piecing together the puzzle when they see Aaron holding you close.

"We were starting to think you both got lost." Rossi's voice rings out as he chuckles and beckons you both in, looking at Aaron with an impressed smirk.

"Thanks for having us, Dave." Aaron grins, squeezing your waist before loosening his hold to let Penelope tackle you in a hug, Emily and JJ's enthusiastic questions not far behind.

"When did that happen?" Emily gapes, excitedly poking your side and raising her eyebrows.

You hug JJ and answer her from over JJ's shoulder. "The day you all made the bet. I told you guys that Aaron's full of surprises."

"Remind me to never bet against you in the future. Well, someone get Derek over here." Emily shakes her head in disbelief as you all slowly migrate toward the kitchen.

Aaron's hand finds yours again as you triumphantly smile, "Oh right, I hope you all brought your wallets! It's time to pay up."

"My man!" Derek's voice echoes around the house as he emerges from the wine cellar, beaming at Aaron. "Where's your date?" He asks, clearly unaware of the proximity between you and Aaron.

Aaron holds up your joined hands and chuckles. "I think this means I win?"

Morgan nearly drops the bottle of wine in his grip as he swivels his head for a double take at you both.

Rossi leaps toward Morgan, arms extended forward as panic seeps into his eyes. "Careful! That's 1860 Madeira!"

Morgan groans and lets Rossi wrestle the bottle from his grip. "Will you ever let us win at something, man?"

Aaron's chest rumbles with a chuckle as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb and shakes his head in amusement. "Not a chance."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds aaron #aaron hotchner fic

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wasteddmoondust · 10 months ago

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little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #zee writes

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ervotica · 1 year ago

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smut 18+, nudes & videoing of masturbation, nsfw

Rafe is a menace and he knows it.

You weren't expecting many messages from him tonight; you know he's at some sort of formal family event with Ward, so he'll be spending the evening bored out of his mind, most likely.

You're at the Chateau, sitting cross legged on the couch next to JJ when your phone pings. You open your messages and the video starts to automatically play. It's dark at first and then the camera pans to Rafe's hand, gold signet ring gleaming in the harsh light of the bathroom. His fingers clench tightly around the buckle of his belt and he fumbles with it until it unclasps and falls away from his slacks.

He groans, deep and long and loud, and you shriek, jumping up from your seat and turning off your phone.

"What was that?" JJ asks, and you wince.

"Nothing! I'll be right back."

You excuse yourself to the bathroom and then resume the video. The button of his pants pop open and his hand delves in, freeing his already hard cock; it’s red and angry, the mushroom head leaking precum as he grips it tightly at the base. Your eyes flutter, hooded as you watch intently.

What you wouldn’t do to have your mouth on him right now.

You hear him spit into his hand and then he’s stroking himself, wrist twisting the way you know he loves, that has his mind bending and muscles drawing tight. The wet schlick of a mixture of precum and saliva hits your ears as he moans and gasps, babbling nonsense.

“Baby, need you so fucking bad,” he breathes, heavy and ragged and desperate. “Come here, please. Wanna feel that tight little cunt round me.”

Your thighs unconsciously clench and rub together, desperate for some sort of stimulation as you watch your boyfriend get himself off so beautifully. The veins in the back of his hand protrude, his knuckles white and his dick flushed a deep shade of purple as his hips start to rut to meet his own strokes.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans, “Baby, c’mon. I want you now.”

And then the video stops.

You whine, thumbs moving as fast as you can think as you message back.

5 minutes. Don’t you dare come without me.

You’re out of the house in a flash of light, stumbling through the door as JJ shouts after you.

“What the hell, dude? Where are you going?”

“Sorry!” you shout back. “I’ll see you later. I have to go!”

“Remember to use protection!” he laughs, mimicking some sort of lewd gesture you’d rather not have seen.

“I hate you.”

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palskippah · 6 months ago

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Hi! Over the last few months I've made these drawings of my Goldenheart fankid :D

He's Cyrus Goldenheart and he's my newest coolest baby and I love him very much.

Some stuff about them under the cut! And also other things and more drawings sjsj

-First off, know that Cyrus is his English name, because in Spanish he's Ciro Goldenheart- because Ambrosius is Ambrosio in the hispanic dub and that's very cool (also, I'm glad they didn't change Ballister's name to Trabuco and just left it as Ballister askdjsa)

-Also, I love the headcanon that in this universe family names come from the mash-up of last names to whatever sounds coolest. So Ballister and Ambrosius picked the last name Goldenheart (they could've been Boldloin but both were like hell no- And in Nimona's humble opinion, they were cowards)

>ALSO did you know that in the Latin Hispanic dub Ambrosius calls Ballister 'Balli' instead of 'Bal'? It makes it seem much more like a pet name and I love it.

>Also, headcanon that Ballister calls Ambrosius 'Ambrosito' when he's being particularly corny. (It works as a diminutive of his name with the -ito but also, osito means 'little bear' in Spanish, so it's a very cool pet name)

>Also, Ambrosoli, because that's a Chilean candy company, and I think it's funny.

>Now, since they're famous as knights and whatnot, imagine that Goldenheart was the name in which their fans referred to them as a couple- (I know that Balli had been considered a villain and an awful person and stuff after being framed, but I bet his fans came back after the movie ending and whatnot :''v) and then they got married and became the Goldenhearts for real, and people were like YEAH WAHOO bc they love them.

-Years after the movie, and after Nimona coming back and all the fixing their relationship thing, they got married and all, and had planned to adopt a kid some years later (because Ballister didn't want to have any babies himself), but then they found out they were expecting and were like 🧍🧍 (maybe my guy got too nervous and made the wettest wet cat eyes ever and that made Ambrosius be like Balli, it's okay, don't worry D: let's talk about this)

>Anyways there was the thing of do we have them or not, and then they had a conversation, like:

(Ballister, still with his puppy-under-the-rain eyes) "...do you want them?" (Ambrosius makes some noncommittally noises) "Do you?" "But do you?" "But do you? You should decide" "Yeah- I just want to know your opinion." "Yeah, but it's your body." "Yeah, but I wouldn't raise them alone, both of us would. Do you want a baby right now?" "But I don't want my opinion to affect your opinion, because you would have the baby and I know how you feel about that and I don't want my decision to affect your decision because it should be your decision... So, what's your dec-?" "For Gloreth's- Stop saying decision! (Ambrosius' stupid attempt at lifting the tension was successful, because Ballister's laughing) Do you want them, yes or no?" "Yes I do, but only if you want them too, and if you don't that's alr-" "I think I do!"

>Then, later that day, there's Ambrosius' like, so... are we going to have a baby? (doubtfully) and Ballister's like I don't know :( (apologetically, because he genuinely doesn't know pipipi)

>So anyways, after some more days of thinking (because he had the final say in it, of course), Ballister's like yeah let's have them and they're both like WOO WE'LL HAVE A BABY :D, and Nimona's like HA! You'll get huge! And congrats too, I guess, when she's told.

>And then like eight months go past and Nimona's like HA! I knew it! and Ballister's like shut the fuck up >:( I'm not in the mood right now and Nimona's like (waving her hands) fine, chill, boss. i'll make the joke later then. And Ballister stares blankly and goes ...thanks (y'know those silent stares he does like three times in the movie?) (I want to write down all the expecting headcanons I got but whwhwh)

-Ambrosius' like we have to name them something with C, so we're A, B and C :D and Ballister's like yeah :D! so they look for names with C, that's their only requirement.

-Ballister and Ambrosius had a long as hell list with names with C and whenever Balli was like hey we should decide on one soon, no? D: Ambrosius was like yeah let's pick one :D, but it never led to anything because they couldn't decide.

>As a placeholder they called the baby Baby and then forgot about choosing a name, and then they were the same day in the clinic/hospital going through the list while holding their very much already born baby and being like this one? no- or this one? what about-? and the problem with having so many options was that they couldn't decide on one.

>They weren't truly that much of in a hurry, because they could name him later, but still they felt guilty because they had had several months to have that ready (literally everything had been ready for their baby's arrival, except his name)

>Finally Nimona, after taking a small peek at their list, was like, y'know what? he looks like a Cyrus, he reminds me of the sun, (bc he was wearing soft yellows and stuff, maybe, and the bed's sheets in which Ballister was lying were a light blue) and both Ballister and Ambrosius looked at their baby and considered the name. So, he's named Cyrus.

-The news refers to him as Baby Goldenheart though. Very cute baby, the public agrees on.

>Then there's the debate of which dad he looks like the most, and baby pictures are pulled from years back and they're like LOOK (posts a pic of baby Ambrosius with his Gloreth's descendant mom) THEY LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL (and they actually do, same eyes and nose, same curlier hair and round cheeks)

>Then when he grows up, he actually looks too much like Ambrosius, but also a tad bit like Balli (it's the black hair and eyebrows).

-Even after he's all grown up, his family still calls him Baby instead of his name. And he knows that if either of his dads call him Cyrus is because he probably fucked up.

-I have a headcanon for Ballister's father, he looked almost just like Ballister but had a more hooked nose and curlier hair, but same big eyes, also had a beard and stuff. The thing is that Baby has black, curlier hair too and people think it's just like a combination between Balli's dark hair and Ambrosius' curlier hair BUT NO it's his grandpa's 😭 pipipi

(Translation) Blackheart (in my head he's Blackheart idk why ashjds maybe Boldheart had been his unmarried name, and Balli changed his to that alongside his name): My love, you're the prettiest girl with that cloak! <3 Kid Ballister: Abba, but I don't want to be the prettiest girl :c Blackheart, grabbing Balli's nose: The handsomest then! Kid Ballister: Hehe! (thinking about Bluey's laughter for this one pipipi)

>Also, know that Ballister's name was an inside joke between the two, were his abba had said he was his 'ballister' (the pillar that kept him upright) (they usually talked in Urdu, not in English, Balli had a better vocabulary than him from watching TV and going to an English-talking school), and Balli had burst out laughing, saying 'abba, it's baluster!' and his dad was like 'nope! I'm pretty sure it's ballister!' just to see his little girl still laughing.

>Anyways, then he got arrested and stuff and Balli changed his name to that, and then there's this moment a year later where, in jail, he sees his girl (now a boy) for the last time in the news, where they show him as he will start his training as knight and Blackheart's super happy because his son is actually alright (he had been worried sick about him all this time) and y'know, point is that he dies shortly after that and Ballister finds out years later when he tried looking for him D:

>(If you tell me but Kym, ballister is already the correct word, I'll tell you huh because I actually have no idea, you know I speak Spanish :'''v I tried translating Balli's name and it got corrected to baluster each time ajsdka)

>By the way, Ballister's scar over his eye is from when he had been like three and had fell against a sharp end, causing a slash and a lot of bleeding that had almost made Blackheart die from a heart attack. He had hurried to take him to the nearest health center, all while Ballister had been crying with his face all drenched in blood, and his dad had been genuinely thinking that his little girl was about to die from his carelessness (he hadn't been looking when Ballister fell).

>The slash over the eye is the reason he knows for sure that that's his child on TV, standing beside the Queen.

>Anyways, I love angsty headcanons with parents.

>Got another headcanon that Ambrosius got two moms, both don't spend much time with him from being too busy, but they love their son dearly (and y'know that Ambrosius' voice actor said that the Director was his parental figure? Maybe since his moms weren't around much, he started to look up to her as a mother and- wa, IT'S JUST I read a headcanon/theory (?) about the Director grooming Ambrosius for her benefit and it made a lot of sense 100/10).

>Ambrosius' moms are cool, although they did sort of force him to start his training to become a knight when he was of age to go into the Institute (he either went to knighthood or the family business, his knight mom (who's currently retired from knighthood and working at their family company) showed him her cool sword to lure him in, and his businesswoman mom showed him some colorful statistics- of course the sword won), but he ended up loving knighthood (despite everything), so he doesn't hold a grudge against that.

>(wait i remembered that Korean tradition of sitting babies of a certain age in front of objects so they choose one and that dictates how they'll be in the future? pipipi)

>Random headcanon, but Ambrosius is actually a blond and dyes some parts a darker color to achieve the cooler hairstyle. Also, the 'every descendant of Gloreth was/is/gotta be blonde' is interesting and gives place for analysis and stuff, but I've got this one where every descendant of Gloreth has somewhat of bunny teeth or a silly smile, and that's better in this case because I don't have to make Baby a blond- but his smile, when he's older, reminds Nimona of Gloreth's.

-Baby is a sweetheart with absolutely everyone. He smiles and coos nicely whenever people try to entertain him.

>Except with Todd. Whenever he sees him he spits up his milk and Ballister's pretty sure that it's a very weird coincidence, but Ambrosius and Nimona hold up a debate, convinced that the hate for punchable faces must be genetic and untaught, given that Todd had always been nice with Baby. Ballister throws Nimona a look and she says, my trauma, my jokes, Boss. And Ballister has to reluctantly agree and accept that he can't argue with that.

>Headcanon too that Ballister had called his father abba (looked it up and that's a fond way to call fathers in Urdu, if I'm wrong sorry :'v), until he was arrested and eventually died, so he taught Baby to call him abba too, and Ambrosius taught Baby to call him daddy, and even in adulthood he calls them that. And then there's Nimona who tried to teach him to call them Boss and Goldie, but she never succeeded.

(Imagine Nimona and Baby sat in front of eachother on the floor of the living room or something) Nimona, who had turned to look like Ballister, pointing at themself: Who am I? Baby: Abbababa- (he's a lil confused but he got the spirit, he's getting there in understanding askjdsad Ambrosius is currently Dadada) Nimona: No, Baby, Boss! Boss, say boss! :D Baby: Abbababa (happily reaching for him) Nimona: No, Boss! I'm your boss! (a cutesy tone) I'm Boss, Baby! Yeah, who's a cute baby? :D It's you! (then she got distracted and started playing with him)

-Nimona is Baby's sibling/cool aunt/mentor/bad influence/babysitter/something something. She's not a Goldenheart (and she doesn't want to be, she's just Nimona) but she's happy to be a part of their family anyway.

>They're the Goldenhearts + Nimona :''v

>Also yeah, Nimona is Ballister's sidekick/child/lil' sibling/friend/little menace/something something. The point here is that they love and care for each other very much <3

>Also, Nimona is Ambrosius' first ever, #1 hater, and he doesn't blame her for that. (They got a cool relationship though, like they like to bicker and wrestle with each other, and Nimona always wins because Ambrosius isn't very trained in fighting snakes, crocodiles or gorillas or any weird animal for that matter) Both love Ballister and that's sort of their main point in common, among other things.

-For a very long time, Baby had thought that in the world existed several pink creatures named Nimona, just as several adults named Daddy existed, and many kids like himself were named Baby. His Abba's the only one named that though, it seems. Then, when he's like three, he starts to realize that Nimona is just one person, and that apparently his Daddy and Abba's names weren't that. Abba's name wasn't even Boss, like he had suspected, and Daddy's wasn't Goldie. And then, as if that wasn't enough for the day, they tell him your name is Cyrus. Imagine his surprise.

-Baby is a daddy's boy for real and he loves both of his dads so so much :'v He also loves Nimona very dearly.

>He sees both of his dads being affective with each other and he copies that, as well as other things. Holds Balli's face to look into his eyes directly (he doesn't know that what Ambrosius does is just touch their foreheads together), he smacks his mouth against Ambrosius' face, harshly, and leaving him full of drool as he tries to bite him (doesn't know how to kiss yet, but when he figures that out he's always giving them), smacks Nimona's head with his little hands (he's trying to pet her hair, like he usually sees his abba petting the pink creatures) and all that. He's very sweet I'm telling you waa :'''v

-Ballister and Ambrosius try not to make Nimona take care of Baby too much, but Nimona herself looks for chances to take care of him.

>Also when he had been just born, of course Ballister and Ambrosius were all sleep-deprived and busy, so she would transform to look like either of them and Baby wouldn't tell the difference. If all, he was happy when all of a sudden there were two of either of his dads :''v

-Dumb headcanon that when Baby cried at night, they usually went 'ro-sham-bo' about it, and every single time they do the same hand gesture, and at the fifth or fourth (depending on how tired he is), Ambrosius will go ah fuck it >:( and just stand up himself to see what Baby needs. This happens way too much, and Ballister knows, and Ambrosius knows too. Baby doesn't but he's glad that every time he cries, it's very likely that his daddy will show up after a while.

-I'm thinking that Ballister would be that kind of dad that used to be afraid of holding his baby when they were a newborn, and then plays with them roughly when they stop being too fragile.

(Translation) First part Ballister (walking): Okay- Careful... (First day out of the clinic) Second part: Ballister: Do I throw him your way, Nimona? Nimona: Yeah, throw him!

-Ballister is one for darker clothes and all that, but when they found out about Baby, he started getting the most colorful clothes for them. Whenever he went out for whatever reason during those months, he came back with at least one piece of clothing, be it a onesie, a pair of socks, a hat, or some cute overalls. Baby's clothes drawer had already been overflowing with clothes just a few months before he had been born, and they had to get another one to fit in all the clothes because Ballister refused to stop getting more.

>Something something him only using darker clothes since he was a little kid and his dad not being able to afford him a bigger wardrobe and wanting to give Baby all the stuff he didn't have - thinking about my mom in this sense, she said she had bought me so many cute clothes when I was a baby bc she had had to share all her clothes with her sisters and their clothes had never been that nice bc of money and :'v

-Broskii I got more headcanons from when they were expecting Baby and I want to tell them all to you BUT I gotta make another post exclusively about that pipipi

-I know that the creator of Nimona said that the Institution most likely got dissolved, but I think this thing works as the cops and police of investigations and stuff, so maybe they didn't dissolve it, but rather stated new policies and values to be taught to the current knights and also to the future generations. And this change still takes a lot of time to happen but it does happen so- yippie ?

>Sorry I say this just so Ballister and Ambrosius can still be knights pipipi. Ballister is Sir Goldenheart and Ambrosius is Captain Goldenheart.

>With that, comes this thought that Nimona gave a knife to Baby once and was like, be free, my child! like taping a knife to a roomba, and then Baby used it like a sword and ran happily to show his dads that he too was cool and had a very big knife like they do when they use their shiny clothes.

>(debating this one bc yeah Nimona loves chaos and hurting people and breaking stuff but she definitely wouldn't like Baby hurting himself, but I still drew this waa I love when babies want to be like their parents)

(Papi means daddy)

-When Baby grows up, he isn't very passionate about becoming a knight (like Ballister had been) and neither of his fathers were keen on forcing him on knighthood (like it happened to Ambrosius), so he dosn't become a knight when he's older, and takes an interest in sciences (blitzmeyer mentioned?? I know her design was used for the queen, but I don't care I'll fit her here one way or another she's my fav scientist) and goes to college and all that, he also likes mechanics and overall stuff that Ballister likes.

>And it's definitely because his abba had been talking to him about this stuff whenever he could (because he loves this stuff, and even before Baby was born, and since they were supposed to talk to the baby so they could recognize their voices, Balli just rambled about this and that, and sometimes even narrated what he was currently working on and stuff :'''v Expecting Headcanons my beloveds)

>And both Nimona and Ambrosius are like: Yeah, see? Even he agrees (about him forgiving Ambrosius a tad bit too quickly, even if both knights had been manipulated and stuff), while Ballister doesn't know if to be exasperated that they don't let the topic go, or laugh because it's pretty amusing how offended Baby is in his behalf over something that happened nearly five years before he was even born.

>Eventually they have to explain everything that surrounded the whole thing and Baby feels actually a tad bit bad for getting as angry as he got at Ambrosius. He's like oops sorry daddy 🧍(I'm still petty though)

>Baby hadn't talked much until he was around three or four, usually just answering things or repeating stuff whenever his dads tried to teach him new words, but then one day he answered a very long rant from Ballister about animals (nerd, had said Nimona) with more animal facts and both Balli and Nimona were like :0 And since then Baby hadn't shut up, and he's always talking.

> Since they share interests, he and Ballister talk a lot about stuff (Balli is like nice, there's two of us now, because Nimona doesn't have it in themself to listen to him talk 23348 hours about one thing, and Baby actually responds with yapping of his own, unlike Ambrosius who is glad to attentively listen to him for hours but doesn't do much more than be receptive of the information most times pipipi) (y'know when someone is talking passionately about something that they like but you don't, but you're happy to hear them talk anyways? that thing sjdj)

(is yapping the correct word? Over at TikTok they use it as talking a lot, so I picked it from context, I hadn't really looked up if it's correctly used sdjksd)

-Baby is a simultaneous bilingual and learned English, Urdu and Korean from his dads and Nimona.

>With this, I'd think Ambrosius was one too (given that he was exposed to English and Korean since he was a baby), but Balli had had to learn English when he was past three maybe since his dad hadn't been very good at it and had mostly spoken in Urdu? Not sure how languages would work in the kingdom, but I guess it's the same as countries where there are different dialects or languages in different regions. (? La verdad no sé, toy chamuyando skjds)

-When he's 14 he gets a growth spurt as expected but then gets even taller than Ballister, and Nimona finds it hilarious (she got surpassed in height two years ago) And he was expected to be tall anyways because both his dads were tall too, but Ballister was like c'mon >:(

-When he got old enough and learned about the whole Queen's death thing, he spent the whole afternoon throwing Ambrosius angry looks, arms crossed and all. And after a beat of silence, he'd suddenly say: No, and you know what angers me the most? and then would ramble about literally everything the man had done wrong at that moment, all while Ambrosius himself nodded in agreement. Then Baby would say (to Balli): You forgave him way too quickly, abba, I would've burned his house down or- I don't know- but how?! And just like that?!

-Nimona was determined on teaching Baby all she knew, and Ballister was like yeah it's okay if he turns out like you, but turned out that Baby is the most chill kid ever actually, like he lacks this wish for mayhem that many kids have, like Nimona hoped he'd have (like she expected the antichrist/chucky or something). In execution, at least, because he has great ideas, if Nimona's willing to make them true.

Baby, about seven: Nimona, and what if *a plan in excruciating detail of the most deranged nature* Nimona: HEHE YEAH >:D Let's do it! Baby: No, but you do it :) Nimona: huh ??

>And this is because he knows that Nimona can do all this better and he thinks it's funny to watch her wreak havoc, while also not getting in trouble himself. (His dads tell him be a good kid and he's like yup I'll be a good kid c:)

-Nimona draws Baby like a little star because he's small (plus there's Ballister drawing over her drawings, thinking about him picking Nimona's drawing habits of scribbling on top whatever comes to mind)

(Nimona's saying: make your own drawings! while trying to push him away, and Ballister's laughing - their arms are like in a weird position that in my head made sense shdjdh)

-Plus here's a drawing of Nimona having cat behaviors (becoming a loaf anywhere) (ronroneo means purring).

>When Baby hadn't been born yet, she'd loaf right over Ballister's belly and simply sleep or make biscuits sometimes, and when he tried to take her off himself, she'd try to not use her claws but she'd grab against his shirt anyways, going BUT BOSS- Baby and me are chilling! And this translated as Nimona loafing on top of Baby whenever he's quiet enough, after he's born.

-I made another post about the comic versions of Ballister and Ambrosius on TikTok, and added a comic version of Baby too, following the logic on his current design (Balli's hair and eyebrows, Ambrosius' nose and eyes, and all that)

>'Papito Corazón' in other countries means a very good, diligent father (? I think), and at least in Chile is used sarcastically for men that are emotionally or financially neglectful with their children 😭 Comic Ambrosius is one at the beginning, but he becomes a better father later on, promise sdjsjd

>This Baby had a hard time recognizing Ambrosius at the beginning because they didn't spend much time together, and Baby has no object permanence yet.

>Anyway, Ballister and Ambrosius aren't a thing here, it was sort of a enemies-with-benefits kinda situation that led to Baby :'v

>(also know that I haven't read the comic yet, so if this seems ooc I agree with you, because I really don't know these characters askdjsa sorry)

-ALSO here's the first drawings I made of him before settling on this design, also it's from when I was trying to draw Nimona sjjs

>He had brown hair instead of black, but the rest is all almost the same.

And that's it so far!

If you read till here, I hope you liked it!

Have these sillies kissing, it's from a video I did 🧍 Ambrosius gives Ballister 23783 kisses and Balli gives him one (1)

Also, the limit for images is 30, which is a shame because I wanted to add more stuff sjdjsd I'll make another post if I compile enough drawings to make a big post, or make that post about them expecting Baby

(I love the Nimona mains so so much, they're 24/7 in my mind)

#nimona #nimona 2023 #goldenheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #my art #fankid #goldenheart fankid #almost everything was thought in spanish and posted first in spanish over at TikTok whwh #there's some stuff i didn't translate because I was too lazy sorry asjdakdj but I hope it's understandable anyways #headcanon that they're very much chilean and their kingdom is at the south of Chile asjkdadj #I don't make the rules sorry #oh also trans balli for the win #Is it too noticeable that he's my favorite? pipipi #also sorry I'm not sure how I should draw his robotic arm sjda looks different in each drawing

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revolutionary-thoy · 1 year ago

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And finally, to round out the main cast, we have Re-verse Sabrina and Zoe!

A lot of you have been asking about Sabrina and sharing your ideas. She's subject to change, but the current version of her that exists in my head is that this is a Sabrina that was never friends with Chloe and is more of like a Marinette equivalent of her world. Her dad recently lost his job as a police officer because he refused to cover up a crime related to the Supreme. Her family has been struggling financially ever since, and Sabrina has to work part-time jobs to sustain herself. I'm tossing around the idea of Sabrina working at Marinette's bakery, but I'm not super attached to it.

This version of Zoe was born in Paris and grew up along with her sister. Like I said in my Chloe post, the Bourgeois family is heavily involved with the Supreme and is basically trying to raise the next holder of the bee miraculous. Chloe and Zoe were constantly being pitted against each other by their parents, and their childhood was pretty much one big competition to see who gets to be the favorite daughter that'll be the Supreme's bee miraculous holder. Zoe was always the more rebellious daughter, and one day she had enough of her parents' control and ran away from home. Two years later, she returned to Paris with a completely new appearance, sporting tattoos, piercings and pink hair. Nobody is sure what exactly she did during the two years she was gone and her parents are still looking for her. She's currently living with Sabrina

And with that, we're done with the main characters! I might draw more characters like Felix and Nathalie, but they most likely wouldn't be involved with the "main plot", or they would just be the same as their canon counterparts. The next thing I'm planning is drawing kamikotized forms for the entire resistence, as well as transformed designs for everyone who has a miraculous. After that, I'll finally try drawing my interpretation of the Supreme.

Full re-verse lineup below!

#art #fanart #my art #miraculous #miraculous reverse #miraculous paris #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb fanart #miraculous world #miraculous fanart #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #reverse #miraculous into the reverse #zoe lee #chloe bourgeois #sabrina raincomprix

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justlemmeadoreyou · 8 months ago

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5. seasoned to perfection (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here) | (part 3 here) | (part 4 here)

Summary: Harry comes back, and the pent-up tensions and frustrations from the day you met are released, in the literal sense. he's vulnerable too, but it's for your eyes only..

Words: 6k+

Warnings: Fluff, Smut. P in v sex in the driver's seat 🤭, kissing, dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

***

Harry was back in Chicago two days later, just as he'd promised. A profound sense of relief washed over you the moment his broad-shouldered figure appeared striding through the airport terminal - he looked exhausted and careworn, but his stride was purposeful, that familiar spark of intensity simmering behind his hazel eyes.

Despite the lingering worry etched into the lines of his face, Harry flashed you a lopsided grin as he drew closer. "Well if it ain't my star pupil, coming to greet her mentor like the proper respectful protegee she is."

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, unable to suppress the matching grin that tugged at your own mouth. "Don't get too full of yourself there . I'm just here to collect on those celebratory drinks you promised."

"Is that so?" Harry's raspy chuckle sent a shiver down your spine as he closed the remaining distance between you. Up close, you could better make out the faint smudges of fatigue ringing his eyes, the weary set of his shoulders that hinted at the emotional toll this family crisis had already exacted.

"I sure am lucky you pulled through like a total rockstar the other night, darlin'," he said, voice softening with sincerity. "Don't know what kind of state my head would be in right now if that whole gala affair had gone pear-shaped on top of everything else."

You felt your chest constrict with sympathy at the undercurrent of weariness bleeding into his gravelly timbre. For all his towering self-assurance, it was still far too easy to catch glimpses of the profoundly lonely man beneath.

"Hey," you said softly, emboldened enough to reach out and give his forearm a reassuring squeeze. "It's gonna be okay, you know? One way or another."

"Yeah, I know," he acknowledged after a beat, hazel eyes crinkling faintly at the corners as he regarded you. Impulsively, Harry reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face in an unexpectedly tender gesture. "Thanks for being here, pet. I could use a friendly face right about now."

You felt your breath catch at the gentle rasp of his rough fingertips grazing your cheek as they fell away. A look passed between you, heavy with unspoken undercurrents simmering just beneath the surface.

Harry seemed to catch himself after a pregnant pause, giving a slightly brusque clearing of his throat as he took a half-step back. "Anyway, I'm betting you're just aching to hear all the dirty details about how your old mentor totally knocked it out of the park running my crazy-ass centerpiece for the gala, am I right?"

The teasing rasp was back in full force, but you could have sworn you detected an undercurrent of...flirtation? Nerves fizzing in your veins, you forced an answering grin. "Well, I definitely wouldn't say no to getting an extremely thorough debrief on all the specifics."

"That's what I like to hear," Harry chuckled, reaching down to snag your bag before you could protest. "C'mon then, let's get out of this madhouse. I'll fill you in on every juicy detail over a proper meal - hell, I might even let you buy me a congratulatory drink for once."

You rolled your eyes at his cheek but didn't object as Harry slung your bag over his shoulder and began leading the way out of the crowded airport terminal, one calloused hand at the small of your back guiding you through the milling crowds. The innocent point of contact still managed to raise gooseflesh along your skin.

"I hope wherever we're going has a full bar," you quipped once you made it outside, drawing a rich chuckle from your mentor.

"Have I ever let you down before on the booze front, darlin'? Though I gotta warn you, I might have to start cutting you off early tonight if you get too sloppy with the drinking."

You snorted indelicately. "Please, like your liver could even hang with mine these days. I'll be the one cutting YOU off before the night is over, old man."

"Old man?!" Harry's brows shot upward in mock outrage. "Well aren't you a cheeky little thing. Maybe I oughta just turn this reunion car right back around, huh?"

You grinned unrepentantly. "And deprive yourself of soaking up my full admiration for how flawlessly I executed your crazy dish the other night? I don't think so, Chef. You're stuck with me now."

A look you didn't quite catch flickered over Harry's face before his expression softened into something tender and...admiring? "You got me there, pet. I really am damn lucky I've got someone as fiercely dedicated and hardworking as you lookin' out for me."

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze as the valet pulled up a sleek black car. "C'mon then, let's go get that drink and hear all about how you made your old mentor proud once again."

With that, Harry opened the passenger door in a surprisingly gentlemanly gesture, making a theatrical play act of ushering you inside before circling around to the driver's side. Despite the lingering exhaustion evident in his features, an unmistakable lightness and sense of humor had returned to Harry's manner now that he was back in your company. You found yourself charmed all over again by his trademark swagger and grit.

Once Harry had pulled out into Chicago's hectic downtown traffic, he gave a weary but contented exhale. "God, I really did miss the hell out of this place while I was gone. Nothing quite like the thrill of the culinary world, am I right?"

"I'll say," you agreed easily, draining the last of your bottled water. "That whole gala evening was an adrenaline rush like none other."

"So go on then, darlin' - give me all the dirty deets from the frontlines." Hazel eyes glittered with renewed energy as Harry flashed you a wolfish grin. "Did Thomason end up being a totally insufferable hard-ass running the kitchen in my absence, or what?"

Unable to resist indulging him a bit, you launched into a play-by-play recap of how the evening had kicked off. "Well, I'll say this - your boy definitely mastered the art of brusque delegating from the moment I stepped through those doors."

"That definitely tracks," Harry chuckled in amusement.

You held up your hands in a placating gesture. "But honestly, he managed to not be a total nightmare for once. Sure, there were still barked insults and slews of obscenities flying around...but Thomason weirdly seemed more patient with me than usual."

"My best guess is that the hardass saw how much weight I was putting on your shoulders to make sure the night went smoothly," Harry supplied. "He knows damn well not to get in my way when I've got a white whale in my sights."

You felt an undeniable swell of pride at his matter-of-fact confidence in your abilities. "Well, whatever the reason, I can't deny Thomason at least made sure I got briefed on every single responsibility under my purview upfront. Nothing left out or unclear."

"Good, that's what I want to hear," Harry nodded in approval. "You damn well better have been prepped to the gills on every last particular after all the hours we spent running scenarios during practice."

"Oh he made sure of it, believe me," you assured him wryly. "I don't think my head stopped spinning from all the prep tasks and oversight duties he laid on me until we were halfway into evening service."

"That's my girl, always rising to the occasion no matter what fresh hell gets thrown your way," Harry said with unmistakable pride. His gaze flicked over to you with open fondness. "So go on then, I'm dying' to hear about the actual execution part. Did the crew and I at least have you guys trained up good to handle the intricate stuff?"

As if on cue, your mouth curved into a smug grin. "Does a flawless plating of your avant-garde centrepiece dish answer your question? Because let me tell you, Chef, those practice runs may have been hellish - but they paid off in spades. We didn't miss a single beat from start to finish on that thing."

Pride resonated in Harry's rumbling laugh. "Ha! That's what I like to hear. I knew I could count on you to hold down the fort and keep those yutz line cooks from falling apart under the pressure."

"Wow, you really are impressed, huh?" You couldn't resist teasing him a bit. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day where Harry dolled out such lavish praise."

Harry shot you a wry look, but his eyes were twinkling with amusement. "What can I say, you bring out the sappy side in me sometimes, darlin'. Must be all those gooey mentor-mentee feelings."

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. "Sure, keep telling yourself that's what it is. I think we both know the real reason you're so proud of me right now."

"Oh yeah?" Harry's voice dropped an octave, taking on that low, rumbly timbre that never failed to send a shiver down your spine. "And what's that, sweetheart?"

You felt your cheeks warm at the heated undertone in his words, suddenly very aware of the charged tension crackling between you in the confines of the car. Clearing your throat, you opted for a subject change. "So, uh, I have to ask - how are things with your mom? Any updates there?"

Harry's expression sobered instantly, some of the lightness dimming from his eyes as he readjusted his grip on the steering wheel. "It's...been a rough couple of days, that's for sure. But the doctors seem cautiously optimistic after running all their tests and whatnot."

He exhaled a ragged sigh, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the road ahead. "They were able to get her stabilized, at least. Still lots of treatment and recovery ahead, but...the prognosis isn't quite as dire as we initially feared."

"Harry." You reached over to cover his hand with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's such a relief to hear. I'm so glad she's going to be okay."

He glanced over at the contact, eyes flickering with some indecipherable emotion before he slowly turned his palm to lace his fingers through yours. The simple gesture felt impossibly intimate in the dim confines of the car.

"Yeah, me too, pet," Harry said gruffly. He fell silent for a long moment, seeming to struggle against the swell of emotion welling up behind his gruff exterior. When he finally continued, his voice had gone low and husky.

"I gotta admit, having to leave everything and fly out there on such short notice...well, it really puts a lotta stuff in perspective for me, you know? Reminds me that there's more to life than just the goddamn kitchen for once."

You felt your breath catch at the sudden vulnerability in his tone, the rawness shining through those rough-hewn features. This was such an unprecedented side of Harry - one you'd never seen him display so openly before. He wasn't the type to indulge in sappy feelings or put his heart on display.

And yet here he was, opening up to you in a way that felt profoundly intimate. Impulsively, you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, silently urging him to continue.

Harry's gaze was soft when he finally looked over at you again. "I've been so focused for so damn long on my career, on chasing that elusive Michelin star...putting in more hours at the restaurant than I do actually sleeping most weeks. It's been all-consuming, you know? To the point where I've let other important stuff get shoved to the back burner for way too long."

There was a weighty pause before he added in a quieter tone, "Stuff like...well, like relationships. Connections with people outside of the kitchen brat pack. Hell, even making time for my own family before it's too late."

His calloused thumb brushed over your knuckles, sending sparks skittering across your skin. "Being out there this week, it made me realize how much I've let slide while chasing my big culinary dreams. How many people and opportunities I've missed out on by being so goddamn single-minded about the hustle."

You felt your heart give a hard thud in your chest at his words, an undercurrent of meaning thrumming through every syllable Harry uttered. Was he actually...was this leading where you desperately hoped it was leading?

"I don't know, Y/N," he continued, voice going soft and rumbly in a way you'd never heard it before. "Maybe it's time I start setting aside room for more than just food in my life again, you know? Making space for the other shit that actually matters in the end."

Without warning, the car slowed before pulling over to the side of the road. You looked around in surprise, momentarily disoriented - only to suck in a sharp breath when you felt the warm press of Harry's palm cradling your jaw, gently but insistently turning your face towards his own.

His hazel eyes were turbulent but gleaming with unmistakable intent as they roamed over your features, seeming to drink in every last freckle and curve. "Like people," Harry murmured, deep voice gone even more rough and gravelly. "Important people who've been right there in front of me this whole damn time, just waiting for me to get my head out of my ass."

Your mouth went dry as his thumb brushed over the swell of your lower lip in a devastatingly tender caress. "You've been so goddamn strong for me lately, darlin'," he rasped. "Taking charge and killing it even when I had to bail on you guys. Honestly, I've never seen someone rise to an occasion like you did with that whole centerpiece service."

A surge of molten heat flared in his gaze as Harry slowly, incrementally leaned closer with every gravelly word. "Which just makes me wonder...what if I told you how crazy you've been driving me lately with that fierce, take-no-shit attitude and work ethic? How distractingly sexy it's been watching you come into your own in the kitchen?"

Coherent thoughts fled in the wake of his scorching words. All you could process was the heated intent burning from every line of his expression, the delicious timbre of his voice as one calloused palm slid around to cradle the nape of your neck.

Any remaining space between you evaporated as Harry drew inexorably nearer, heated breaths fanning over your parted lips. "Maybe it's time we both stopped ignoring this crazy tension that's been building between us, eh?" His words were nearly a growl, sending liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

"Tell me you want this as badly as I do, darlin'," Harry rasped, nose brushing against yours. "Tell me, and I swear to god I'll - "

Whatever devastatingly filthy promise he'd been about to make was suddenly cut off as you surged upwards to crash your lips against his in a heated clash of hunger and need. Harry made a noise of surprise that quickly morphed into a guttural groan as his big hands pulled you flush against his powerful frame, deepening the kiss with smoldering intensity.

All the frustration and undercurrent of want that had simmered untapped for months between you both finally found an outlet as his mouth slanted hungrily over yours. Harry tasted like smoky whiskey and roasted espresso, the scents you'd unknowingly committed to memory from hours spent shadowing him in the kitchen. Now you could finally indulge in the addictive flavor without restraint, losing yourself in the velvet heat of his lips and the wicked stroke of his tongue.

A desperate whimper escaped you as Harry's fingers wound through your hair, tugging just enough to angle your head for even deeper exploration. He swallowed the sound with relish, growling low in his chest as he took control of the ferocious give and take - a twin to the commanding yet sensual way he moved around the kitchen.

Time seemed to lose meaning as you kissed with reckless abandon, hands roaming wildly over the other's body. Your fingers brushing over Harry's hard pecs and rippling abs, committing every ridge and plane to memory. His calloused palms skimming over the flare of your hips, teasing at the sliver of exposed skin above your waistband as he tugged your shirts aside.

"Fuck," he growled, still cradling you tightly against his muscular frame. One hand drifted up the length of your spine to sift through your tousled hair, something breathtakingly tender. "Been wanting to do that for way too goddamn long, sweetheart."

You let out a shaky exhalation, riding the waves of tingling euphoria coursing over your skin. "Me too," you confessed in a huskier tone than you'd ever heard yourself use before. "God, Harry, I–” you stopped the rest of the words before they escaped your mouth, afraid you were going too far too fast. But he tilted his head downwards, raising his eyebrows and asking you to tell him whatever the hell you wanted to.

“I– say it, darlin’” he urged, swiping one thumb over your face, grazing it tenderly across the apple of your cheek, “No more secrets”

Eventually, the scorching inferno of desire raging between you banked to a low, smoldering burn...though no less devastatingly intense for the minor reprieve. Finally, you drew back just far enough for Harry to rest his forehead against yours, harsh breaths intermingling hotly.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and looking straight into his emerald eyes, “I–I, fuck, I need you, Harry. So–so fucking bad it–hurts”

You confessed, and the look that crossed Harry's face was one mixed with relief and the tiniest hint of lust.

You didn’t need to tell him twice because you barely had the time to catch your breath when he crashed his lips down on top of yours, claiming them once again. He slid so he was more close to you now, hands gripping the back of your head and keeping your face in place for him to kiss you hard. He had been waiting for this for so long–all the longing glances, the pent up, fucked up frustration in him–he was bearing all of it into the kiss that left your mind dizzy and lips swollen./

“Fucking exquisite”

He praised you, and you blushed into his mouth. It was all a blur after that–he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you from the passenger seat and maneuvering you into his lap. You lowered yourself down, the front of your jeans making a slight contact with the tip of his clothed cock, and the whine he let out was pure sin.

“Gonna make me burst”

He held on to your hips, kneading them in his palms as he watched you settle on top of him. You skillfully aligned his seat as abc as it could go, so he was almost laying down while you sat on top of him.

“THose hands–they aren’t just good in the kitchen, are they?” he teased, and since now you were on top, you were feeling more powerful.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his chest, smoothening your hands down his golden chest, “Wait till you see what else I can do with these”

He let out a gasp as you leaned in, licking up his abs, and kissing his butterfly tattoo. His hands slid to your waist, kneading the soft flesh in his palms and letting you admire and worship his body.

“Cheeky minx “ he said, but the words were swallowed into a groan as you sucked on his nipples, biting them softly and smirking when he rolled his hips upward. He was getting desperate, hips lifting up every now and then in need for relief.

You continued the onslaught of kisses, but wanted to give the poor millionaire some relief. You reached for the button of his pants, undoing it and unzipping his fly. Sitting back up, you pulled them down to his knees, and the sight of his boxers tented…his cock begging to be released from its confines made your mouth water.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He sat back up, making you fall back against the steering wheel but caught you just in time, resting his palms on your back. Once you were stable, he undid your jeans as well, wasting no time in pushing one hand inside.

“Oh fuck–Harry–” you cursed, and he could see it on your face–pure lust and arousal. He began to swipe his fingers between your lips, spreading the wetness around and finding your clit–expertly rolling the soft bundle of nerves between his fingers that had you curling your toes. He looked straight into your eyes while doing that too–watching you fall apart from just his fingers.

Once he was done teasing you, he circled his fingers around your entrance, which was completely, devastatingly soaked. You had been dreaming of this for so long–wanting this for so long that now when you were finally going to have him, it felt straight out of a dream.

“So fucking wet–all for me?” he asked, and you nodded, “All–all for you, chef”

“Fuckin’ tease” he cursed before pulling his fingers out, which were now covered in your slick and arousal, and pulling his boxers down, letting hsi cock spring free.

You had seen many cocks. In porn, in real life. But seeing his cock–thick and long, slightly curved towards the tip, which would make it the perfect fit for your needy pussy. The tip was a perfect shade of purplish-red, with a few drops of precum oozing out and making your mouth water once again. You wanted him in your mouth. And he did too, but right now, there wasn’t much time.

You lifted yourself up, pulling your jeans and panties down in one go, till they were near your knees just like his. Positioning yourself right on top of him, he gave his cock a few stroked before resting one hand on your hip. You placed your hands on his shoulders for support, and once your pussy was in contact, his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head.

But he didn’t push it in just yet–rubbed it back and forth between your lips, till your legs threatened to give out, and you squeezed his shoulder.

“Alright, no take backs–” he whispered, and aligned it with your hole, and you pushed yourself down on him, and fuck–was it worth it.

Once he was inside, your mouth fell open. You had been wet, and he hand;t prepped you too much because of it. But the sweet burn of him pushing it in fully–it fueled into your pain kink, and you bit your lower lip, getting up and lowering yourself down on him fully, till your hips were touching his heavy balls.

“So full, I–I feel so fucking full, Harry–” you told him, and he nodded, his adam apple bobbing. He pulled you down for another kiss, and using both hands, he began fucking you on him.

You moaned and screamed into the kiss, the tip of his cock kissing the back of your cervix, his precum leaking from his tip continuously. While you were sure you would be able to take the lead, giving up control and letting him use your body however he wanted–it made you feel really fucking good.

“Good, so fucking good, pet, so tight and snug around me, aren’t you? Could fuck you for days, I swear–”

You would get back at him on that promise for sure, later.

“Denied me of this sweet cunt for so long–gave me those fuck me eyes the first day you came into my restaurant.”

You tried to shake your head to tell him how that wasn’t true, but the words lodged in your throat. You didn’t know how you looked at him, he did.

“No–no Harry, fuck–, I–I wanted to–”

“Fuck me, hmm? The first day you saw me?” he teased, and you pulled his ear lightly.

“No, you dumbo. I–I wanted to push you against the counter and pin your hands beside you and–”

“And fuck me?” he finished your sentence once again, and to get back at him, you squeezed around him. You did it with all the strength you had, and you could swear you felt him harden just a little bit more inside you.

“And how is that different from what I said?” he asked, and you placed your hand over his mouth to shut him up. You tried to ride him this time, using his strong chest to fuck yourself up and down, till your wetness was pooling on the base of his cock. It was a wet mess–your arousals mixed together on the top of his thighs and you were positive it slipped through to the seat.

“Make me–make me cum, chef-” you said, and you felt him smile against your palm. You lifted it up, and he pinned your hands behind your back immediately.

“Chef, huh?” he taunted, and pulled you down for another kiss, halting for mere seconds before you came all over him–wetness oozing out and wetting his cock and balls. He pushed his tongue inside your mouth, the movements mirroring those of his cock in your pussy. It wasn’t long before he came too, emptying himself into your snug heat with a low groan.

He made out with you throughout–never letting your lips rest as his seed filled you up to the brim. The warm feeling had you dizzy, being filled up by the man you admired and wanted for years.

Once you were relaxed, tongues dancing in slow motions, he pulled out and pulled your panties back in place, saving his cum from falling into embarrassing places. You rolled your eyes at him, adjusting your clothes and sitting back on the seat beside.

His eyes gazed into yours with adoration, the car filled with the smell of sex and sweat. The lingering scent of finally giving into something that was building up since day one–it made you feel happy and vulnerable.

He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, letting his palm linger against your cheek in a tender caress.

"You know, I meant what I said before about not wanting to let this amazing opportunity between us slip away," he murmured, eyes shining sincerely. "After everything we've been through, you've become one of the most important people in my life, darlin'."

You felt your heart swell at his words, leaning into his touch with a soft smile. "And you're one of the most incredible men I've ever known, Harry. I'm just...I'm so grateful we finally took this leap together."

Chuckling warmly, Harry pulled you into a snug embrace, pressing his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss. "Well, you'd better get used to having me around then, sweetheart. Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

Reaching up, you cradled his whiskered jaw, marveling at how such a hardened culinary genius could look so endearingly unsure in the wake of baring his heart. A soft smile curved your lips as you stroked along the line of his cheekbone with your thumb.

"Harry," you began, keeping your tone low and earnest. "I just want you to know...what we share goes far deeper for me than just some crush or physical attraction. You've been such an incredible mentor, certainly - pushing me to my limits and helping me discover a resilience I didn't know I had. But more than that, you've also become one of the most important people in my life these past few months."

He seemed to still against you, holding his breath as he searched your expression intently. Encouraged by the yearning shining from those soulful hazel eyes, you pressed onward.

"From the very first day, there was just...something about the way you carry yourself in that kitchen, so passionate and uncompromising in your artistry. It inspired me in a way I've never experienced before. And as I got to know the man behind the chef's coat better and better, that admiration grew into something...well, something I couldn't ignore or push away, no matter how much I tried."

You gave a rueful chuckle, shaking your head. "Not that I'm proud of how I handled that, especially at first. I was so terrified of being just another young line cook with an embarrassing crush on the big-shot chef, you know? Of risking the most rewarding professional relationship I've ever had by letting feelings get in the way. So I tried my damnedest to squash it down and keep things strictly business between us."

Harry made a low noise of understanding, one calloused palm drifting up to cradle the side of your face with ineffable tenderness. The pad of his thumb brushed over your lower lip as he gazed at you with naked longing.

"But the more time we spent together, the more I came to realize I wasn't alone in what I was feeling," you continued, emboldened by the smoldering affection gleaming in his expression. "Those heated looks and moments of banter that always left me weak in the knees...the way you'd find any excuse to touch me, even if it was just your hand on my back or brushing my arm. And don't think I didn't catch that molten vibe you gave me after the gala service the other night, Harry."

You gave a breathless chuckle at the memory, watching in satisfaction as his eyes darkened perceptibly from the reminder. "Point is, it's been pretty damn obvious to me for a while now that this crazy, inexplicable tension has been building between us. And after tonight...after you pour your heart out about wanting to open yourself up to something deeper outside of just the kitchen...well, I knew I had to finally stop fighting it."

Cradling his rugged features between your palms, you gazed at Harry with profound sincerity. "I don't want to just be another protegee you take under your wing, Harry. I want...god, I want so much more than that if you'll have me. As more than just your mentee."

The silence that fell between you seemed to stretch out into infinite stillness - until finally, Harry broke it with a shuddering exhalation. His features softened into an expression of pure affection and naked vulnerability.

"Darlin'," he murmured in that low, gravelly timbre that had haunted your dreams. "I gotta say, you're one hell of a woman. Smart, fiercely passionate, and talented as all hell in the kitchen. Any chef in their right mind would count themselves lucky to have that kind of force on their line."

One calloused thumb brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead in an achingly tender gesture. "But the more I got to know you, the more I realized you were so much more than just a hell of a cook. You've got this...this fire inside, this core of unshakable integrity, that shines through in everything you do."

A slow, lopsided grin curved his mouth as Harry seemed to drink in your features hungrily. "Truth is, I've been half in love with you since the first time you went toe-to-toe with me over mise en place and didn't back down one inch. Kidfron called me out a while back, said I needed to get my head out and stop being an idiot about my feelings before I lost my shot with you. And you know what? He was right."

You heard the sharp breath you sucked in at his unexpected confession, suddenly feeling lightheaded from the rushing euphoria of having your own deepest desires affirmed. Harry's smile softened into something unbearably tender.

"I meant what I said earlier, about needing to start making room in my life for stuff that actually matters now," he murmured. "No more letting amazing opportunities or people slip through my fingers while I'm off chasing the next culinary high, you know? From here on out, I wanna do this thing with you - the real deal, not just heated flings or fooling around when it's convenient."

One calloused palm drifted up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your wildly fluttering pulse. "That is...if you're sure you want to go all in with this crazy bastard and whatever baggage he's got. Because I sure as shit don't plan on letting you go after everything we've been through, darlin'. You're stuck with me now."

The last words were issued in a low, rumbly rasp brimming with naked want and promise. You felt a shiver of pure yearning race down your spine as Harry slowly, inexorably drew you back into the smoldering field of his orbit.

"Just to be clear," you murmured, drunk on the whiskey-smoke scent and pure masculine essence of him, "I am absolutely, one-hundred percent sure I want to dive into this thing with you, Harry . The real deal, as you put it - not as mentor and mentee, but as...as partners in every sense of the word."

A smile you couldn't suppress bloomed over your features as you nuzzled his whiskered jaw adoringly. "You, me, and whatever crazy culinary adventures lie ahead...I can't wait."

Harry rumbled out a low, contented chuckle that vibrated against your skin deliciously. "Sounds perfect to me, darlin'," he rasped, "Absolutely freakin' perfect."

Silence fell between you then, stretching out in a tender, infinitely rich moment of shared affection and promise. Of two hearts irreversibly entwined, embarking together on an endeavor that would change the course of both your lives immeasurably.

Though the road ahead would surely present its own tangle of twists, turns, and daunting challenges yet to come...in that ephemeral pocket of stillness, cradled in the heart of Harry's powerful embrace, you had never felt more vibrantly alive or certain of the path destiny had laid out before you.

No matter what obstacles or battles awaited around the bend, you knew without a shred of doubt that you would confront them as you did everything else - side-by-side with your partner, your equal, your soulmate in every possible sense. Two culinary spirits, unified at long last in a blissful, rapturous understanding.

The rest of the world could keep spinning wildly outside the sheltered cocoon you had woven together. But in this perfect, crystalline moment frozen in time...nothing else mattered beyond the blazing truth ignited between you. From here on out, you would walk through the fire of any culinary pursuit, hand-in-hand, soul-to-soul alongside the man who held your heart.

And in the end, that's all that would ever matter again.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this series is done, but I'm always open to doing extras and check-ins!

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laswells-ashtray · 2 months ago

Note

I personally really like the idea of the Shadows being kinda like Phillip's lil family. So...

On an op before 141, the fucker gets injured pulling a Shadow away from a rotting patch of wooden floor while sweeping an old church. He lands himself a fractured ankle, splinters quite literally up the ass, and bruising like a bitch after falling through the floor himself.

So nothing too bad.

He comes off the comes off the painkillers to a hoard of puppy-eyed men in various stages of uniform dress.

Blah blah blah fluff happens

His ass hurts. It shouldn't be his first thought but his ass hurts. The same way it did when he took a drunken tumble down a flight of stairs as a teenager and bruised half of his damn body. He knows that after that shitshow of a job [that they'd been paid an abysmally low amount for given the conditions] he had showered, changed into sweatpants, taken some good quality fucking painkillers and he conked out on the closest surface.

Which he now realises is the old ass couch they all collectively refuse to get rid of despite its various stains and the knife stuck in one of its legs. He blinks before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. There are at least five Shadows around him, maybe six. They might be multiplying.

Oz catches his eye and he looks far too amused for someone that still owes him ten dollars and a Costco hotdog, but he'll bring up that bet later.

"Feeling alright, commander?"

He stares back at the man with an unamused look, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He was being watched like he was holding a bag of fries and he'd just stepped into pigeon territory.

"Fuck are you starin' for? Oz, if there's a dick on my face-"

"There isn't, couldn't take one of the kids into doing it. Just wondering if you're hungry because you took those painkillers on an empty stomach then passed out half-dead."

Damn right, none of the younger Shadows would draw a dick on his face. They were too scared to, Oz? Not so much but he was stuck with the shithead at this point.

"Could go something. Mind telling me why you've got a small army of Shadows present for this conversation?"

"Well, Petrillo was here to look at your ankle while you were too unconscious to notice. Garfield is here to try and talk you into buying Chick-fil-A with company money. And-"

"My name isn't Garfield-"

"You hate Mondays. Anyway, and the kids are here because they've never seen you land on your ass like that before and wanted to check how you're doing but they're too scared to ask for themselves."

That checks. He looks around at the three younger Shadows who have all now decided to stop staring at him and instead at the floor.

"Christ, I'm fine. If you can't take a fall like that then you can't do the fucking job. And I'll pay for the Chick-fil-A but I ain't going to get it, drag your lazy ass to do it."

Only then does he notice the fact that there's a bag of frozen peas under his ankle.

#phillip graves #shadow company #osmond oz ryan

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randomdragonfires · 2 months ago

Text

in your car, i'm a star (and i'm burnin' through you)

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Girlfriend!Reader Oneshot

A/N | Yes, I'm still alive. Please take... whatever this is. I started spitballing and two hours later, this happened. Not my best work, lots of plot holes - but hey, at least I remember how to write lol. This was just to get my inspiration back, somewhat. Now I'll go back into hiding.

WARNINGS | NONE. Just a tinge of angst if you squint and complicated family dynamics. Hurt/Comfort drabble, really.

SUMMARY | She knows him, she loves that she does. But does she know him, truly?

WORD COUNT | 2.6k

Inspired by Love Song, by Lana Del Rey.

She knows him—or at least, she thought she did.

She knows him in the way his lip twitches just so, that subtle gesture standing in for a smile. She knows him from the lazy trails his fingers leave on the fogged-up shower glass, the only trace of his presence after he’s gone. She knows the way he walks—calm, feline, serene; as though he owns the room.

She knows his quiet confidence, the understated arrogance. She notices the rhythmic drumming of his fingers against the table as he studies his laptop, sleeves haphazardly rolled up, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. She recognizes how his face stays controlled, concentrated, yet always seems at peace.

She treasures the small things—the jam jar he loosens for her when he knows he’ll be gone before she wakes; he knows she can’t open it herself. She loves the way she seeks his warmth even in sleep, instinctively curling toward him like a moth to flame.

She notices the thoughtful details—the way he sets her mug next to the kettle before he leaves for work, her favorite tea bag already waiting inside. How he leaves his book open to the page she stopped at, knowing she’ll steal it from his nightstand. How he never forgets to replace the batteries in the remote, even though she wouldn’t notice until they were completely dead.

She loves how he adjusts her seatbelt when she forgets, his fingers brushing hers in a wordless reminder. How he orders her fries because he knows she’ll inevitably steal his no matter what. The way he folds her blanket at the end of the couch, even though he pretends it annoys him when she leaves it there.

Or how he always picks up her jacket when she tosses it carelessly over a chair, hanging it up with a faint shake of his head. How he coils her phone charger neatly, even when she leaves it everywhere, and always makes sure to charge her headphones before long trips because she never remembers.

She loves Aemond for who he is. She sees him, appreciates him, loves him, knows him—

Or at least, she thought she did.

He should never have brought her here.

He’s known for some time now—perhaps too long—that this was a mistake. Things are too easy with her, too peaceful, and he’s grown dangerously accustomed to it. The quiet has become a refuge, and he’s taken it for granted, blind to its fragility until now.

He sees how she’s changed him. How the razor-sharp edge he’s carried for so long has dulled in her presence, as if she’s gently worn him down, one quiet moment at a time. The way his heart still jerks when someone taps his shoulder, but her touch—the warm, steady weight of her palm—grounds him instantly. He loves how the bed feels when she’s in it, her warmth a quiet anchor that tethers him to something real. He loves the little hearts she draws on the shower glass when she’s up before him. Does she know it matters? Something so small, so effortlessly delicate, yet it lingers with him long after she’s gone.

He loves the sight of her sprawled on his couch, lying on her stomach with her calves kicked up, grinning at him like his world is hers to brighten. He loves the mess she leaves behind—her makeup scattered across his vanity, evidence of her presence. The second toothbrush in the holder, now a permanent fixture, though the thought of it being gone fills him with a dread he can’t quite name.

Her touch steadies him. Her voice slows him. Her presence halts the chaos of his world, if only for a brief moment, long enough for him to feel like he’s actually a part of it.

And now, she will leave. She’s seen him for what he truly is—the cracks beneath the surface, the brokenness he’s kept hidden for so long. She will leave.

She won’t be wrong to go. He wouldn’t stay either.

Going back home for Christmas is never something he looks forward to.

There are parts of it he likes, of course. He likes seeing his mother’s face light up when she greets him, the warmth in her smile wrapping around him like a blanket. He likes how Helaena beams at the thought of all her brothers being under the same roof again, her joy so pure and contagious it makes the house feel alive. He enjoys watching Criston ruffle Daeron’s hair as the younger one hunches over his notebook, too focused to care about the disruption. He loves watching Aegon embarrass himself with whatever woman he’s brought along for the season, loud and brash as always. Though he’d never admit it aloud—never—he sees himself in Aegon’s ridiculous gestures now that he has her. Aegon’s clumsy declarations of affection mirror his own, though his are quieter, subtler.

They’re all the same.

They’re all part of the same heart.

He likes who he is here, among the people who love him, who see him as something more than the jagged edges he keeps hidden from the world. He loves them back, fiercely, completely, in a way he rarely allows himself to feel.

This time, he brings her. Watching his mother embrace her with the same warmth she gave him fills him with something he can’t name. It’s as if his mother is returning a silent promise: Protect my son’s heart, and I will protect yours.

Criston’s approving smile lingers just behind them, and somehow, that quiet nod means more to him than any meeting with Viserys ever could. Helaena and Daeron whisk her away to explore the grounds, their easy chatter drawing her into their world effortlessly. Even Aegon, beer in hand, sides up to him with a mumbled, “She seems nice.” It’s as close as Aegon will ever get to openly welcoming someone into the family. In that, the brothers have always been guarded - just in visibly different ways.

He likes this part of Christmas.

But then, his father arrives. And with him, his golden daughter and her brood—a procession that feels more like a parade of veiled insults and subtle power plays.

In that moment, he wishes he’d kept her safe, whisked her away back to their flat, hidden her from the storm brewing on the horizon. Before Luke exposes him for who he truly is.

It happens before he even realizes it.

The thread, stretched taut for hours under the weight of veiled insults and sharp-edged jabs, finally snaps. Perhaps it was always inevitable—a breaking point years in the making, woven into the fabric of that night long ago, the night that changed everything.

He hates that she’s part of this charade, this grotesque tradition where both branches of the family pretend they are whole. The sickly-sweet veneer of unity grates at him, and watching her navigate it with grace only makes it worse. She listens to Daemon with a polite smile, nodding at his barbed remarks as though they’re harmless. It churns his stomach, the way she must endure this ugliness with a dignity he doesn’t think he could ever match.

He doesn’t know what Luke says. He doesn’t catch the exact words or the smirk that accompanies them.

It doesn’t matter.

He hears the snigger, feels the sting of the unspoken, and the weight of years-old memories crashes down on him like a wave. The next thing he knows, he’s let go of her hand, the warmth of her touch gone as he rises from his chair.

The room blurs, but his target is clear. Jace is on the ground before he even registers the punch that put him there. Off to the side, he sees Aegon slam Luke into the table, their mother’s expensive centerpiece shattering under the force. Aegon doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t hold back—because once, long ago, he left Aemond to fight alone. The price for that mistake was written across Aemond’s face, a reminder neither of them could ever forget.

For a moment, the room is chaos. The cacophony of shouting and crashing fades into a dull roar as Daemon strides in, yanking them apart with a scowl that could burn through steel. Rhaenyra mutters something about being thankful their father has already gone to bed, sparing him the spectacle. Alicent clutches Criston’s hand tightly—an odd development, one that might have piqued Aemond’s curiosity in any other situation. Criston, ever composed, smirks faintly at the boys he helped raise - finally fighting side by side.

But none of it matters. None of it reaches him.

The loudest noise is the deafening silence of her presence. She stands frozen, her gaze locked on the floor, her hands clenched at her sides. For the first time since he met her a year ago, she refuses to meet his eyes.

Shame curls in his chest, threatening to consume him whole.

Hours later, as the dust settles, his mother pleads with him to stay the night. He shakes his head. He can’t. Staying here feels wrong, like prolonging the damage he’s already caused. He needs her back at the flat, where the world feels small and safe again, where her warmth in his arms drowns out the chaos his family always brings.

If, that is, the fragile peace he’s built isn’t already beyond repair.

When she wakes, his side of the bed is empty. The sheets are cold—he’s been gone for a while.

She pads through the flat, barefoot and quiet, her home now as much as his, even if she’s never said it out loud. The absence of him unsettles her, as does the memory of the man she saw last night. It wasn’t the Aemond she knew. It wasn’t the man she's come to love.

The Aemond she knows is gentle, deliberate. Even last night, after the chaos, he was careful as he tucked her into bed, his hand brushing through her hair with quiet apologies whispered between the spaces of her breath. His voice was soft, steady, soothing—enough to almost make her forget why they’d left Dragonstone earlier than planned.

Almost.

He rarely speaks of the other half of his family, and now, she understands why. Daemon’s sharp tongue had been enough to make her wince in a ten-minute conversation; the indifference his father showed in the face of his nephews' presence was stunning. She can only imagine the weight of years spent enduring that venom.

Perhaps Aemond keeps his silence not out of indifference, but out of necessity—to keep the anger locked away, to remain the man she fell in love with.

She tries calling him, but he doesn’t pick up. The unanswered ring unsettles her more than his absence.

Sighing, she heads to the kitchen. She begins to prepare breakfast, the motions familiar and grounding. Pancakes, eggs, sausages—things he likes. The onions sizzle in one pan while the eggs cook in another, the sounds filling the silence he left behind. She tries calling again, balancing the phone between her shoulder and ear as she chops, but the call goes unanswered once more.

She knows why. He’s ashamed. She’s always suspected there’s more anger in him than he lets her see. She’s wished, in quiet moments, that he’d let her see it—not to judge him, but to show him that it wouldn’t change how much she loves him.

The food is ready long before he returns, so she eats alone, the stillness pressing against her. On the coffee table sits the watch she’d bought for him, still in its elegant box. She hasn’t had the chance to give it to him yet.

After clearing the dishes, she leaves them in the sink, knowing the housemaid will handle them later. She moves to the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest as she waits.

And then, finally, the sound of keys in the door. The soft creak as it opens. Footsteps. He’s home.

And he brought coffee.

She stands as he enters, the sight of him both a relief and a quiet ache. She takes the cups from his hands, her fingers brushing his briefly. He still won’t meet her eyes. Placing the cups on the table, she takes his hand in hers, leading him to the sofa.

When he sits, she moves to straddle him, her knees on either side of him. She holds him close, until she is all he sees, all he feels, all he can think about.

Her lips find his forehead first, soft and lingering, as her arms wrap tightly around his torso. She holds on as though she’s anchoring him, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. Slowly, she maps her way downward, each kiss deliberate, each touch an offering. His eyelids, his cheeks, his nose—she doesn’t stop until she finds his lips.

He smells of sweat, faint and earthy, and she remembers the perfectly placed shoes near the door. He’s been on a run, she realizes.

He’s been running, in more ways than one.

Her kisses shift, deeper now, but still tender. He responds slowly at first, his hands tentative on her hips before they find her back, pulling her closer. For a while, the world shrinks to just them—soft breaths, soft lips, soft touches. The tension in his shoulders begins to melt, his hand slipping up to cradle her neck as if grounding himself in her presence.

When the weight of the moment settles, he leans back, lying down with her beside him. She shifts to rest her head against his chest, her fingers idly tracing patterns over his t-shirt. His arm curls around her, holding her against him, as his lips press to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, tinged with regret.

She lifts her head to look at him, her eyes soft, her voice softer still. “It’s alright. You’re so good to me…”

His expression shifts, something flickering in his steely, forever cautious gaze. She knows there’s more, an explanation forming behind his eyes.

But it can wait.

Right now, all she wants is for him to feel what she does. To know what she’s always known.

He’s home.

Moments pass, and he calms down again. Later, he murmurs.

“You should drink your coffee before it gets cold.”

She laughs, the sound light and easy, as she moves off him to pick up her cup. It’s a holiday drink—spiced, sweet, just how she likes it. He knows her well enough to bring her favorite, even when he’s apologizing for ruining the holidays this year. But as she takes a sip, she realizes all is not lost.

“I got you something,” she says, setting her cup down and reaching for the small box she left on the table.

Wordlessly, he takes it, his fingers brushing hers as he sits up beside her. She cups her coffee again, letting its warmth seep into her palms as she watches him open the gift.

The watch gleams under the soft morning light, the craftsmanship striking. He notices the details immediately, running his thumb over the smooth edge of the dial.

“Valyrian steel,” he says, his tone flat yet certain. It’s not a question—of course, he’d recognize his preferred metal. He always does. That’s who he is: the kind of man with a preferred metal, precise and particular in ways that often amuse her.

“I had it sourced from someone in imports,” she begins, her words spilling quickly, almost bashful. “The permits are hard to procure, and it took months—”

He stops her mid-sentence, pulling her into a hug. It’s sudden and firm, his arms wrapping around her in a way that leaves no room for misinterpretation.

“Don't leave,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice carrying an honesty that makes her chest tighten.

She smiles against his shoulder, her hands resting lightly on his back.

"I'm not going anywhere."

She knows him, and he loves that she does. And it truly is that simple.

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