#Requests are still open if anyone still has some requests!

[ashwhowrites]

Ohhh babes I saw you want angst and YES Miscommunication + secret dating TOTES SOUNDS 🔥 . So, Eddie n reader dating on the dl bc Eddie worried reader would get treated bad or bullied?? but he didn’t actually tell her that Just asked to keep it secret/quiet/whatev. So maybe Billy Steve or ??? knows Eddie is her friend and asks Eddie like whats she like, she dating anyone, I wanna take her out.

And Eddie straight panics and instead of oh she’s got a boyfriend at another school or some smart… he down talks her. she boring, annoying, she always [thing reader actually does alot!], dont bother. And course reader hears and is right devastated and thinks thats why the dl, cause he’s embarrassed/using her for sex/it’s all a big joke to him.

After end of day in private she breaks up with him, doesn’t say she overheard. Eddie has no idea what he did wrong, she avoids him, won’t talk. He’s broken. Finally he finds out she heard what he said and what she thinks. Could it end happy eventually? Like maybe he makes a loud speech like he does on the caff tables to show he’s never been embarrassed of her, yeah?

Hurt me with the angst babes. Xoxo

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

DL

Y/N wasn't the best at keeping secrets, everything she felt was said on her face. She never saw the point in secrets, which is why she felt like the biggest hypocrite in the world. Because here she was keeping her whole damn six month relationship a secret.

It wasn't that she wanted to. Her boyfriend begged her and she tried to understand. She loved being with Eddie and it hurt to be a secret. She wanted to be with him so she agreed to give him time.

She felt like six months was enough time. She was growing a little irradiated and bothered. Anytime they talked about it Eddie said he was ready. But it never seems to happen.

Eddie locked the van and the two began walking towards the small restaurant. Y/N walked close by, her hand inching to slide her hand in his. Upon contact, Eddie was fast to move his hand in his pocket. Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and added a bit of space between them.

"About time," Dustin groaned, welcoming the two to the table. Y/N sat across, moving over for Eddie to fit in the spot next to her. She wasn't surprised when he took the seat next to Dustin instead, but it still hurt.

"What's that?" Dustin asked, noticing a dark mark on Eddie's neck. Y/N felt her cheeks burn as she realized she left something behind from their makeout earlier. Dustin flicked the mark, making Eddie hiss.

Eddie quickly looked at Y/N, her smirk obvious. "Nothing."

"That's a hickey! Who are you getting nasty with?" Dustin teased

"Some random chick at the bar, drop it," Eddie hissed through his teeth. Y/N knew it was a lie, obviously, but hearing his lie made her stomach turn.

"Damn dude, massive hickey," Steve laughed as he joined the group, sliding into the open spot near Y/N. Eddie stiffened when Steve was shoulder-to-shoulder with her.

"Yeah apparently a chick at the bar," Dustin giggled, "Was it Lauren? She always looks at you after your shows."

Eddie gulped as Y/N's hard gaze landed on him. She'd been to see him play a few times, and she didn't know who this Lauren was.

"Lauren? Who's that, Eddie?" she asked, a fake smile plastered on her face

"I've never talked to her, so I don't know who she is. And it wasn't her so like I said, drop it," Eddie demanded. The table got awkward as Eddie fumed as he looked over the menu.

Y/N couldn't help but glare at him over the top of her menu. Maybe she wasn't the only secret girl in his life.

"Anyway, how is your day going?" Steve asked, Eddie looked up to see who the question was for. His blood boiling as Steve turned his body to face Y/N completely.

Dustin tried to talk to Eddie, but he was laser-focused on Steve flirting with his girlfriend.

~~~

Eddie didn't realize how big of a mistake it was to be a secret until he was hit with the reality of someone wanting her.

"DON'T RUN!" Steve yelled as the gang ran through the arcade. Eddie laughed as they ignored him, running without a care in the world.

Eddie went to walk away but Steve grabbed his arm. Eddie froze and looked down at his hand, making Steve retreat.

"Sorry, I just wanted to ask you something," Steve said. He nervously put his hands in his pockets. "You and Y/N are pretty close right?"

Eddie felt a hot rush of jealousy run through his body, just by hearing another man say her name. "Why?"

"Do you know if she's seeing anyone? The few times she's been around I couldn't keep my eyes off of her. I want to ask her out," Steve explained. Eddie scoffed at the red blush that coated his cheeks. He was blushing over his girlfriend?

"Y/N, oh you don't want to ask her out!" Eddie scoffed, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Why?" Steve awkwardly laughed. Neither boy recognized Y/N walking up to them.

"She-she-uh- she's so clingy. I've heard from all of her ex-boyfriends that she's good in bed, but that's it. She's got a boring personality. She's a bit annoying, with all her "save the planet, don't do drugs, and cigarettes are poison". You look like an independent guy, Steve. Do you want a girl to nag and control you?" Eddie asked, planting a hard smack on the boy's shoulder. Steve hissed at the connection, rubbing the skin when Eddie removed his hand.

Y/N felt her throat burn as she took in Eddie's words. It all made sense now. He was embarrassed by her, hell he didn't even like her. He was interested in the sex, that's all she was good for. She swallowed her sobs and walked off. She didn't care to hear what Steve would say. She was falling in love with Eddie and he couldn't stand her.

Eddie smiled in victory as Steve walked off to a machine. With the sudden interest in Y/N, Eddie felt the need to see his girlfriend. He didn't bother to say goodbye to anyone, heading out to his van.

It didn't take long for him to arrive at her house. He parked his van down the street and snuck over to her window. He pulled himself up on her roof, thankful it was night so no one would be calling the cops.

He tapped on her window.

She sighed as she heard Eddie at her window. She wasn't ready to see him.

"Come on, baby. I wanna see you,"

She wiped off her face and walked to the window. She opened the curtain but didn't open the window.

"What the hell do you want?" She spat. Eddie flinched at the venom on her tongue.

"Woah, what the hell did I do?" Eddie asked.

"Are you going to tell people about us?" She asked, keeping her head held high.

"Baby," he sighed, she scoffed and shook her head. She already knows the speech.

"We're done, Munson. Now get the fuck off my roof," she hissed. She closed her curtains and raced to shut off her light.

Eddie stared at his reflection as he tried to process what happened. He rapidly knocked on her window but she never came back.

"Y/N!" He harshly whispered, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. He continued to knock but left that night with no reply.

~

The next morning Eddie was already racing back to her house.

But again, got no reply.

~~~

It took around three days for the gang to notice Y/N wasn't around. They all wanted to ask but there was this look on Eddie's face that made them scared to ask. Dustin was worried for his friend. Eddie was always moody and snippy. But now he seemed so sad and in pain. Dark bags under his eyes and his voice always sounded dry and cracked.

Steve felt a little awkward about it. Feeling like he was the cause of whatever happened.

No one in the gang was close enough to her to ask her what happened. So everyone was stuck with not knowing what went down between the two.

Eddie's eyes followed her everywhere. It seemed no matter where she went, those brown puppy eyes were warning her skin. She knew she'd suffer with seeing him at school, but she didn't think he'd be so obvious that he suffered too. She was shocked to see he was affected but she convinced herself she didn't care.

Eddie was falling apart and he didn't care to hide it. He had one amazing thing in his life and he fucked it up.

Eddie let another week pass before he got desperate. He knew he was going to look insane, but he was done. The next time he saw her, in the halls at school, he quickly picked her up and locked them in a classroom.

"Are you insane!" She hissed, slapping him as he dropped her.

"It's time we talk,"

"I don't want to talk, Eddie. I told you we're done," she went to walk past him but he stepped in front of her.

"Can I explain myself? If you knew why I kept us a secret, it might help," he pleaded but she shoved him against the wall.

Her face was close to his as she stared him down. "I know exactly why you wanted to keep us a secret."

"You do?" He gulped. He was embarrassed that he got bullied as practically a young man.

"I heard everything you had to say to Steve. So no, knowing that my boyfriend doesn't even like me doesn't help at all! I'm glad I gave you a few good fucks, asshole. I'll make sure to give Steve the best head of his life so he can ignore all the flaws about me."

Eddie growled as Steve's name left her lips. He harshly grabbed the back of her neck and shoved his lips against hers. He was possessive and jealous, reminding her he was the best she'd ever had. She fought to not kiss him back but she was weak. She melted into him and lost herself in his lips.

"No one will ever have you like I do," he growled.

She shoved him away from her. "Well to the whole world, I'm open to take."

"I made all that shit up, okay? I didn't want Steve to go after you. I got jealous and instead of telling the truth, I choked. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean anything I said."

"If you didn't mean anything you said, then why am I still your secret?" she whimpered. She felt exhausted from the secrets, it was making their relationship harder than it needed to be. "I am so tired of being ignored by you. I feel used when we have sex and the very next day, I'm nothing to you. You don't want anyone to have me, yet it seems like you don't even want me." Eddie frowned as tears slipped down her face.

"Please don't cry, baby. I do want you, and I'll always want you. It's just that I'm a loser, baby. The town hates me, and I'm a held-back senior who still gets bullied by the jocks. It's embarrassing, I'm embarrassing. And I didn't want you to receive the treatment I get. You don't deserve to be treated like shit because you gave me a chance," he explained. She could see all the emotion in his eyes and she sensed all the truth he spoke. "I thought I was protecting you but I can see I did it all wrong."

"I don't care about anyone or what they think. All I've wanted was for us to be together," she whispered as she cupped his face, allowing him to press his body against hers.

"I'm sorry for everything. I love you so much and I want everyone to know. I don't want anyone to think they have a chance with you," he muttered, his lips inches away from hers.

"Then show them,"

He smirked and ran out the door. She wasn't sure where he was going to go, quickly following. He busted through the cafeteria doors and stood on a table with his dirty sneakers.

"Eddie!" Y/N hissed but he sent her a wink.

"ATTENTION PLEASE!" the room went quiet as they turned to look at Eddie. Some people whispering.

"IS ANYONE HERE INTERESTED IN THE LOVELY Y/N?"

She felt her skin burn as the attention turned to her. She begged Eddie to get done but this was what she asked for.

Eddie didn't wait for anyone to answer, "TOO BAD. SHE'S MY GIRLFRIEND!"

"Can you get down here now?" she asked, Eddie stepped down and the cafeteria went back to talking among themselves.

"That work for you?" he asked, scooping her in his arms. She laughed and nodded. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before a teacher came over to discipline him for his commotion.

"See you after detention, m'lady," another wink sent her way.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[candyswirls]

Space Marine Cuddle Pile PT 2

Continuation of this.

@wolf-feathers12 you owe me fifty cookies and I’m gluten free

Imagine:

Titus is not quite new anymore to the watch. He’s slowly opening up to his squad mates but still is apprehensive. The mission has been a success and his squad wants to celebrate. They worked well together. But Titus does not wish to participate. He is bitter and mournful. News that the Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, had returned came through a few days ago. He was overjoyed at hearing that. But he doesn’t get to celebrate. Not when he’s dishonored his chapter. Not when he’s a black shield. Not when he can’t celebrate with his brothers. Before he can go to the training cages, a squad mate pulls him back, not taking no for an answer. He may have not told them his chapter and was using another name but they can tell how hard the last few days have been. Rather than celebrating they all huddle together, one with another. They miss each of their chapters and brothers. But they can find comfort in one another. It’s a moment of reprieve for the ex-captain’s broken heart.

As an Emperors’ children you are far more prone to cuddling than one might think. You were always underestimated. Many scoffed at your legion and chalked you up to pompous and egotistical men. Some of that was true but it didn’t make it hurt any less. Even more hurtful was the rejection of your Primarch. He didn’t want you or your brothers. He would not lead. You all were so desperate that some followed his clone when he showed up. You’re all scattered and trying what you can to make Fulgrim proud and have him return. Sometimes the rejection hurts so much you’ll curl up together in a pile. Pretending the weight is your Primarch, welcoming you back and saying that you’ve done well. That you’re worthy of his love. Those who are a part of war bands tend to be flock to bigger Astartes. Craving large and warm arms to wrap around you and say it’s okay. You’re not useless or worthless. You’re not an object or disposable.

Little known fact about Iron Warriors. You will cuddle anyone but your own legion. You’re so touch starved and refuse to ask for it due to how the chapter is. Cuddling your brothers? Revolting. Your Primarch won’t do it. Cold and refusing to show any weakness. But the minute any other traitor Astartes wants to start a pile or even a daemon or cultist request a hug, you’re there. You will not say anything and you’re definitely not saying no. You will just join in. If you see a cuddle pile you won’t ask, you’re suddenly in the middle. Emperor’s Children tend to like Iron Warrior’s for this reason. Might as well write “Free Hugs” on the back of their armor.

Newly joined Blood Angels feeling the psychic wound of their genefathers death. The looming of the red thirst and the chance of falling to the black rage. Their new brothers hold them in a large mass. Safe and warm to let them know that they’re not alone. They all feel the pain. They all mourn their father and fallen brethren. They all share it. So they share their hugs and affection.

Black Templars having massive sermons where the chaplain gets emotional and they all hold one another as they recite prayers. Hold each other up. Being strong like Dorn. Their Primarch isn’t here but they are here for each other.

Night Lords will cram themselves into dark and tight places to hide, entangled in each other’s arms. Their Primarch was mad and didn’t care for them. They have to care for each other. Everything they do is vile and violent. Except for this. Ever so gentle touches, protective embraces, the most tender of running hands through hair, gentle head butting. They are one of the most affectionate legions but only with each other. Silent as they relish in each other’s deep rooted sadness and hatred for themselves and solace of being with one another.

Lorgar finally has a moment of silence as the word bearers are escorted away from Monarchia by the Ultramarines. The emperor’s wrath had been fierce. He ends up dropping to his knees and pulling his closest son into an embrace. The others around him move forward without thinking. He pulls so many into his arms, has them laying their heads on his shoulders and back. Pressing their cheeks and foreheads to his own as he cries prayers he wrote. They were innocent! Loyal to him! He had done this for him! All that work! It was a gift! A tribute! He just burned it away! Killed them all. Rejected it. He’s in so much pain and anger but having his sons close eases it a bit.

Magnus clings to his sons. They don’t react as dust swirls within the armor. Foolish stupid Ahriman. He had managed to save the remaining few and bring them into the warp. Relieved that they all weren’t dead. This seemed worse though. He presses a kiss to the top of one’s helmet, praying that there’s some bit of conscious in there. Those that were unaffected are huddled behind him as his new wings caress them.

He wasn’t very affectionate. Mortarion had grown up shying away from it and he rarely indulged in cuddle piles. But after so many had died from horrid plagues and sicknesses, he had to pledge himself to Nurgle. It didn’t matter though. His sons were saved and himself. He had sat himself on the ground and big then to come forth. Some were nuzzled into his side, a few rested their heads on his torso. He was surrounded by his sons. Safe. He didn’t care what it had taken or what would happen next.

[valiwrites]

Hiii, I can make a request about Lamine Yamal, where he is very, very obsessed with his girlfriend, and makes everyone realize this, and how "beautiful and perfect" the reader is, that he is very romantic but at the same time a little shy (on the part of the reader), but in itself that it has a lot of fluff :))

heyy!! sorry this is a bit bad im kinda sick and without motivation.. i tried my best 💕

CAN'T HELP IT

pairing: lamine yamal x reader

type: fluff

warnings: PDA, kissing, short

MASTERLIST

<><><><><><>

Lamine checked his phone for the tenth time, trying to act like he wasn’t impatiently waiting for you to show up. His teammates kept side-eyeing him, clearly picking up on his excitement even if he was trying to play it cool.

Finally, the door to the café opened, and you walked in, searching for him. The second Lamine saw you, he was up out of his seat like a reflex, flashing you that smile that made his whole face light up.

Without a second thought, he crossed the café, pulling you close and leaning in for a quick kiss that lingered just a little longer than planned. “Hey,” he murmured, his eyes soft as they met yours. “You look amazing.”

“Hi,” you replied, smiling, feeling a bit shy under his intense gaze—and also under the watchful stares of his teammates. You could feel the eyes on you both, but Lamine seemed completely oblivious to anyone but you.

When you reached the table, he sat beside you, draping his arm around you like it was the most natural thing in the world, and barely letting go of your hand even once you were seated. You tried to ignore the snickering around the table, though you noticed a few of the guys exchanging amused glances.

One of his friends finally spoke up, nudging Lamine with a smirk. “Mate, did you even hear a word we were saying before she got here?”

Lamine laughed, glancing over at you with a grin, his cheeks going a bit pink. “Sorry, I just—she’s here,” he said, shrugging, as if that explained everything. “I kind of… forgot what we were talking about.”

The guys groaned, rolling their eyes. “We know she’s here,” one of them teased, crossing his arms. “Trust us, you make it pretty clear every time.”

Lamine turned an even deeper shade of red, suddenly shy now that he realized just how obvious he’d been. But even then, he leaned in close to press another soft kiss to your cheek. “Can’t help it,” he said softly, giving your hand a squeeze under the table. “You know I missed you, right?”

One of his teammates couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Bro, we’re literally right here!”

You felt your own cheeks warm as you nudged Lamine gently. “We might be embarrassing them a bit,” you whispered, laughing softly.

Lamine chuckled, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe,” he admitted, looking a bit shy, though he was still smiling. “Sorry, guys.”

His friends just shook their heads, clearly amused. “It’s fine. Just, you know—leave some of the romantic stuff for later,” one of them joked.

Lamine grinned, finally leaning back with a sheepish laugh. “Alright, alright,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But even after he tried to play it cool, his hand found yours under the table again, his thumb tracing slow circles over your knuckles.

And with every little glance he stole your way, it was clear that no matter how hard he tried, Lamine just couldn’t help showing how much he adored you—even if his friends had to endure a bit of PDA in the process.

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

[thefallennightmare]

Oh JP, where do I begin?

One year ago my life changed when I posted the first chapter to a story I had no idea would explode the way it did. What started off as a request( 🎧I hope you're still around), turned into a whole universe. It brought me SO many amazing friends, some of whom I've lost and that's okay. Because that's life and we live and learn.

There were some bumps in the road with JP and some long hiatus in between chapters while I was dealing with some personal issues but most of you stayed. You stuck by my side through that one shift in JP and that means the absolute world to me.

I know I tease a lot of bullshit with this story and I pulled an inception with Dreamstate, throwing everyone off with Chapter 28 and 29. But I'm not going to lie, it's lowkey fun creating chaos. The group chat don't call me Khaos Queen for nothing.

JP has opened my eyes with so many different ways of writing/planning to create universes. I've worked extremely hard to build it and I will cherish this universe for the rest of my life.

I love you all so much. Thank you for your endless support and theories on this silly little story. I cannot express how much you all mean to me.

Bad Omens changed my life just as much as this story has. Every time I listen to Just Pretend, I'm reminded of the love story I created because of that song. The last time I saw Just Pretend performed at Pointfest I had my own angel moment where I cried my eyes out, like full on sobbing, because this song changed my life. I don't care what anyone says, Just Pretend and JP are that bitch.

Let's all buckle up and enjoy the ride down the last two chapters of JP. We're about to go out with a bang!

Angel and Mochi forever. 🪽🍡

[mochichoki]

if you still have ship requests open…i will always ask for some apple juice (monk x hunter) hehe 👀

Apple juice, not only is the ship cute... The fruit's apple juice is my favorite and apple juice has a place in my heart 💖🍎

And AAAAAA, it was a big surprise when I saw the order on the tray! I didn't expect it 💖💖!!

Requests are always open for anyone who wants to order their favorite or rare ship!

So whenever you want an apple juice for your snack I'll be here!

I hope you enjoy it and have a nice day/night :3!!

[monotonesmile]

Hello beautiful person, well I would like to ask for a request if it is not bothersome! (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

I would love if you could write a Rise!Leon x fem!reader. Only if you want of course. (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

Maybe they meet by accident when Leonardo is on the roof of Reader's building? And they start talking through the window but without her being able to see him, Because Leonardo is afraid that she will get scared or something like that? (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

And in the weeks that they talk, they fall in love with each other! (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠) Reader doesn't really care that he's a mutant turtle!

Sorry if it's too long, you don't have to do it if you don't want to, thanks for your time (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

Rooftop Meeting? No. Fire Escape Meeting.

[Leo x Fem!Reader]

[Word Count: 4,204]

[Warnings: Small amount of blood and mentions of injuries, insecurity, possible ooc Leo]

————————————————

Being rudely awakened by the sound of metal breaking and a loud thud from what she can presume is something hitting her fire escape is not how she expected to wake up at four in the morning on a Sunday. Sitting up in bed with a groggy grumble, she slides out of bed, walking over to her window and sliding it open.

When she looks up, she can see the fire escapes above hers broken with a massive hole going through their flooring. She looks down at her, finding it only dented with specks of blood littering the rusty metal alongside metal fragments from the broken fire escapes.

“Uh…is anyone out here, are you okay?” She calls out in a quiet voice, leaning out her window slightly to try and see if anyone was nearby, worried that someone may be injured, though, how can anyone survive that.

She can hear some shuffling from…somewhere…she can’t see much in the dark, she leans back into her window, staying quiet as if waiting for someone to respond. While waiting she rubs her eyes to try and remove the sleep from them.

While doing so a voice piped up from the darkness, “yes…” the voice was masculine in nature so her first instinct is to assume this person is male, her thoughts are interrupted by more shuffling and a quiet wince.

“Do you need a medical kit? I can go get mine for you…” She asks in worry from hearing a wince, confirming her suspicions of injury, after all there’s blood speckling her fire escape.

“No, no, I’m fine! Uh, no thanks…” The voice rushed out in a slight panic, as if accepting her offer was wrong, but she persisted regardless, refusing to let this person just walk away while likely bleeding, besides, it’s obvious he’s not fine.

“No. I’m going to get my medical kit, I can see the blood so stay put, I’ll be right back.” She huffs, moving back into her bedroom, but not before hearing him sigh in defeat.

Leo, to his dismay, can’t exactly just leave now, thinking this girl would likely try and find him, plus, it might be a good idea to at least treat the cuts on his skin, he’s going to be feeling this in the morning…

She is quick to find the medical kit she keeps in her room for emergencies, walking back over to her window. “Here, you can use this.” She sets the medical kit on the fire escape, waiting for him to grab it but he doesn’t.

“Fine…but I’m staying hidden! I’m all bruised and cut up, I’m not letting you see me when I’m not looking my best! It’ll ruin my image!” The voice huffs with an excuse as to why he’s still hidden in the shadows.

“That’s…fine, I guess? I’m going to go get you some water…uh, what’s your name?” She paused at the end realizing she has no idea what his name is, having stepped away from her window slightly.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Leo.” The voice, now known as Leo, mutters in response, introducing himself with a slight nervous twinge in his voice. “What’s…your name?” He asks quietly.

“Y/N. Now, I am going to go get that water, uhm, patch yourself up…okay?” She says with a slight smile, walking away from the window and further into her apartment to grab a glass of water for Leo.

Leo nods even though she can’t see him, waiting for her to leave fully before grabbing the medical kit and opening it, starting on disinfecting his cuts, wincing slightly as he wipes away the blood. Luckily, or unfortunately, Leo has experience with patching himself up, so he’s pretty fast at wrapping his arms and legs with gauze and bandages, before making sure his head is okay, he did fall through like…five fire escapes. After deeming himself alright, he pushes the medical kit back towards the window, waiting for her return.

“Alright, I’m back, here.” When she returned, she went back to her window, placing the glass of water down on the metal grating of the fire escape floor, taking the medical kit back so she can quickly return it to its original place in her room, disappearing from the window, which allows Leo to take the glass of water.

“Okay, wow, you drank that fast.” She blinks a little in surprise when finding the glass of water back in place but completely empty after returning to the open window, leaning out of her window to pick it up.

“I was thirsty.” Leo jokes a little with a small laugh following, watching from the shadows as she picks the glass up and sets it somewhere beside her in the room she’s in.

“Clearly,” She chuckles a little at his joking tone “is that all? Do you need anything else?” She returns to making sure he’s truly alright, finding herself worrying over a complete stranger, enough to offer things to him.

“Uh no, I’m all good, thank you by the way, for the water and your medical kit…I appreciate it. I do have to go though, it’s late, my family is probably worried and they get a bit…panicky…if one of us goes missing for more than ten minutes.” Leo sighed, shifting slightly to head down the rest of the fire escapes so he can return to the lair, preferably before his brothers go insane while looking for him.

“Oh! Right, get home safe, Leo.” She steps back from her window, making sure to close it only after hearing him leave, locking the window and returning to her bed, thinking about how weird today is probably going to be after that.

————————————————

It’s been a few days since she saw, more like heard, Leo, currently sitting at her desk while watching something on her computer, only to be taken out of her relaxed and zoned out state by a knock on her window. She looks over at her window with a confused expression, turning her computer off as she goes to check what made the sound, unlocking and opening her window, she looks out into the darkness the night has cast across the city.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t open your window for just anyone.” The familiar voice of Leo came from somewhere in the darkness, his tone teasing, she could practically see the grin on his face.

“Haha, very funny, Leo.” She rolls her eyes, her words sarcastic yet light before she decides to question his random visit, thinking he’d probably not come back after the night he fell unceremoniously onto her fire escape. “So…why are you here?”

“Oh, can I borrow your medical kit again? I, uh, got banged up again…” Leo admits sheepishly, like he’s disappointed that he has to ask for help from her, as if he is ashamed to be injured at all.

“Yeah, I’ll go get it, is there anything else you need while I’m still here?” She chuckles a bit at his sheepish tone, finding no problem with him asking for some help.

“Uh, yeah, could we just chat for a bit? If you don’t mind, that is, if you’re busy I can just go but if you aren’t-“ Leo starts to trail off into a ramble as he tries to excuse his question, only to be interrupted by her soft laugh, making him pause, looking at her from the shadows.

“Yes, we can talk, I don’t have anything else to do.” She laughs softly at his rambling, finding it kinda cute. “I’ll go get my medical kit for ya, just wait there.” Her laugh trails off into a soft confirmation as she returns to inside her room, grabbing the medical kit, silently thanking her past self for restocking it after Leo’s first visit.

Once she returns to her window, she sets the medical kit on the fire escape, nudging it towards what she assumes his direction is.

“I’m gonna go get a blanket, it’s chilly tonight, so do you want one? I can go get you a blanket.” She hums after pushing the medical towards the shadows, leaning out of the window slightly, arms resting on the windowsill.

Leo perks up at the offer of a blanket, it is a rather cold night tonight, that’s what they get for living in the north though, nights are cold. “Yeah, I’ll take a blanket!” He chuckles a bit, watching her head back inside to go grab two blankets for them, to which he quickly grabbed the medical kit and once again started patching himself up.

Leo looks up when a blanket is chucked at him, successfully hitting him in the face, making him wheeze with laughter as he can practically feel the surprise and guilt radiating off of her as she winced after hearing the blanket make contact with him, even if it couldn’t hurt him.

“Ah, sorry!” She quickly apologized while wrapping her blanket around herself, pulling her desk chair over so she could sit and be more comfortable while they talked, after grabbing the medical kit and dropping it next to her inside her room.

“You have great aim!” Leo wheezes, pulling the blanket off his head and wrapping it around his newly bandaged body, a wide grin on his face despite the fact she can’t see him, not that he wants her too.

“Shuddup!” She grumbled, pouting as he teases her for her impeccable blanket throw, crossing her arms while leaning back in her chair. “You said you wanted to talk…?” She mutters, her pout disappearing as she looks over at the shadows.

“Oh…right. Uhm…” Now that she’s acknowledging the second half of his request, Leo is suddenly more sheepish and shy. “Okay, so the reason I’m always getting injured…”

She was patient, letting him get his bearings while he tries to air out what she assumes is pent up emotions. Leo finds it a bit odd that he finds comfort telling this stranger his problems, thinking that because they don’t really know each other, it makes it easier to open up, but it’s nice, comforting.

“The reason I’m always injured is because I fight these really bad people, and it’s the reason we originally met…I’d been fighting one of them with my brothers when I got knocked off the roof of your building, and crashed through multiple fire escapes…” Leo sighs, sheepish as he admits the reasoning behind his injuries to her, wrapping the blanket around him tighter.

“So, you’re essentially a vigilante? Or a crime fighter?” She questions, tilting her head as she listens to his reasoning for his injuries, realizing that it suddenly makes much more sense how he came crashing into her life through fire escapes, although she does find it odd that he managed to not only survive it but from what she could assume he sustained only a few injuries from it, especially because of the force one would have to be thrown to break metal that way.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that, pretty cool, huh?” Leo’s original cockiness came back for a moment and she could feel the smugness coming off of him, clearly proud of his work.

“Yes, very cool.” She chuckles quietly at his cockiness, not finding it irritating like most would, she found it humorous.

“I fight alongside my brothers, they’re cool, I get worried every time one of them gets hurt, I don’t like seeing them hurt, but I just…can’t seem to tell them that, I mean! They know I care! But…” Leo exhales heavily as he sighs, trailing off, his smugness fading into melancholy as he crosses his arms, finding some comfort in the blanket around him,

“It sounds like you’re afraid to tell them you care despite them knowing you do, like you’re undeserving of their love towards you, even though you’d do anything for them.” She mutters, leaning her head in her palm, arm propped up on the windowsill as she listens to Leo’s voice.

“Yeah…I guess I do, I feel like I’ve failed them so many times that I just…don’t deserve them.” Leo’s voice drops, lowering into a soft whisper, his tone visibly showing insecurity, he has never liked showing his insecurities to anyone, yet she makes it so easy to lower his guard.

She lets Leo vent for a while, knowing when to stay quiet, sometimes something just needs to be let out without any input afterwards. Leo's soul feels so much lighter as the hours pass by, getting his emotions out finally makes him feel better, more confident than he already is.

“Hey, Y/N?” Leo murmurs, looking at her while staying hidden in the shadows, his lip twitching slightly in a small grin as he notices her sleepiness.

“Mhm?” She blinks, tired from staying awake all night, her eyelids threatening to droop closed.

“You should probably hit the hay, you look exhausted!” Leo laughs a bit, covering his mouth to muffle his own laughter, eyes crinkling from his grin.

“Heh…you’re probably right, I’m gonna go get some sleep, goodnight Leo…” She yawns a little, pushing herself out of her desk chair so she can shut her window but not before she says one more thing through her sleepy daze. “Hope to see you, or well…hear you, again, Leo…” As she finishes the sentence, she shuts her window and the curtains cover it, cutting off visibility inside.

“I- Uh, y-yeah, you too!” Leo stutters out, surprised by her final sentence, sitting still for a moment before he slinked off the fire escape, and to the alleyway below, not realizing he’s just taking the blanket she gave him with him as he disappeared below a manhole.

————————————————

Leo hops onto her fire escape once again, it’s the next night, and Leo felt like he had to see her again, she was just so sweet to him, she held no judgments even though she has not a clue on what he looks like. He places the blanket she gifted him last night on her windowsill, neatly folded and freshly washed (he does live in the sewers after all), he then places some snacks and drinks next to it, feeling he had to repay her for her kindness towards him, so he got her gifts!

Leo taps on her window multiple times until he heard her shuffling around and a groggy groan from inside the apartment, he chuckled quietly at the realization that he just woke her up, hiding back in the shadows as he waits for her to open the window and see the gifts he left for her.

The window slides open with her expression going from grogginess to surprise as she notices the folded blanket and treats on her windowsill, having the sudden realization that she forgot to get the blanket back from Leo, now finding it sweet of him to return it and give her little gifts, a small smile spreading on her face before she chuckles and asks “Leo? Are you still here?”

“Still opening windows for just anyone, I see?” Leo hums from the darkness, a grin on his face as he teases her for her somewhat dangerous habit of just opening her window if someone taps on it.

“Oh hush,” she laughs, shaking her head in amusement as she picks up the folded blanket, setting it aside in her room. “Thank you for returning my blanket, I had completely forgotten about it yesterday.” She smiles gently as she looks at the snacks, confused why he brought them but finds it still sweet nonetheless.

“You’re welcome, I even washed it too…which I had to make an excuse as to why I had a blanket that clearly wasn’t mine to my brothers when they saw me putting it in the wash.” Leo snickers at the memory of his brothers questioning him as to where he got this random blanket from, which was easy to excuse, just saying he got a new blanket.

“Ah, of course, the suspicious blanket.” She grins at his snickers, laughing along with him as she jested about the blanket being suspicious. “And the treats?” She hums, picking up a packet of fruit gummies.

“Oh, I wanted to repay you for letting me use your medical kit and just general kindness towards me…” Leo rubs the back of his neck as he admits the reason behind his gift, noticing the soft smile that appears on her face from it.

“Wanna share?” She smiled, tilting her head slightly as she offered some of the snacks and a drink to him, even if she doesn’t know exactly where he is, she places the snacks and drink on the fire escape.

Leo blinks, a soft blush appearing on his cheeks when she offers to share with him, surprised and a tad flustered by it before his normal bravado returns. “Yeah! I’ll have some.” He pulls the snacks and drink towards him, the soft blush not leaving his face.

They talk for a while while sharing the snacks, more than happy to just talk about their days, or it’s Leo talking about past fights he and his brothers fought, being very animated and excitable as he speaks of the past battles, likely exaggerating a few areas to make himself look good, which makes her laugh, smiling as he recalls tales of the past before a question pops into her mind.

“Hey Leo?” She looks up from her drink, setting it down after screwing the cap back on as she looks over at the shadows where he might be.

“Yeah?” Leo looks over at her, having stopped mid sentence in his story because she brought his attention back to her with her question.

“Why are you staying hidden? You’ve probably healed up by now, so, are you ever coming out of the shadows?” She mutters, finally getting this question out of her mind after it’s been eating away at her for a while.

“Uh- I- uhm…I’m still bruised? I got a nasty bruise on my face…” Leo stutters out, caught off guard by the question as panic runs through his veins for a moment, his excuse is choppy and obviously a lie.

She doesn’t look convinced by his obvious lie but doesn’t ask anymore questions about his anonymity. “Your story?” She raised an eyebrow, urging him to continue.

Which was absolutely a relief to Leo, exhaling a sigh of relief before he grins and continues his story about when he and his brothers fought two crabs, which confuses her a bit but she says nothing, letting him have his moment.

The moon is high in the night sky when she looks up, noticing how late it’s gotten, she smiles a bit as she admires the stars and moon far above them, Leo taking notice and watching her eyes shine in the moonlight, a moment of silence passing between them as she admires the moon while Leo admires her from his place in the shadows, wishing he could reach out and touch her in that moment, not even realizing the way his heart skips a beat.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” She murmurs quietly as she is still looking up at the moon, before looking back down with the same gentle smile on her face, and Leo has never been happier that the shadows hide him than he is now.

Leo blushes even more at the comment about the moon than anything else before, he mutters out a quiet agreement, keeping his flusteredness out of his voice as he swallows a lump in his throat, questioning in his mind why a random comment of the moon's beauty made him so flustered all of the sudden, letting the silence fill their surroundings like a comfortable warmth.

————————————————

Multiple week pass by, an entire month having passed and gone since that fateful day when he crashed onto her fire escape, not only has their friendship grown but Leo has found himself gaining romantic feelings for her, only realizing after the comment she made about the moon weeks ago, but he’s gotten more and more flustered by her sweetness, he can’t stop thinking about her, and he’s decided it is time to not just confess but also reveal himself to her, only hoping that she won’t be disgusted by him.

The moon is high in the sky, a clear night, no clouds to be found while the quiet background noise of cars honking fades away as Leo focuses on her, having told her he had something to say, and her concentrated expression is making Leo even more blushy than he already is.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking about this for a week now and I just need to get this off my chest, I-I like you, a lot, more than as a friend, you’ve been nothing but kind to me even though you have no actual idea of who I am, and I just…I really like you…” Leo mutters out his true feelings, stuttering a few times as he fidgets with his hands, glancing up at her to find her smiling softly, her concentration had fallen into a soft blush.

Although his next words catches her attention, surprising her as she can hear him shift around, assuming he’s standing up. “And I want to show you myself too…just promise not to be weirded out or anything?” Leo takes a deep breath before stepping out of the shadows, finally showing himself.

His movements are stiff as he stands for a moment, taking her silence to be at least a good sign, she hadn’t started screaming so that had to be good? He steps over to the window so he’s closer to her, looking down at her as she’s resting her crossed arms on her windowsill, smiling up at him, expression having not changed at all, there is no disgust or hate, just her sweet smile.

“You’re…not weirded out that I’m a mutant turtle?” Leo raised a nonexistent eyebrow, confused on why she’s not a little confused or freaked out by his appearance, a blush still very present on his face, which he can’t distinguish if it’s from being flustered or embarrassed.

“Hehe…I uh…had my suspicions you probably weren’t a human from the beginning…I mean, no normal human could survive crashing through multiple fire escapes, not without multiple scraps of metal in them…” She chuckles sheepishly as he tilts her head while looking off to the side as she scratches the back of her neck.

“Oh…yeah, I should have probably thought about that.” Leo blinks before laughing along with her at the obvious answer to why he survived such a damaging blow. “So…uh, do you feel the same? If you don't, that's fine.” His laughs trail off as he looks back down at her with a suddenly shy expression.

“Hm…lean down for me, Leo?” She hums, waving him down with her hand, which makes Leo a bit confused but leans down so they’re more face to face now.

“Uh…what’s up-“ Leo was about to ask why she wanted him to lean down but was cut off when she pushed herself up on her windowsill to connect their lips with a soft yet quick kiss, a bright blush blooming on Leo’s face as she pulled back with a smirk.

“Yes, I feel the same.” She smirks at his blushing expression, his eyes wide as his mind has gone blank, his body slouching while she bites her lip to contain her snickering, covering her mouth as he blinks at her.

“Wha- I- you just-“ Leo can’t even get any words out as his brain had all but bluescreened at the sudden kiss, still processing the feeling of her soft lips against his.

“Oh god, you are so adorable…” She snickers quietly behind her hand, watching Leo just break after the kiss as her eyes widen as a low purring noise comes from him, which makes her snicker even harder.

Leo doesn’t even care as his entire demeanor softens, blinking for a moment as his expression turns into a soft smile, watching her snicker at his churring, just happy that he accidentally crashed onto her fire escape an entire month ago, because now he has the sweetest girl in the world as his girlfriend and he could not be happier, leaning back down to grab her wrist.

“That kiss was way too quick for me to appreciate it fully, darling.” Leo grins as he pulls her hand away from her mouth so he can cup her cheek and kiss her again, smiling softly against her lips while his tail wags behind him, feeling her giggle against him before returning the kiss.

————————————————

[Requests are open!]

[mozmamellz]

Kung Lao × Raiden

__________

little warning ; gay yaoi men who are scared of commitment n losing each other, probably out of character writing, tooth-rot fluff, accidental confession

prompt request by ; @karl00sz (tysm)

art in the middle is by ; @novicedraws

__________

“ You're the number one in my heart. „

Raiden is usually in control of the amulet, knowing his limits and always trying to push through and unlock something new, or that's what he thought. He didn't mean to, he didn't mean to almost shock his best friend to death, he didn't mean to go too rough.

But yet when Kung Lao insisted that he was fine, he couldn't help but carry the weight of guilt on him, knowing that he caused those bruises and scars on the man's body.

"When will you get that taken care of?" Raiden asked as they just finished their training, the bruise on Kung Lao's body never left, it's getting concerning. "It's fine, it'll rub off in a week, I already rinsed it in water." Kung Lao shrugged off as he tried cracking his shoulders and neck. Raiden stayed silent before he stood up from the bench. "It seems like not." Raiden told him as he crossed his arms and observed the stance Kung Lao has on.

Ever since that incident, Kung Lao has been sloppy, his balance is not as good as usual. Raiden sighed before he tried to reason with the man who was trying to fix his razor hat. "Lao, at least let me help, it'll reduce the amount of time you have to wait, it could last weeks, months, and you won't be able to train properly."

Kung Lao's eyebrows furrowed softly, before he looked up from the razored hat to face his 'best friend'. Seeing Raiden's concern and worry plastered on his face, he decided to just let Raiden win this one. Kung sighed softly before speaking up. "Sure, we can go to the medbay, the monks can patch me up, happy?" Raiden stayed silent as he nodded, but the change in his face was an obvious answer to Kung Lao, the look of satisfaction and delighted, and a relived look in his eyes, makes Kung Lao slightly weak on his knees.

Raiden just gave him a quick nod before he followed Kung Lao behind to the medbay. They didn't have any conversation, they just stayed quiet as they went. When Kung Lao slides the door open, no one was there. "They aren't here yet, guess we'll come back next time." Kung Lao said before he walked in and looked around, making sure there wasn't actually anyone.

Raiden stayed silent, ‘next time’ won't happen and he knows it, if they aren't here, then he will. Raiden quickly then took his surroundings. "Sit down." Raiden told Kung Lao, the man raised an eyebrow before sitting on the seat nearby. "Raiden, we can wait, it'll take a few hours, or minutes, depending on their break."

"Let me help you."

"Rairai, you don't have-"

"Let. Me."

Kung Lao could hear every emphasized word in that short sentence, so he stayed put as Raiden searched through the cabinet. Kung Lao watched his every move, softly mesmerized by the look of him, how did he get someone like Raiden in his life? let alone be his friend, it's impossible for Raiden to feel like that for him, it seems unrealistic and hopeless to even think about it. ‘Kung Lao? dating Raiden, Earthrealm's champions, the thunder god, yeah, no. It won't work.’

While he was getting patched, it was, quiet, too quiet for his liking, so he decided to teasingly ask. "Why are you even doing this? Don't you have anything else important to do, Thunder god?"

But he didn't get a word out of Raiden, but he watched Raiden stop midway bandaging him up. Kung Lao was slightly confused now, why is Raiden stopping?"

"I was..."

"..worried."

Kung Lao huffed, relieved, he was always like this, since childhood, worried about him. When Kung Lao was about to say some snarky comeback, Raiden spoke up again.

"I was scared, when I electrocuted you, I watched you squirm, yelped and gasped in pain, I was scared, that I might lose you, when the medics took too long to come over..I had a weight of guilt, I still do, I went too rough with you, I apologize, for making you, hurt, I wouldn't know what to do without you, I love you too much for you to die on me so easily, and over my careless actions."

Kung Lao stayed silent as he began processing the man's word, ‘he was scared, he had a weight of guilt, he wouldn't know what to do with me..and..wait..did he say he loves me?’

"Did you, just confess to me?" Kung Lao asked him aloud, wanting him to confirm his words, instead of Raiden just love bombing him, he wouldn't want that.

Raiden stayed silent before he slowly nodded, and finally looked ahead to look at him. "Yeah, I guess." Raiden murmured before he confirmed it. "I truly do love you." Kung Lao had a soft red tint covering his cheeks as he stayed silent, ‘holy fuck..it's, mutual.’

"Oh Raiden, you don't know how long I waited for you to say that." Kung Lao said happily before he moved his body to face him and hugged him tightly, burying his face against his shoulder as he sighs in relief, knowing his months or years of pinning was worth it after all.

Raiden stayed silent, letting the injured man hug him, but he couldn't help but let a gentle smile out before he slowly put his arms around him and tightened his grip around him. This wasn't some dream, it was reality, a reality they both could live in together, in harmony, and in each others arms.

[justaghostysposts]

Okay so i saw your last few posts and i love your art style which is why i decided to follow you (like you're so amazing at what you do!!! 💖) so i wanted to ask you to draw my oc Jué(you can do whatever you feel like doing)

Just for funsies

Hope you have a great day! 🫶🏻

Jhjgjbhguhiuhgv-

Thank you so much!! :D

I had a lot of fun doing her! Tysm for the request! ✨

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[nereidprinc3ss]

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied. 

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details. 

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name. 

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror. 

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause. 

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it. 

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort. 

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is. 

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably. 

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing. 

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—” 

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face. 

Oh. He was fucking with you. 

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer. 

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.  

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you. 

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.  

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies. 

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic. 

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you. 

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room. 

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder. 

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back. 

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately. 

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin. 

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are. 

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer. 

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach. 

Something resembling jealousy. 

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid. 

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you. 

You swallow and try to act like yourself. 

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see. 

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.  

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in. 

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively. 

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place. 

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable. 

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job. 

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it. 

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown. 

She makes a good point. 

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail. 

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut. 

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer. 

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl. 

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen. 

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny. 

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are. 

[aegonstradwife]

exposure therapy | aemond targaryen x reader

summary: anonymous requested; you and aemond were recently married. you're afraid of him, but aemond goes to great lengths to show you he's not that scary.

warnings: excessive use of ellipses, #1 wife lover aemond targaryen, brief mention of childhood trauma, smut. (fingering, face riding, oral.)

a. note:link to the original request.

As Aemond's new wife, it's surprising how little time you spend together. The servants whisper about it around every corner; how you skulk through the halls hoping to avoid him, how nearly every meal you take is apart from each other.

But there's a very good reason for this, one that you've never admitted to anyone.

You are terrified of him.

Even at night, you might share the same bed, but it's big enough that you can sleep soundly without ever once touching him. Although even that was difficult at first; those first few nights you dreaded climbing into bed with him and got nearly no sleep at all.

He is so much bigger, and much stronger, than you. He really could do anything he wanted to you and you would have no chance of fighting him off.

Eventually, however, Aemond's still body beside yours throughout the night, you realized he either wouldn't, or didn't want to, touch you. And finally you were able to get some sleep.

But now, though sleep comes much more easily and your nights are no longer fraught with peril at the thought of him forcing himself upon you, it still doesn't mean you have any desire to be around him.

And you thought he felt much the same. Until tonight.

Aemond is already comfortable on the settee by the window, reading, when you retire to your shared bedchamber for the night.

Hells bent as usual on ignoring him, you busy yourself with removing your shoes in front of the wardrobe.

"Come. Sit with me."

In the quiet of the room, Aemond's sudden, uncharacteristic, voice makes you jump, going very still. His tone is soft; now that you think on it, you've heard Aemond's voice very few times, either before or after you were married.

In your mind, the few times you had heard him speak, you remember him sounding like a complete barbarian. Not this lilting, almost melodic, softness....

Straightening, you nervously smooth the skirts of your dress down over your thighs. Aemond's silhouette is stark against the candles guttering on the windowsill.

You gulp, starting to tiptoe toward him, but stopping at the opposite arm of the settee. "Do I have to?" You ask quietly, and even that takes every ounce of courage in your weary body.

This is probably as close as you've ever been to him when not in bed together at night.

"I won’t bite." Aemond's lips are quirked in a half smirk. He closes the book in his hands and sets it aside, patting the space beside him. "I assure you, I won’t hurt you. Come. Sit."

Though he had indicated the middle cushion, you sweep your skirts under you and take a seat on the one beside it, furthest from Aemond.

Normally you would have loved sitting and reading by candlelight, the cool breeze from the open windows ruffling your hair.

But now you bite your lip, heart hammering hard against your ribcage like a frightened bird.

Aemond can feel the tension radiating off of you. Your shoulders tight as a bow string, the muscles in your jaw taut, hands folded in your lap fidgeting with a loose thread on your gown.

He simple looks at you for a very long moment. Your features are delicate, almost fragile, your frame small and dainty when compared to his. To Aemond, you look very much like a porcelain doll. He has no idea how someone could be so beautiful and yet so…. breakable.

You glance nervously at him, wondering what he could possibly be thinking.

"What?" You ask, though you keep your voice low, not wanting to anger him.

"You're afraid of me," Aemond states bluntly. He leans against the back of the settee, studying you with one intense purple eye. "Why?"

You laugh aloud, unable to stop yourself. Now seems as good a time as any to tell him exactly what you've been thinking since your wedding day.

"Look at you. And look at me. You could do whatever you want to me and I wouldn't be able to stop you. Not to mention...." You shrug. "The stories about you aren't kind...."

Aemond raises an eyebrow at your laughter, that same small, wry smile never leaving his lips. He can't help but wonder if you're mocking him as he leans forward, gaze still locked with yours.

"And what do the stories say about me, little wife?" His voice is low, a dangerous, frightening edge to it.

For seemingly the first time, you look your husband in the eye. One piercing violet eye stares back, the other covered by his customary eyepatch. "They say you're a fearsome warrior, one of the strongest swordsmen alive. And they say.... they say you killed that boy. Rhaenyra's son...."

Aemond’s eye narrows. There is so much uncertainty in that gaze of yours, something about your innocent face makes Aemond feel.... bad. His jaw clenches and he leans back.

"Lucerys Velaryon. Yes, I did kill him. Though I didn't mean to.... I lost control."

"You didn't?" Your eyes narrow as well, suspicious of him. "Then.... what did you mean to do?"

Your husband lets out a long sigh and crosses his arms. "I meant to scare him. I was.... angry. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to frighten and humiliate him. And I did not have such good control over Vhagar as I do now...."

At the mention of his dragon, you perk up - that's one thing you've always been curious about. The Targaryen dragons are so beautiful and powerful; you would love to ride one one day, if given the chance.

"So your dragon, she disobeyed you?"

Aemond is clearly taken aback by your interest in Vhagar. For a moment, it seemed you forgot you were supposed to be scared of him. He tries to hide the hint of surprise flickering across his face.

"Well, yes and no," Aemond says, diplomatic. "Vhagar is a very old and powerful dragon, and she is used to doing what she wants. Sometimes.... it's difficult for any Targaryen to control a dragon, even the strongest of riders."

You are positively fascinated, hearing about Vhagar, leaning in toward Aemond without realizing. "What is it like, riding her? Does it ever get cold, so high up?"

Aemond can smell your perfume as you lean toward him, a mix of jasmine and honey, faint yet sweet. He clears his throat.

"Riding Vhagar is like nothing else," he tells you. "And yes, it does get cold at times, but the feeling of the wind in your hair and the power of the dragon beneath you is.... indescribable."

"Do you think she'd let me ride her?" At this point, you're nearly nose to nose with Aemond, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Or do they only let Targaryens?"

Aemond freezes, gaze still locked with yours, your heads so close together that he can feel your breath ghost across his lips. He is surprised by your question and even more surprised by how badly he wants to fulfill the request.

"They only let Targaryens ride them, yes," he says, voice sounding much huskier than he intends. "But.... I'm sure Vhagar wouldn't mind letting someone else ride her.... if I were to accompany them."

"Would you?" You reach out, hand finding his thigh and giving a thankful squeeze. Realizing what you've done, how close you've become to him, you quickly snatch that hand back as though Aemond is on fire. "I'm so sorry...."

Aemond’s eye widens; for a heartbeat, your touch sent a shock through his entire body.

"It's alright." His voice is rough. “Don’t apologize....” He catches your wrist gently, before you can pull your hand away completely. "It was.... nice."

You tense, wrist caught in his strong embrace. "What are you doing?"

For a long moment, Aemond doesn't respond, simply staring at your slender wrist in his hand. Your skin is so smooth, so soft. He can feel your pulse beating against his palm, fast and fluttering like the wings of a small bird.

"Doing?" He finally asks, looking up at you with a sly smile. "Just.... holding your hand, that’s all."

"Holding my.... oh." All things considered, Aemond is handsome, you suppose. With his long silver hair, that chiseled jaw, the little moue of his lips. "You.... you really aren't all that scary, are you?"

Chuckling softly, Aemond's fingers gently stroke the skin of your wrist. Your words, spoken almost as a question, take him by surprise.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he says, his voice low and slightly amused. "And I don’t want to be scary, to you. Can I be honest with you, little wife?"

You nod, letting him continue to stroke that sensitive bit of skin around your wrist. He is very gentle, which has taken you by surprise.

"The truth is," he mutters, "I don't like it when you're scared of me. I don't like the way you look at me, as if you think I'm going to pounce on you and tear you apart at any moment. That's not what I want."

Slowly, still wary of him, you curl your fingers around his thumb and Aemond's breath hitches. Your hand is small compared to his; Aemond's fingers look massive beside yours.

"Everyone else seems so frightened of you. I thought.... I should be as well. I didn't know, that you hadn't meant to kill that boy. Have you told anyone else that?"

“No,” he says after a moment. “No one else knows. I haven't told anyone.”

He pauses, looking down at your hand in his. His other hand comes to trap your fingers inside of his palms, his thumbs tracing back and forth over your skin. “You’re the first I've shared this with.”

"You should tell others, that way no one will be scared of you."

Aemond lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze still fixed on your fingers intertwined with his own.

“I quite like others being afraid of me,” he admits. The smile on his face fades, just a bit, in the flickering candlelight. “But not you.”

"Not me?" You query, a sweet blush rising high on your cheeks. "Why not me?"

Aemond’s eye is drawn to that color blooming across your cheeks, the innocent flush sending a strange feeling coursing through him. He continues to stroke your wrist in a gentle, almost reverent, way.

"A wife should not be afraid of her husband," he says finally, his voice soft. "She should be worshipped by him....”

Slowly, so as not to startle you, he brings your wrist to his lips and places a gentle kiss there.

You lick your lips, nervous as all seven hells with the way things are going. Not only are you still afraid of Aemond - though growing less so by the moment - you have also never been close like this with anyone else before.

"And why.... why is it so important for other people to be afraid of you?"

Aemond’s lips linger over your skin, the faintest ghost of a smile there. He can feel the way your hand trembles slightly in his, the nervous flutter of your pulse against his fingertips. But he also notices how you don’t draw back, how you sit still and allow him to hold you.

“It's.... payback, almost,” he confesses. “For the torment I suffered as a child. It is better to be feared than loved - no one will ever again treat me the way they did when I was young.”

You are not aware of any torment in Aemond's childhood, though that isn't saying much. Of course the Targaryens keep much of what goes on between them a secret. Even now that you're married, you're hardly privy to all - or even most - of their secrets.

"Is that.... how this happened?" Shaking ever so slightly, you raise a hand to Aemond's face, fingers stroking the strap of his eyepatch.

As your slender fingers brushed against the edge of it, Aemond tenses, every muscle in his body going taut. No one has ever touched him there before, and it's an unfamiliar intimacy.

He closes his eye for a moment, trying to control his reaction, before speaking. “Yes,” he says, his voice thick with emotions he finds difficult to name. “That's how this happened.”

You feel for Aemond; having to grow up that way must have been torture.

Pulling your hand gently from his grasp, you bring both up to hook beneath the rough leather strap. "May I?"

His breathing hitches as your hands tug gently at the straps of his eyepatch. He knows your touch is innocent.... but no one has ever dared to remove it for him before. He nods once, his voice low.

“You may.”

With fierce concentration and a desire not to ruin his perfect hair, you slide the eyepatch up and off, gasping at the gorgeous sapphire glimmering where his eye should be.

"Gods, it's beautiful, Aemond." Letting the patch rest in your lap, you run your fingers lightly over the scar tissue below Aemond's eye. "Who did this to you?"

Aemond's breath hitches again, rougher this time, as he feels the tips of your slender fingers graze the scarred tissue around his eye, the touch stirring something deep within him. The feeling of your touch against the sensitive skin there is almost overwhelming.

He swallows hard, that old pain and anger bubbling up inside of him.

"My.... nephew," he finally says, his voice surprisingly even. "Lucerys Velaryon."

You inhale sharply; all you can think of is that if Aemond had really meant to kill the boy, he would have been well within his right to, after having been mutilated like this.

Grabbing for his hands, you hurry to say something. "Aemond, I-"

But your husband cuts you off. "There is one other reason it's important for others to be afraid of me."

"A-And what is that?" You ask, holding his hands close to your bosom.

"So that I can protect my wife, and my family." That sapphire is positively glowing in the light of the flickering candles. "The more afraid people are of me, the less likely they are to try and harm me, or you, or our family.... once we make one...."

His declaration takes all the air from your lungs, and you find it hard to breathe. "If I had known all of this, I.... I would never have been so frightened of you. I'm sorry, Aemond."

You cast around desperately for something else to say, some other way to apologize.

"Do not apologize."

His voice is gentle, yet firm. Your hands are still holding his against your breast, and he can feel the warmth of your skin even through the layers of your gown, the rapid beat of your heart.

"You didn't know, it is not your fault for being afraid," he soothes you. "But.... now that you know.... may I ask you something else?"

You nod, eager now to answer Aemond's questions and to ask more of your own - you want to learn so much more about him.

Aemond's fingers tighten around yours, the feel of your soft skin against his own sending a strange heat through his veins. He draws you in a little closer, his face now so close to yours that he can feel the warmth of your breath, that same scent of sweet honey and jasmine in your hair.

"You.... have not shied away from my scar, or my missing eye," he says, his voice a low whisper. "You have touched them, caressed them even.... why?"

Why...? You find it odd he even has to ask.

"Because I think they make you beautiful. Is that wrong?"

Your thumbs find his wrists now, pressing in against his pulse points, which are fluttering erratically.

Aemond's breath catches in his throat, the feeling of your dainty thumbs resting against his wrists, feeling the rapid beating of his pulse, setting his skin on fire. Your words, declaring him beautiful, ring in his ears, stirring something deep within his chest.

"Be-Beautiful?" He repeats, his voice a terrible croak. No one.... no one has ever called him beautiful. The word sounds strange in his ears, as if they're not meant for someone like him.

You nod, and after only a momentary hesitation, you bring one hand up again to his scar. This time, brushing the side closest to his hairline, a few strands of long silver hair getting in the way.

"Beautiful, Aemond. You're beautiful. I mean.... I did always think that. Just.... was too afraid of you to tell you. Do you forgive me?"

Aemond's breath hitches once more as your fingers stroke his hair, your soft touch sending a shiver down his spine. No one, no one, has ever touched his scar with such tenderness, such care.

"I.... I forgive you," he whispers, voice raw. "And for what it's worth.... I'm sorry, that I.... that I made you afraid of me. I never wanted that, I swear."

"I know. It wasn't even your fault, really." You roll your eyes, relaxing against the back of the settee. "I was just.... assuming that what everyone else said was true. Which is a terrible thing, really. My parents raised me much better than that."

A particularly chilly gust of wind blows in through the window and you wrap your arms around yourself. "I have to admit, I thought if my shenanigans went on much longer, you'd be forced to.... well, force yourself on me...."

Aemond is silent, as if that thought, the notion of forcing himself on you, is something he refuses to even consider. He turns to look at you, the pale glow of his sapphire eye giving him an otherworldly appearance.

"I.... I would never force you to do anything, little wife, not ever," he says, his voice low and serious. "I believe the first time a man and wife.... are together.... it should be.... enjoyable.... for both of them."

Suddenly, all words are caught in your throat. The thought of your first time with Aemond still makes you nervous, even knowing that he would never want to do anything against your will.

"I thought.... a woman's first time was always painful?" That's what you've always been told. You have never done anything of the sort, but perhaps Aemond knows better.

At your words, Aemond's jaw tightens. His fingers clench into a fist, the thought of you in pain during your first time together sending a wave of anger through him.

"No. No, never. It shouldn't be painful, not unless you don't want it, too," he says, his voice low and urgent. "Your first time should be.... enjoyable. Pleasant. I would never take you simply for my own pleasure. I would make sure you...." he falters.

Flinching slightly away from him at the sight of his hand in a fist, you gasp softly. Have you said something wrong?

Still, you dare to ask, "You would make sure I what?"

In the candlelight, Aemond's eye flashes dangerously and that sapphire blazes.

He takes a very deep breath, forcing himself to relax, to open his hand again. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, "I.... I don't like the idea of hurting you, it.... makes me angry."

He looks down at you again.

"I would make sure that you.... felt pleasure as well. It wouldn't be about me. It's about both of us."

If you had known how protective Aemond was of you, you would have asked him about these things sooner. He is, after all, the only person you can think to ask. If you can't discuss bedroom matters with your husband, who can you discuss them with?

"How does it feel?" You ask him softly, scooting closer to him on the settee. "When you have sex, how does it feel?"

Aemond is taken somewhat off guard by the sudden question, his cheeks going pink at your unexpected candor, but he doesn't back down. He doesn't want to shy away from your questions, not when you're so close to him, peering at him through those wide, innocent eyes.

He takes another deep breath, shifting on the settee so he can face you fully.

"it.... it feels.... good," he begins, his voice a low rumble. "It feels.... full. Warm. Tight. But.... good. More than good, especially when you do it with someone you care about. It feels safe, like nothing can hurt you ever again."

The look on Aemond's face as he speaks is one you've never seen before - something vulnerable and almost childlike staring back at you. You wonder how you could ever have been afraid of him.

"And you? Who was your first time with?"

As your question hangs in the air between the two of you, Aemond goes stock-still. No one has ever asked him that before.

He hesitates for a moment, peering warily at you. "Why.... why do you want to know?" He asks finally, voice cautious.

Now you know you've definitely said something wrong. "I was just curious," you hurry to tell him. "It's wrong of me to pry, I'm sorry...."

Aemond sighs softly, shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he says, his voice a light simper now. He reaches out, taking your hand gently in his.

"It's okay, I just.... wasn't expecting you to ask that." He pauses, and you can see a flicker of something run across his face. "You.... you really want to know?"

"I do," you admit bashfully. "If you feel comfortable telling me?"

Aemond's hand grips yours a little tighter, your words sending a strange, tight feeling through hm. He hasn't thought about that night in a long time, and the memory is still painful enough to make him wince.

"All right," he says, letting out a slow breath. "I.... I'll tell you. Just.... just don't.... don't judge me, all right?"

"I won't judge," you assure him with a shake of your head.

Aemond looks down at your intertwined hands, his fingers tracing a light pattern against your palm. He closes his eye, gathering his thoughts, before lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a barely-there kiss to your knuckles.

"My.... my first time," he begins, and his voice is rough, "was with a whore, in a pleasure house, at the behest of my brother who frequented - and still frequents - them much more than I did."

"I don't think that's anything to be ashamed of," you admit, mulling the idea over. "Most men visit those types of places at some point in their lives.... don't they?"

Aemond pauses for a moment, his eye locking with yours. He looks almost surprised by your response, as if he hadn't thought you would be so blasé about the situation.

"Yes...." he says slowly, "they do. But.... it's not.... it's not the sort of thing a wife would expect to hear, about their husband's past exploits."

You chew your lip thoughtfully, running your fingers around and through the spaces between Aemond's. "I don't mind, as long as...."

You hesitate, wondering if you really want to say this now or leave it for another night. "What I mean to say, Aemond, is that.... now that we understand each other better.... perhaps you can show me what it's like? Sex? And, if you do, I expect there to be no more pleasure houses in your future, is that clear?"

Aemond's gaze darkens as your words register, his heart stuttering in his chest. His fingers twitch against yours, breath catching in his throat.

"You.... you want me to show you...?" He repeats weakly, his eye wide and disbelieving.

You close your fingers tightly around Aemond's now, leaning in toward your husband. "Mm. But as I said, you must promise - no more pleasure houses. After all, you did say you want to worship me, did you not?"

Aemond's head swims with your words, his heart hammering in his chest so hard it's difficult to catch his breath. The way you're looking at him, the sweetness in your voice, the scent of honey and jasmine in your hair.... all of it is almost too much to bear.

He swallows hard, and nods. "No more pleasure houses. I promise," he whispers, his voice hoarse and rough.

His oath sets you at ease, but there's one more thing you must tell him.

"I must admit, Aemond, I'm still scared...."

He looks about to interrupt, but you cut him off. "Oh, not of you. I'm.... terrified of the pain. I've never done well with pain, and I'm so scared it's going to hurt like hell."

Aemond's heart twists at the worry and fear in your voice, his fingers tightening over yours. He hates the thought of you being scared, hates his own inability to take that fear away from you.

"Why do you still think it's going to be painful?" He asks quietly.

Instead of making you feel trapped, his fingers around yours make you feel safe. Aemond is lethal; you can see it in his face, in the hard line of his body. But he wants to use all of that to protect you....

Though what could he possibly do to prevent his own body from hurting you, even though he might not mean to?

"That's all I've ever been told." You gulp. "A woman's first time is always painful. And.... There's always blood."

Aemond's jaw clenches in anger. He doesn't know who planted these false, hurtful notions in your head, but he wants to tear them limb from limb.

He reaches out to you, tilting your head gently up to meet his gaze. "No. No, no, no," he says, his voice low and intense. "It's not supposed to be painful, especially the first time. You've just.... you've been told wrong."

He pauses. "Sometimes there is blood, I won't lie to you about that. But there are ways to minimize the chance of that."

Aemond's fingers start to skirt back and forth under your chin. "How .... How can we stop there being so much blood? I want you to show me."

Heart now beating much faster, Aemond's stomach twists with a mixture of desire and trepidation. He swallows, hard, his eye dark and heavy-lidded as he gazes down at you.

He runs his fingers through your hair, the soft feel of it against his skin maddening. "I can show you," he murmurs, "but.... you have to trust me."

"Of course. I do now." You turn your face toward his hand, palm skimming your cheek as he touches your hair. "I know you'll take care of me."

He takes another deep breath to steady himself, his hand coming to rest against the side of your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he whispers, "because I will, always. But there's something.... something I need to know first."

You shiver, Aemond's fingers reverent along your cheek and jaw. "What is it?"

Fingers now trailing down your neck, he pauses, hand coming to rest on your collarbone, your pulse beating fast and hard against his palm.

Aemond leans in close, his voice a rumble in your ear. "You.... you have never even been touched, have you?"

You are very aware of how hard your heart is beating, thumping underneath his fingers. "I haven't.... is that bad?"

Aemond breathes heavily, pulling back to look at you.

"No," he says emphatically, "it's not bad. It's.... it's just...." He trails off for a moment, struggling to find the words. "I need to know.... if you're still.... if you're still intact."

The question makes you blush furiously, looking down at your laps, side by side, so you don't have to look Aemond in the eye. "I.... yes.... isn't that where the blood comes from?"

You don't know much, but you do know that.

He places two fingers gently under your chin, coaxing you to look up at him again.

"Yes," he says, "that's where the blood comes from. But it can break in other ways. For instance, from fingers or.... other objects." His fingers trace along your cheek, obviously trying to soothe your growing discomfort at this conversation.

"But it.... it doesn't have to," he adds after a moment.

You chuckle, reluctantly meeting Aemond's gaze. "Can we try?"

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand now trailing back down your neck, slowly caressing. "Are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

You nod fervently, gripping onto his wrist. "Positively. Now that I understand you better, I can think of no one else I'd like to teach me such things...."

He leans in, lips brushing your ear again, breath hot against your skin. "Then I will," he murmurs, his voice an uneven, ragged whisper, "I will show you. And I will take my time."

Long have you waited for someone to come along and share this experience with you. When you were initially betrothed to Aemond, you thought all hope was lost - he was so frightening and the thought of sharing a bed with him sent a shiver of panic through you.

But now.... Women have desires just as much as men do, surely... At least you know you do. And Aemond is offering to take care of them for you....

You steady yourself with a hand on Aemond's chest, nails digging into the soft cotton of his tunic. "Please.... I want it."

Aemond's stomach clenches, your soft, pleading voice sending a bolt of white hot desire through him.

"Patience," he murmurs, his sizeable palm laid against the back of your hand on his chest, "I'll take care of you, I promise. I just need you to relax for me, all right?"

"Mm, I'll try...." With another nod, you take a deep breath, shuddering at the feeling of Aemond's big hand covering yours entirely. "Maybe a drink would serve to relax me better...?"

This gives Aemond pause, and he pulls back slightly, his eye raking over your face, taking in the soft blush on your cheeks, the way your lips are parted as you catch your breath.

He gives a single, slow nod. "Yes," he admits, "I think a drink might help."

Without another word, he moves to a small table on the other side of the room, pouring you each a generous glass of sweet wine.

As he does so, you finger the pendant at your throat, a gift from your late mother. The way Aemond looks at you; any woman would be lucky to have a husband who looks at her that way. Like you're precious, like he would do anything to protect you.

Once offered your glass, you take it and swallow a large mouthful, hoping to get drunk as quickly as possible, to make this whole ordeal more bearable.

Aemond watches you closely, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he sees you gulp the wine so quickly. He knows you're trying to get drunk, trying to use the alcohol as a crutch to make this easier.

"There's no need to rush," he says quietly, taking a seat beside you again, his knee bumping yours. He lifts his own glass to his lips, taking a slow, measured drink.

Swallowing another substantial mouthful of wine, you furtively watch the way Aemond's lips purse around the rim of his glass.

You smooth the skirts of your dress down, taking a deep breath. "I just want to be as relaxed as possible for you, Aemond."

He continues to watch you, that striking violet eye taking in every tiny detail - the way your fingers grasp the fabric of your dress, the soft movement of your body underneath the silk.

He takes a deep breath, his eye watching you as he drains the last of the wine from the glass. "I know," he murmurs, his voice a husky rumble, "but there's no need to get completely drunk, my love."

"It can't hurt." You upend the first glass of wine, draining the last dregs, and hold your glass out toward him. "Another?"

Apparently highly amused, Aemond raises a brow, but refuses to pour you another.

"I think that's quite enough. There's no need to be quite so drunk tonight, I promise."

You pout, setting your glass aside, but starting to feel a pleasant warmth wash over you from the first glass all the same.

"How do we start?" You question, leaning in close to him. Aemond smells of chamomile and sweat and.... maybe just a hint of blood? It's the best thing you've ever smelled.

Aemond reaches for you suddenly, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you gently onto his lap so you can straddle him.

The next breath he takes rattles through him as you settle on top of him, his hands gripping your waist, heart beating fast. "We.... we start here," he whispers, his voice a rough murmur.

"Goodness," you breathe, hands curling over his shoulders to steady yourself. "And.... what do we do here?"

You're trying your best to be brave, and the wine is making it easier, but there is still that niggling worry at the back of your mind, chanting blood blood blood.

Aemond feels that slight tremble in your hands as you grab his shoulders, the way you hesitate and swallow nervously as you ask your question. He can practically hear your thoughts racing, paying attention to the fear and trepidation in your words.

He leans in close, hands slipping from your waist to bracket your ribs, pulling you flush against him, your body cradled easily in his lap. "We start like this," he murmurs, his fingers gently tilting your chin up to look at him. "Just like this."

Slowly, fingers gentle but firm on your chin, he's bringing you in for a kiss.

The sound that leaves your mouth at the first dry press of your lips together is embarrassing. You curse. "I'm sorry." You bite your lip hard, searching Aemond's one violet eye for forgiveness. "Can we try again?"

Aemond chuckles good-naturedly, hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs tracing slow, gentle patterns over your cheeks.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he whispers, leaning ever closer to you, his breath hot against your lips. "We can try as many times as you like, darling."

With a hand again around his wrist to steady yourself, you don't have far to go, what with Aemond's face so close to yours. You press your lips to his - soft yet firm. Your other hand slides up the outside of his thigh as you open your mouth under his, grateful for his willingness to teach you.

You hear Aemond's breath hitch again as he feels your hand moving up his leg, the touch of your slim, soft fingers against his body sending a shiver down his spine. He groans as you open your mouth, his tongue immediately seeking yours, tangling, tasting, claiming.

He grips your hair in one hand, angling your head back so he can deepen the kiss, his other hand back to gripping your hip, pulling you tighter against him.

You do the same, hands migrating down, loving the feeling of Aemond's slim, strong muscle under your fingers. As you kiss, you surreptitiously move the thin cloth of Aemond's tunic aside so you can touch him skin to skin over his sharp hipbones.

This earns you a keen inhale from your husband, who jerks away from you.

"I'm sorry," you breathe. "Is this okay?"

His mouth has opened in a gasp against yours, eyes squeezing shut.

When they open again, he merely looks at you, taking in the soft, pink flush of your cheeks, the way your pupils are thoroughly dilated, your chest heaving. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself. "Yes," he says ruggedly, his voice a scratchy gasp, "I'm sorry, it is. It's okay."

A flood of warmth washes over you, and you grin. You don't know why, but you want to kiss his neck.

Fingers digging hard into his hip, you lean in, nosing his long hair out of the way as your lips meet his neck, sucking and biting. Aemond tastes clean and faintly of rose water.

Aemond's head tips back immediately, giving your lips and teeth free reign over his neck, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the unfamiliar sensation. A soft, low moan escapes him as your mouth traces a path along the sensitive skin of his neck.

His body arches against yours. "My love," he gasps, his voice a ragged, breathless plea, "this is maddening."

"Need you to teach me," is your reply, pushing harder against him. "Don't go mad just yet."

He runs his hands down your sides, skimming over the soft, silky material of your dress, his body reacting powerfully to your closeness. "Gods, woman," he gasps, thumbs playing idly along the edge of your ribs, "are you sure you haven't done this before?"

You rest your cheek on Aemond's shoulder, nose brushing along the chiseled line of his jaw. "Positive," you sigh, arms now slung around him. "But I like the way you touch me. It's making me feel all hot and wet.... down there."

At this declaration, Aemond makes a noise you've never heard anyone make before. He nuzzles against your collarbone, pressing slow, hot kisses along the line of your chest just visible over the collar of your dress.

His mouth is starting to curve into a wicked smile. "Do you want me to touch you there, too?"

With a nod, you begin to pull the folds of your dress up over your thighs. "Please. The feeling down there, it's.... very insistent." And Aemond's fingers look perfectly long and warm and rough with calluses.

Aemond swallows hard as he watches the fabric of your dress retreat up over your thighs, the soft, bare skin of your legs suddenly exposed to him. His gaze rakes over you, taking in every detail - the soft, pale flesh, the way the candlelight casts shadows over the curves of your body.

As though trying not to startle you, Aemond runs his knuckles painstakingly slowly up the inside of your thigh. "When we were first betrothed, I knew I had gotten lucky."

That drunken haze still hovering around you, you let your legs slip further apart around him. "Lucky? How so?"

His hand moves further up, touch feather-light against her skin. "Lucky," he murmurs, "because I knew I'd be marrying the most beautiful woman in all Seven Kingdoms."

He lets his hand move higher still, fingers stopping just before they reach the edge of your smallclothes. He pauses, looking intently at you, the question plain on his face.

"I never knew you thought I was beautiful...." You lean more against him, feeling impossibly safe and comfortable in his embrace. "Please. You can."

Hips canting forward, you try to push his hand in toward you.

"The most beautiful," he replies. He can feel your hips moving subtly against his, feel his own desire rising with every move you make.

Those long fingers hook into the edge of your smallclothes, running the backs of his knuckles along the sensitive bit of skin he finds there.

Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his gentle fingers finally scooping up under your dress making your stomach flip nervously. "Please." The word is uttered against Aemond's chin, where you've pressed your lips as you wait to feel his hand where you need it most.

As slowly as he an manage, he insinuates those fingers fully inside your smallclothes. He can feel the heat of your skin, the way you squirm in his lap as he moves closer to his destination, his own body reacting strongly to the anticipation.

He leans in, mouth finding yours in a heated, hungry kiss, his fingers finally, finally touching that wet, sensitive flesh between your thighs.

A sharp inhale accompanies the meeting of Aemond's hand to your sex. Everything down there feels so wet already, you suppose you should be embarrassed, but the wine is making it hard to feel so, which you're grateful for.

"Aemond...." Seeking his lips for another kiss, you mutter, "please don't stop."

One long finger sinks into your wet, hot flesh, his entire body shivering at the feeling of you beneath his hands. He lets out a ragged gasp as you kiss him, mouth moving fervently against yours, tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with yours.

With a low, gruff noise, he starts to move his finger inside of you, slow, gentle circles that make your muscles tighten and twitch against his hand. "I won't," he murmurs against your lips, his eyes squeezed shut, "I promise, I won't."

Aemond's finger has slid easily into you, all the way down to the knuckle. "Is it -?" You gasp, glancing down, tugging your skirts out of the way to see better. "It's inside? I thought it would be much more painful...."

You know it might not be the same with his manhood, which is surely a fair bit bigger than one of his fingers, but you're glad things have gone smoothly so far all the same.

Aemond's other hand presses itself solidly against that little bundle of nerves, the one you're familiar with, the one that makes you see stars, and you bite his lower lip a little too hard in response.

"Shit, sorry."

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your reaction, his lips curving into a smile against your mouth. "No need to apologize, sweet girl," he mutters. "There's a possibility it might hurt more than this when we go further, but I promise I'll be gentle."

He moves his finger in and out of you slowly, his other hand still pressing against you, the pad of his thumb circling that swollen bud, his touch gentle but firm. "How does this feel?"

A pang of fear shoots through you at his declaration that you will likely be in pain later on, but it's soothed by the way Aemond's fingers are gently coaxing themselves inside of you and over your clit.

"It feels perfect, Aemond. I never even knew it could feel this good." Not even when you'd touched yourself in bed at night.

Aemond's eye darkens as he hears your words, the sound of your voice, gutted and breathless, making his stomach clench. "This is just the beginning, sweet girl. There's so much more I can show you."

He slips another finger into you, feeling your body tighten and go taut around him, his own body still reacting powerfully to the sight and feel of you. He leans in to kiss you again, his mouth hungrily claiming yours.

With another finger inside, you start to squirm in his lap, and your hand slips, colliding with something hard inside of Aemond's trousers.

"Aemond," you gasp, "it.... it's hard."

Aemond lets out a strangled noise as your hand brushes against him, his body shuddering, his eye squeezing shut. "Ah, shit, sweetheart," he gasps, his breath ragged, "Don't do that."

He looks at you, his breath coming in quick, rough pants, his eye darkened to a deep, intense violet. "I'm going to be patient with you."

He says this like he's trying to convince himself of it.

"I'm sorry," you gasp again, hands flying to your mouth. "I didn't mean to touch it...."

Gaze flickering to the windows, to the Targaryen flags flying from every turret, you stifle a smile. "But maybe.... maybe you don't have to be so patient...."

Aemond growls at your words, fingers slowing their ministrations over you. "How impatient would you have me be?"

You reach down to take his free hand - the one currently touching your clit in nice, soft circles - in yours, lacing your fingers as you lean into him. "Still gentle, just.... Maybe lead me? Show me how things like this should be done."

Aemond can practically feel his self-restraint slipping at your words, the feeling of your small, soft hand in his making his head spin. He takes a deep breath, trying desperately to maintain control, to keep up the facade of gentility.

He grips your chin with his free hand, lifting your face to meet his eye, his voice low and rough. "Are you sure you're ready for that?" He asks, the question almost pained.

"I am. I'm sure." You wrap your shoulders around him, burying your face against his neck. "Take me to bed and show me, please."

Aemond swallows hard, the feeling of your breath against him sending a shudder through him. Lifting you easily in his arms, he stands silently from the settee.

The loss of Aemond's fingers from inside of you makes you whine, clinging to his broad shoulders as he makes his way to the bed.

He lays you gently down, crawling over you, hand once again trailing up the soft expanse of your thigh.

"Aemond...."

A sweet noise rumbles through him as he positions himself on top of you, body pressing you down against the covers, hips slotting between your legs. His gaze as he looks down on you is fiery, eye raking over your body, hands gripping and kneading the supple flesh of your thighs.

"You drive me mad, do you know that?" He murmurs. He leans down to kiss your neck, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

With Aemond on top of you, you reach around to tug the back of his tunic up, skimming your fingers along the warm skin of his lower back.

"Why did you never.... tell me before?" You mutter quietly, nibbling at Aemond's earlobe.

Aemond allows himself a deep moan as you touch him, your fingers roaming over his skin, your mouth on his ear. He rolls his hips against you, the aching hardness of his body weighing you down.

"Gods, I don't know," he gasps, his hands roaming over the soft curves of your body. "Maybe I could tell you were afraid of me. Maybe I was a fool."

"I suppose we both were fools." You curl your tongue around Aemond's ear, teasing.

His hardness is pressing insistently against you through your clothes. Aemond leans his forehead to yours. "I'm going to take your dress off now. Is that alright?"

You've never been naked in front of anyone before, but Aemond is making you feel so safe that you nod hurriedly, sitting up. "Yes, please."

Aemond's eye darkens at your nod, his hands immediately going to the laces of your dress, working them loose until the fabric falls away from your body. He lets his gaze roam over your exposed skin, his fingers tracing the soft planes of your body, reverent and gentle.

"Seven Hells," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper, "I've never seen anything so perfect."

The wine allows you to feel comfortable enough to stretch out over top of your discarded dress, staring up at him over the swell of your breasts. "Don't you want to touch your perfect wife, Aemond?"

"Of course I do," he mutters. He moves aside only slightly, letting his fingers scrape over one of your hardened nipples. "I want to touch every part of you."

You arch into his touch, his fingertips hard and callused against your sensitive nipple. "Aemond.... Would I be a complete whore if I asked for your fingers back inside of me?"

"No," he mutters easily, a hand running its way down your body, the other holding himself above you. "No, you wouldn't. But I want you to ask for it, my love. I want you to tell me exactly what you want."

Your breathing quickening, the air in the room thick and heavy, you spread your legs around him, unabashed. "i want you to touch me. To touch my stomach, my hips and thighs .... my cunt. Please."

Aemond makes a ragged noise at your request, his body shuddering as you open yourself to him. He trails his hand lower, his fingers grazing over your stomach, trailing over your hips and thighs, before coming to rest between your legs.

He lets that hand rest on your for a moment, feeling your wetness, his violet eye dark and full of lust. "Is this what you wanted, darling?"

"Yes," comes your voice, wrecked, entire body feeling overheated and overwhelmed already. "Gods, Aemond, I.... I'm sorry I didn't ask for this earlier."

You run your hands up Aemond's toned arms, tugging on the short sleeves of his tunic. "M-May I take this off?"

Feeling you tug at his tunic, Aemond nods, loving that ragged and pleading tone in your voice. He can feel the heat radiating off your body, can see the raw, pleading look in your eyes, and he's never been more turned on in his life.

By way of a real answer, he reaches down and hooks his fingers under the hem of his shirt to rip it off over his head. He shakes his hair out majestically, making you giggle.

But after that giggle.... You can do nothing but lay beneath him and stare. His body is perfect, abs cut into his skin above the smooth, narrow line of his hips.

"Goodness ...." You whisper, fingertips prodding at his hardened stomach. "You're.... actually perfect."

"Perfect, really?" He replies, clearly perplexed. "I'd say I'm looking at perfection right now."

You whimper, Aemond's moist lips once more at your neck, his body pressed to yours. "How do you.... get your body to look that way? Maybe you can teach me that too, as well as how to ride a dragon."

Aemond laughs softly, his teeth scraping against you as he kisses down your neck. "It's actually quite simple," he murmurs, his hands roaming over your body, arms caging you in against the bed. "Just a lot of sword practice and fighting."

He pauses, his lips trailing teasingly over the line of your jaw. "I'm going to teach you to ride more than just a dragon, my love."

"I could sword fight." Your voice doesn't sound like it ever has before. "Easy. Train me."

You gasp at his words, nails now digging into his back. "And what else are you going to teach me to ride, husband?"

Aemond lets out a low chuckle at your response, his muscles coiling where your nails dig into his skin. He rolls his hips against you and makes you gasp.

"I can teach you how to ride me," he mutters, his voice a rough, ragged whisper. "Or maybe you'd like a ride on my face."

Your eyes go wide, and you press him away by the shoulder just so you can look him in the eye. "I.... I'm allowed to do that?"

You've never heard of this - using your mouth? Why have you never thought of it before?

"Of course you are," he murmurs, looking bemusedly down on you. "And I would be more than happy to let you."

His hot breath whispers over your skin as he leans to speak into your ear. "You've never heard of it before, have you?"

"I haven't." You tilt your head, fingers tender along Aemond's jaw. "How should I.... How do I do it?"

Aemond's eye closes at the feeling of your fingers, tender on his jaw, your touch ever gentle and caressing. He makes a very small noise and shudders over top of you. "It's easy, darling."

"I just lean back here...." With one swift movement, Aemond rolls and settles himself against the pillows. "You come up here...."

Gentle but insistent hands guide you, pulling you all the way up. "And swing a leg over me."

Still helped along by his strong hands, you throw one knee on the opposite side of Aemond's head, bracketing his ears with your thighs. "Like.... this?"

This position makes you feel as nervous as you have all night, even with the aid of the wine - Aemond can see all of you. Truly all of you, and you can't quite meet his eye because of it.

Aemond's hands tighten on your thighs, his breathing growing ragged. He can sense your nervousness, the way your muscles are tensing up, the way you're avoiding his eye.

He rubs his hands soothingly across your thighs, trying to relax you. "That's it, darling." His voice is soft, comforting. "You look gorgeous."

You bite your lip, carding one hand through Aemond's alluring silver hair. The other you place over his good eye, the hint of a smile on your face as you mutter, "Don't look...."

Aemond smirks, and yanks you suddenly, roughly forward by the backs of your thighs, so that your womanhood is directly above his smirking lips. "As you wish."

He places a single, open-mouthed kiss to your clit and the suction, the wetness, of it all is enough to make you squeal.

There's one poignant moment where Aemond's intensely hot, wet mouth rests over your womanhood. Then, with a jagged moan, he begins to lave over you, lips, tongue, and teeth working in tandem.

His callused palms cradle the backs of your thighs, keeping you in place as his tongue works you over. And when that same tongue points itself deep inside of your core, you can no longer keep your hand over his eye, lest you want to smash your husband's head painfully into the sheets.

Instead, that hand flies to the headboard, holding on for dear life. "Gods, Aemond! I.... I've never felt anything like this, what.... what in the seven hells...."

Aemond redoubles his grip on your thighs, keeping you in place as he works you with his tongue, his mouth and teeth and lips bringing you to new heights of pleasure. He moans roughly, and the sound reverberates through you, making your mouth fall open.

"Just... relax, my love," he mutters against your folds, "I did say I would worship you, did I not?"

You nod, still petting a hand gently through Aemond's hair, coiling your fingers around the strands, feeling how soft it is. Your eyes, however, are trained on the gilded ceiling when you answer.

"Y-You did, but.... this.... I didn't even know this was a thing people did. Is this.... common?"

"No, sweet one," he mutters, his voice thick with desire and - somewhere - a hint of disdain, "it isn't common. Most men see their wives as something to be claimed, conquered. And I...."

"You see them as something to be worshipped," you answer, remembering his words from earlier.

Aemond lets out a low chuckle against you as you knot your fingers in his hair, his tongue continuing to lathe across you. He lifts his head for a moment, his lips and chin glistening, a smirk on his face. "Look at me."

You do, and are rewarded with his fingers climbing the insides of your thighs, splaying themselves over you. "You are the most exquisite creature I've ever laid eyes on."

The sight of his face, so slick with you, his eye dark, his sapphire glinting, his fingers roaming over your thighs, it all makes you shiver, your breathing coming in short, ragged gasps.

"And you," he continues, voice muffled against your folds, "you taste divine."

And without another word, he dives back in, his tongue delving into you once more, his hands gripping your thighs, bringing you lower, closer to him.

All of this - Aemond telling you how beautiful you are, his talented mouth on you, the haze of the wine moving through you - has you tumbling toward the edge quicker than you've ever done so by yourself.

"Aemond.... close!" You give a hard tug to Aemond's hair, warning him.

He closes his eyes as he focuses on nothing more than bringing you further to the edge, the heat of your body and the taste of you driving him wild, pushing him to give you more, more, more.

"Just.... let go," he mutters against you. "I want you to let go for me, my sweet."

You're trembling now, hips riding down against his face of their own accord. "Oh, gods...." You've never done this in front of anyone before. What will Aemond think of the way you climax? Will it be embarrassing? "Aemond...."

There's no longer any time to think it over, though, as one last swipe of his tongue sends you spiraling with a loud cry.

Aemond's heart is pounding hard, watching you cum, his eye wide and alight with desire as he watches your body shudder and shake above him, your cry of pleasure filling the room and, undoubtedly, the hallways around it.

He helps you ride out the wave of pleasure, his tongue slowly bringing you back down, peppering your thighs and hip bones with hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, Aemond coaxes you through your first climax with him and then maneuvers you down to lay beside him. You feel so boneless, you sure you aren't much help in this endeavor.

"That was...." You don't even have the words to describe what just happened to you.

Aemond watches you closely as you lay beside him, breasts rising and falling heavily, your skin flushed and marked all over with his mouth, one hand trailing lightly over your stomach. The sight of you, well-loved and satisfied, makes his chest burn with desire.

He leans in close to you, curling his body around yours like a protective shield. His mouth trailing over your neck, his voice a quiet whisper. "That was beautiful. And we're only getting started."

You gaze at him out of half-lidded eyes, your body already feeling drained from just one round. "What...." You stifle a yawn behind your hand, trying to hide it. "What's next?"

Aemond laughs at the sight of you yawning, both hands now brushing over your body, his touch gentle. He can see the exhaustion in your eyes, hear the tiredness in your voice.

He leans down and presses a loving kiss to your forehead. "I don't think you're quite ready for more yet, my love. You look like you're barely awake."

Through your tiredness, you whine, "But you promised to show me. What it's like...." You're pressing sleepy kisses to Aemond's jaw, lips sweeping down over his neck.

Aemond's lashes flutter at your tiny kisses, his arms curling strong and protective around you. He makes an odd noise, and you realize you may have had an orgasm, but he never did.

"I can take care of it for you." Searching down below, hands clumsy and heavy with sleep, you feel Aemond grab for your wrist.

"And you will," he mutters, admonishing. "But tonight it's getting late, and you're tired. We have our whole lives together, we need not rush this."

Another yawn overtakes you, and you snuggle down into his warmth. "Tomorrow, then?" You mumble, arms slung lazily around him. "And dragon riding tomorrow, too...."

Aemond chuckles again at your insistence, hands gently rubbing themselves over your body, comforting you. He shifts back on the bed, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you, holding you as close as possible.

"Of course, my love," he murmurs, his voice a gentle, soothing rumble in your ear. "Tomorrow. And dragon riding, too. But for now, you need to sleep."

Aemond runs the very tips of his fingers up and down your back, just along your spine.

"I really am sorry, Aemond...." You're already half asleep, struggling to stay awake, to get the words out. "D'you really forgive me?"

Aemond sighs.

"Of course I forgive you," he whispers, breath tickling your ear. "It's all in the past now, my love. The only thing that matters is you and me, right here, right now. And dragon riding tomorrow, I promise...."

[mrsbarnesblog]

i am not the only one who saw that, right?

masterlist

summary: your friends find out that you secretly dating their enemy, but their opinion might completely change when they see Rafe from another point of view

words count: 2.2k

warnings: secret relationship, pogue!reader, attempted assault, mention of blood, soft and protective Rafe

a/n: inbox is open for requests💘

“You cannot be dating Rafe fucking Cameron, Y/N!” John B exclaimed, burying his hands in his hair and walking all around the place. 

“No, seriously, this is not a good idea.” Sarah looked at you, giving out a nervous laugh. 

You were currently surrounded by your friends, who were all practically yelling at you after they accidentally saw a message from Rafe on your phone. You were one of the pogues; you never hanged out around the kooks, but somehow, when you were visiting Sarah a few months ago, you got into a random conversation with Rafe, and since that moment, the connection between you two has only gotten stronger. 

It was an instant click and as much as you both tried to deny the spark, it was there. As you started going out, secretly from everyone, of course, you decided to keep it private until the right time. 

“Alright, guys, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew that this would be your reaction. It just happened, okay?” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already feeling a headache from the tense situation. All of your friends were standing on the opposite side of you and it felt like they were just attacking you. 

“What were you thinking? You know that he hates people like us, like you. We are pogues, Y/N. How the hell did that even happen?” Kiara was standing with her hands on her hips, as her piercing eyes were studying you. You felt awful looking at Pope, who was the one who always supported you, but he just shook his head and stepped away. 

“I don’t know. It just happened. We talked once when Sarah left, then I accidentally met him a few times in town, and then he texted me. He’s not bad when you know him closer.” You sighed. “Look, I know Rafe was a lot of trouble for us. He did bad things; I know that. But he’s not like that; he’s sweet and caring, and he has never shown any sign of being disrespectful towards me. I just can’t deny my feelings for him.”

“Honey, Rafe is not a good person. He doesn’t care about anything or anyone; he’s evil, selfish and manipulative.” Sarah stepped closer to you, touching your hand. “He’ll play with you, hurt your feelings and just throw you away.”

“And he probably just wants to get into your pants.” JJ grumbled, also taking a defensive position. 

“I haven't even slept with him yet, JJ!” You desperately snapped at him. It felt ridiculous, like all of them turned against you at the same time. Sure, Rafe wasn’t the sweetest person to them before, but they didn’t even give you a chance to say something in your defense. “And you’re wrong too, Sarah. All of Rafe’s actions were just to get people’s attention and appreciation. All it took for me to get on his soft side was to just listen to him and give him some affection. Other people didn’t care enough, including you and your father. He needs someone who he can trust and open up to because he’s hurt.” 

“No, Y/N. If you think that he loves you, then he just got into your head. My brother doesn’t love anyone. It will end badly; I just know that.” 

Tears gathered in your eyes, and a lump in your throat made it difficult to say anything back, so you just stupidly stayed there. You had no strength to fight with all five of them at the same time. You turned around, silently getting back in the car, even though your head was filled with doubt and dark thoughts because of their words. 

For the next few days, it was tough for all of you. You and the rest of the group were still close, and even though they were completely against your relationship, you still met and hung out. The pit in your heart was still there, no matter how hard you tried to act nonchalant and not let their words get into your head. 

Rafe noticed the change in your behavior—that you were upset with something—but he didn’t put any pressure on you and allowed you to decide for yourself when you wanted to open up. 

Pogues decided to go to some party on the cut near the beach and as much as you tried to refuse, Sarah and Kiara managed to drag you there. You all rarely went to such places, preferring to hang out in your little circle, but apparently everyone wanted to clear their heads and saw it as the best opportunity. 

It was pretty fun with a bunch of people you did not know, some music, and drinks, and you mostly hung out with your friends. Though quickly it got overwhelming and made you want to go home or at least go outside of the house to get some fresh air. As you left your friends and wanted out from the backyard to a part of the beach, you didn’t notice the guy who had been eyeing you the whole evening. 

He came out of nowhere from your back, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You yelled at the sudden and unwanted touch, and your heart seemed to drop into your stomach when you realised that it wasn’t just a joke from JJ, who liked to scare you. You started wiggling in his hands to get free, but he was fighting you back, dragging you up when you fell to your knees on the ground. 

It was such a mess trying to scratch and punch him that you almost did not notice his hand coming into contact with your face several times. You screamed again, this time loud enough, until you saw JJ running towards you. The guy behind you pushed you away as soon as he saw someone, and you fell to the ground with a loud huff. 

“That fucking bastard!” JJ was right near you, helping you to get up as tears streamed down your face. He tried to comfort you, checking your body for any injuries, but you pushed his hands away, wrapping your own around yourself in a defensive way.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” You heard Kiara, along with your other friends, calling your name. “What the hell happened?”

“H-he attacked me.” You sniffed, trying to catch your breath and, with shaking hands, reaching to the pocket of your jeans shorts to get out your phone. All of them looked at each other, questioning your actions, until you pressed someone’s contact button and put the phone to your ear. “Can y-you pick me up, p-please?” You sniffed again, now trembling from the adrenaline. 

“Baby? Are you crying? Where are you?” You heard your boyfriend’s concerned voice through the phone, feeling how JJ tensed beside you. 

“I’m on the cut. Near the beach. There’s a party and... Please, Rafe.” 

“I’m coming, angel. Just wait for me, ‘kay?” You heard the sound of the car engine at the other end of the line. Rafe didn’t ask any more questions, and as soon as you mumbled quiet 'mhm’ he ended the call. 

You all heard him before you saw him. The sound of the tires drifting through the sandy street was loud, drawing attention to the expensive car that was unusual to see at this part of the island. 

Rafe didn’t bother to properly park, turn off the engine or even close the door when he saw you sitting on some old chaise lounge, with his sister and Kie trying to talk to you and your other friends arguing nearby. 

The girls stepped away from you as soon as they saw Rafe running towards you with a furious expression on his face and ready to deal with anyone who made you cry. It looked like he didn’t even care about the pogues, with whom he always had to get into arguments; he was fully focused on your shivering form.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He squatted down in front of you, and you started sobbing again. Your hands immediately found their place around his neck, and, before he could even properly look at your face, you pulled him closer to get some sense of comfort from his warmth and smell. Rafe hugged you back, soothingly rubbing your back. His eyes shot towards your friends, who were watching in awe at the interaction. “Which one of you did that?”

“It’s not us, you idiot. Some guy jumped her when she walked outside.” Sarah said, rolling her eyes at her brother. “JJ heard screaming, and when we walked outside, he ran away.” Rafe pulled away, finally taking in your appearance.

Your knees were covered in dried blood mixed with the sand. He gently took your hands to see the palms scratched from you trying to catch yourself before hitting the ground. Rafe’s eyes were burning with fury, showing his side that he rarely revealed in front of you. His hand reached to move your hair from your face, noticing a red, now already turning purplish, bruise covering the side of your cheek.

“Holy shit, sweetheart.” He softly brushed his fingertips along your cheek and you leaned into the touch, closing your eyes. Your bottom lip started quivering and you bit inside your cheek to calm yourself down. “Sh-h im here, okay? You’re safe. Did you see him? What did he look like? Just tell me and I’ll deal with it.” He almost begged, but you only shook your head. JJ suddenly stepped closer, slightly hesitating to actually normally communicate with his longtime enemy,  but he thought that it was the least that he could do for you.

As much as he hated The Kooks King, JJ knew that Rafe was the best option to find the guy who hurt you. 

“Tall, with dark and curly hair. Never seen him before, probably someone new on the island, but I’ll recognize him.” They looked at each other for a moment, and Rafe just simply nodded, turning his attention back to you. 

“I’ll find him, ‘kay? I promise I will.” He gently took both of your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “We should go now. I need to take care of your knees and that bruise, baby. You don’t mind going to Tanneyhill, yeah?”

“Thank you, Rafe.” You whispered, slightly bending forward to ask for a kiss. Rafe smiled at you, his thumbs gently swiped the leftovers of the tears under your eyes, and then he kissed you on your forehead, nose, and gently pecked your lips. 

Your heart flattered at his soft touches and for a second, it felt like you two were in your own little bubble. Rafe's eyes shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and the way he looked at you, soft and caring, made you want to kiss him again and again. You suddenly snapped out of the trance, looking back at your friends, who all had different levels of shock and uncertainty written on their faces. 

“C’mon, pretty girl.” Rafe stood up, lifting you in bridal style without an effort, carefully not to hurt your bleeding knees. He almost walked away, but then sighed, turning back to look at his sister. “You coming home with us or somethin’?”

“Um, no, I’ll be with John B. It seems like I would be third wheeling with you anyway.” She shrugged, not being able to keep a smile when you two met with your eyes. 

Rafe then looked at JJ, thinking his words over. “I appreciate it, Maybank.” 

They exchanged a tight nod, both slightly shocked that for the first time ever, they communicated without biting each other's heads off. You leaned closer to Rafe, comfortably nestling in his protective hands, and looked at your friends, who were still too shocked to say anything. 

“I’ll see you guys later, okay? 

Everyone agreed, saying goodbye to you and asking you to text them when you get there safely. They saw how Rafe made sure to slowly put you into the passenger seat, then circled the car and drove away. An awkward silence fell around them, everyone at a loss for words. 

“Okay, so I am not the only one who saw that, right?” Pope spoke first, looking around the place as if he were trying to find something. “Rafe freaking Cameron just was acting cute and didn’t threaten to do something to us?” His own body physically shrugged at the word ‘cute’.

“I don’t know, dude. We all just probably drank something and it’s messing with our heads.” 

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

[blkkizzat]

YAKUZA!TOJI X MILF!READER —aka toji on some joe goldberg bullshit

⟢ rating: mdni.18+ each episode will have its own ratings but general warnings— lactation kink, face riding, drugs (weed, alcohol, cigs), infidelity, yuji is sukuna x reader child, size-kink, milf kink, breeding kink, voyeurism, masturbation, dubcon/noncon, squirting, pussy talk, biting, creampies, obsessive tendencies, heavy manipulation, yandere, Toji in daddy and dad mode. this will be fem black reader coded as reader is foreigner and uses some aave but no other descriptors. ⟢ total run time: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 of ? ⟢ opening theme: Rich Baby Daddy - Drake

⟢ subscriber access: tag request in comments, previous tag list from the teasers are already accounted for. ⟢ director's note: this fic is to celebrate my year of having this account! literally this is the first fic i thought of and wanted to write and have been working on it since nov'23. so full circle moment fr! i hope you enjoy it. ⟢ executive producers: special thanks to @littlemochabunni, @ryomens-vixen, @yung-notorious and @buttercupblu143 for helping me beta this and bounce off ideas and listen to me be crazy for the past 9-10 months about this fic 🥹.

꒰ disclaimer: this is a plot-driven eventual smut fic and is told mostly in Toji POV through flashbacks until the end of episode 3. so if you stick with me i promise you a freak nasty pay off in episode 4 💕🤭. the build up makes it 100x better, trust~ ꒱

🎬 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓—

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟏: ❝ I STILL GOT SOME LOVE DEEP INSIDE OF ME, PLEASE DRAG IT OUT OF ME ❞

⟢ Reflecting on the last 3 months of meeting you during a time of organizational unrest, how did casual desire turn into a sinister obsession for a deadly yakuza assassin like Toji Fushiguro? It's your fault though, as a new resident of the yakuza luxury high-rise, The Nursery—shoulda known better than to have smiled that brightly at a single-dad widower, mamas. episode run time: 𝟒.𝟕𝐤

🎞 ️𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟐: ❝ POPPIN' MY SHIT COME WITH CONSEQUENCES, POST NUT CLARITY I CAME TO MY SENSES ❞

⟢ With tensions in the organization at an all-time high and a traitor still on the loose, everyone is on edge. Fortunately, Toji has been watching over you for weeks, especially since Sukuna has been even less attentive. But when Toji notices you making a new friend—a potential lifeline apart from him—can he keep his jealousy in check? Just how far will Toji go to have you all to himself? episode run time: 𝟖.𝟕𝐤

🎞 ️𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟑: ❝ WE FROM TWO DIFFERENT WORLDS BUT IT'S A MATCH TO ME ❞

⟢ Forced to make difficult choices this past week, it's becoming increasingly clear Sukuna's loyalties lie more with the organization than you. But of course, as chance would have it, Toji is there to console you when you have no one. Who needs Sukuna, friends, or anyone else when you have Toji? Toji can see the cracks forming in your resolve—but when he pushes, will you still be able to resist his charms? Or will you crumble in his hands? episode run time: ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

🎞️ 𝐒𝟏 𝐄𝟒: ❝ JUST SAY GOODBYE TO HIM, THEN TAKE THE RIDE TO ME, RIDE TO ME ❞

⟢ Circumstances align and you're practically served on a platter to Toji, he takes this as the prime opportunity to finally claim you as his. Toji deserves you. You know this though, so he won't have to do a thing—you'll come to him all on your own like a good sexy lil' milf won't you, mamas? Nevermind about your world falling apart around you—Toji has already made all of the arrangements to see that you and Yuji are taken care of. episode run time: ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

🎬 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓—

🎞️ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝟎 𝐄𝟏: ❝ WANNA STICK AROUND FOR THE RIDE? BABY HOLD ON TIGHT ❞ AKA "DON'T DROP THE PANCAKES"

Prequel/Standalone. Yakuza!Sukuna x Exchange Student!Reader. ⟢ Moving to a foreign country for school ain't all sunshine and rainbows—especially when your student status prevents you from acquiring legitimate employment. Good thing a friend of a friend has a connect for under-the-table work. Although, being a topless maid for a ruthless yakuza leader wasn't on your bingo card for your new life abroad—especially when you end up pregnant. episode run time: ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.

[ghostedeabha]

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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