#if this is what would add the other scars on him.. or would it heal or smth

[beaulesbian]

“It’s not safe. You need to run! You’re in danger!”

[aemondsbabe]

Care & Keeping

summary: after aegon suffers injuries at rook's rest, you and aemond nurse him back to health

pairing: aemond targaryen x sister!reader x aegon targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, canon typical incest, mentioned canon injuries, no gore, threeway relationship, threesome, teasing, orgasm delay, unprotected sex, titty sucking, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, dirty talk, aegond fr like they kiss and stuff, playful sibling bickering but they fuck about it, aemond is a tit, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.3k

a/n: I DID IT! i posted a fic again! happy to be back!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @tragicsiblings

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“Such a spoiled thing…,” Aemond mutters while his fingers work through Aegon’s silky hair, the strands freshly washed during his bath earlier in the day – something you and Aemond had assisted with as well, much to the displeasure of Maester Orwyle and the servants. A part of you understood the maester’s concerns, after all a slip or fall would be devastating for your brother this far along in his healing, yet… 

Well, he listened to you and Aemond. He would sit in the bath without complaint for the two of you, would let you wash over his delicate skin and comb through his hair with little more than a scoff or eye roll. Not so for the others, to whom he grumbled and carried on, insisting he need not be babied. 

“Hush, he deserves to be taken care of,” you chide your little brother playfully, chuckling as you lie against Aegon’s chest, savoring the sound of his heart beating steadily in your ear, “He’s lived through dragon fire, after all… That deserves a reward, no?”

“Listen to our sister, Aem,” your older brother chuckles, petting his hands over you in much the same way yours move over his waist and stomach – careful of the still-healing scars there, “What is it our grandsire says? Wisdom is from the children, some drivel like that?” 

“Wisdom oft comes from the mouths of babes, my love,” you correct him with a snigger, smirking when you peer up at him. 

“That’s the one!”

“I’m younger than her, you dolt,” Aemond sighs, a bite to his words even as he teases, though Aegon pays it no mind – too busy spread between you and your brother like a lazy, happy house cat. 

“Mm, then you should be smarter, no?”

“I…,” Aemond sighs before simply shaking his head with a soft sigh and teasing grumble, combing his fingers through his long hair in mock frustration. 

This is how the three of you have spent as much time as you could since that fateful day at Rook’s Rest, when Aegon and Aemond both nearly lost their lives plummeting to the battlefield in a fiery tangle. Aemond had, by the grace of the Gods, escaped without too many injuries. However, your eldest brother had not been so lucky and had been caught in the fires of Meleys, leaving him with life threatening burns and broken limbs that had thankfully healed almost miraculously well over the last few weeks. 

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you snuggle against Aegon, saying yet another quick prayer to the Seven as thanks for keeping him safe and, relatively, in one piece. Unfortunately, Aemond had been made to step in and act as regent, which meant that the three of you couldn’t spend all your time together, much to your displeasure. 

That is what had kept you all apart for most of the day – official duties that had carried on much too long, especially for your younger brother. By the time he had finished with Small Council business, it was well past supper and you and Aegon had already been tucked in bed together, enjoying the cool breeze blowing in from Blackwater Bay. As nonchalant as Aemond acts about the whole affair, his true feelings are betrayed time and time again when he stumbles when he all but rips his tunic and boots off, nearly in a frenzy, eager to join the two of you in bed. 

“How does the Council fare, little brother? Have they fallen to pieces in my absence?”

“Mm,” Aemond hums, the corners of his lips just barely lifting into a smirk while he rubs over Aegon’s sore shoulders, making the elder sigh in contentment, “They’re being much too soft on that traitorous bitch queen for my liking… forcing us sit up here like a herd of lambs for slaughter.”

Aegon lets out a soft giggle, the sound of it reverberating in your ear while he tilts his head back to look up at his brother, “And what would you do, hm? Take Vhagar and sack Dragonstone singlehandedly?”

“She could do it,” the prince regent muses, leaning down and pressing soft kisses against your older brother’s head, his lilac eye sparkling at the thought of turning that blasted place into no more than a fiery heap of rubble. His lips linger against Aegon’s pale hair, muffling the sound of his soft chuckle, “Why not turn all of those spoiled bastards into smoldering piles of ash and be done with it?”

“You, dearest brother, are beginning to sound very much like our uncle,” you tease, peering up at Aemond with a smirk, “All violence and warfare.”

A soft laugh is pulled from your lips as your brother’s angular face twists into a disgusted scowl, “You think so lowly of me as to compare me to him, sweet sister?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it,” you murmur knowingly, sharing a playful glance with Aegon, much to Aemond’s disapproval. 

“You both know very well I hate that creepy old –”

“Then why is your cock hard against my back, brother?” Aegon quickly interjects, descending into raucous giggles. The sound of his laughter quickly gets to you and your lips crack into a wide smile before you can hide it, a snort of laughter following soon after. 

Above you, Aemond sputters for a few seconds before finally letting out a pained groan, though his lips are turned up into a subtle smile. 

“You want to fuck our uncle,” Aegon giggles, the near giddy sound of his laughter reverberating in your ear. 

Your eldest brother’s laughter is cut short as Aemond behind him begins peppering kisses over his neck, sweeping his hair out of the way as the elder lets out a quiet gasp, the planes of his stomach tensing beneath your cheek. 

“And what if it’s you I wish to fuck, Your Grace?” The name makes Aegon shudder while goosebumps bloom over his pale skin as he lets out a thick sigh, the sheets at his waist beginning to tent. 

Aemond’s words cause heat to bloom between your own thighs and you smile up at him as he shifts behind your older brother, no doubt pressing his clothed length against his back, letting him feel it. 

“Awful tease,” Aegon whines, the petulance in his voice making you chuckle. It’s then that he directs his darkening violet gaze to you, quirking a brow, “Don’t you act all innocent, as if you haven’t been torturing me for weeks, little minx.”

A smirk blooms on your lips as his largely uninjured arm raises to encircle your waist, holding you more tightly against him while you press a soft trail of kisses over his pale skin. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” the words leave your mouth in a soft hum, warm against the patch of blond hair on his chest. A lie, of course. Maester Orwyle had taken great pains over the past few weeks to make it absolutely crystal clear that Aegon was in no state to be played with, that all of his body needed rest and healing. 

The old man had said it in the hopes of you and Aemond keeping Aegon away from the Street of Silk, of course. There was no doubt in your mind that your older brother could talk any of the guards or servants into smuggling him into the city. Yet, little did they know he hadn’t been whoring in months, not since the three of you had finally given into your desires. 

It had been well into the night when Aemond had stumbled into your chambers, dripping with rainwater and heaving soft sobs. You’d held him closely and listened as he had explained the awful mess that had happened with Rhaenyra’s youngest bastard, his voice trembling so hard you’d had to strain to understand at parts. 

You’d ushered him into older brother’s chambers quickly afterwards, not knowing what else to do and naively praying he might be able to help – to do something, anything, as king. Being Aegon, of course, the event had devolved into drinking – just to soothe Aemond’s nerves, he had said. 

The three of you woke together in the morning, naked and tangled up in His Grace’s soft sheets. 

With the promise of war looming heavily on the horizon, you had scarcely separated from them since then. There was a possibility of losing them both and you wanted to savor them for as long as you could, for whatever time was left. 

“Ah, you don’t, do you?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the visions swirling in your head, pulling you back to the present. His hand skims down over your back and hip until he can cup the curve of your ass, drawing a breathy laugh from you, “So you’ve just been wearing these gauzy, insufferable excuses for nightgowns for no good reason, then?”

“Perhaps I wear them to catch the eye of the guards as I make my way here?” Your eyes gleam with mischief when you peer up at him, knowing exactly how territorial he can be. 

His hips rut up against the sheets, cock straining beneath the white linen of them and already leaving wet patches on the fabric while a deep groan rumbles from his chest. Behind him, Aemond chuckles while he continues to press kisses over Aegon’s pale skin, marking up each side of his neck. 

“Teasing cunts, the both of you.”

“Tsk, there’s no need for that, you ungrateful cretin,” your little brother snaps, although there’s no real meanness in his tone – merely a strange, brotherly teasing that you fear you’ll never truly understand, “To think, we’ve been kind enough to take care of you all this time and this is how you behave.”

“Aemond’s right, my love,” your voice comes out as a soft coo, even as you peer at your eldest brother with a playful smirk, “We’ve been so kind to you… How many times do you think we swallowed your seed before you were well enough to fuck again?”

“W-Well, I–” Aegon stammers, flushing so hotly that even the pale column of his neck turns a slight pink shade. 

“Mm, all so mummy wouldn’t see how you’d stain the sheets otherwise, isn’t that right, dearest sister?”

Your lips curl into an almost vicious smile at Aemond’s jab, relishing the way Aegon’s dark eyes widen at the mere mention of your mother. Poor thing, you remember how embarrassed he’d been the first time he’d been desperate enough to rut against the bed sheets until they were dirtied with his spend, left to his own devices late at night after you and Aemond had retired to your own chambers. 

He’d sobbed against your chest that evening while he recounted the Maester mentioning it in the morning, pleased that all the king’s precious parts were still in working order, yet that did little to numb the sting of your mother’s stare – evidently disappointed that he’d debase himself in such a manner. 

“Quite right, little brother,” you all but purr, rising to your knees before carefully maneuvering yourself over one of Aegon’s thick thighs, mindful still of any tender spots, “Isn’t there anything you’d like to say to us, Aeg?”

“I… T-Thank you,” he finally manages to huff out, violet eyes staring hungrily at where your warm heat presses against him – achingly hot through the thin fabric of the sheets. 

“Good boy, Your Grace,” Aemond whispers against the shell of your brother’s ear, his gaze just as hungry as Aegon’s as they both look over you – the lacy, satin material of your nightgown doing precious little to disguise anything below it. 

“He can be sweet when he wants to be,” you murmur, smiling at the way your eldest brother’s head tips back against Aemond’s pale chest when you lightly scratch your nails over his tummy, tracing a path down beneath the sheets. An amused little giggle spills from your lips when his hips rut against your hand the second you gently grab at his length, giving it a light squeeze, “Can’t you, lovely boy?”

Grunting, Aegon merely nods while soft whimpers spill from his lips at the feel of your hand on him, of Aemond’s lips against his neck. 

“Please, fuck,” he groans, swallowing thickly and licking at his lips while he tries to buck up into your hand – his movements jerky and uncoordinated from being off of his feet for so long, “Seven Hells…”

Giggling at his grumbling, you tilt your head to the side as you look over him. Even injured and half-healed, he’s beautiful. In all the places where Aemond is lean and toned, Aegon is thicker, more stocky and soft; the juxtaposition between the two of them has always made your heart flutter.

“Tell us what you want.” 

Aegon whines at Aemond’s firm command, but obeys nonetheless. The way his dark gaze immediately finds your own makes your lips curl into a proud smirk.

“Want you, please…,” he finally breathes and disentangles his hands from where they’d been clawing at the sheets to instead run them over your thighs, one moving more easily than the other – his injured arm still trembles. 

“Mm, you’ll need to be more specific,” You can resist teasing, he just begs so prettily. 

“Gods, your cunt,” the way he impatiently growls the words makes you snigger, “Insolent little wit– Agh!” 

“You’ll be nice to our sister,” Aemond hisses, smirking as he gives a harsh pinch to Aegon’s nipples, “Or you can lie here and watch me enjoy her instead.”

A scowl blooms on your eldest brother’s face at the threat and he gives an almighty huff before thankfully settling; your little brother may have no qualms about denying him, but you prefer to indulge him, truly. Smiling wickedly, you fix Aegon with an almost innocent expression – brows drawn up just slightly, eyes widened… before sliding your gaze from his violet eyes and up to Aemond’s single lilac one. 

“You know, baby brother,” you start, arching your back just enough to press your breasts out enticingly, putting on a show for them both, “If I’m to take His Majesty’s cock, I’ll need some help readying myself…”

Aemond’s snicker is such a sharp contrast to Aegon’s broken groan. 

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Your younger brother rasps into your eldest’s ear, petting through his hair with a gentleness that one wouldn’t expect from such calloused hands, “Hm? To watch while I prepare our lovely girl for your lovely cock, dear brother?”

Aegon nearly wheezes at that, as if the mere thought of it has knocked all the wind from his lungs. 

“Fuck, please,” he whines, nuzzling against Aemond’s touch like a cat, “Want it, please.”

“Anything to get my cock in her faster,” is the unspoken truth there, one he’d made the mistake of voicing before. Aemond had made sure that was a long night. 

“Shh, sh, sh,” he soothes him now, gently petting over his chest while he kisses over the side of his face, “You’ll get to watch.”

Aegon lets out slightly pained grunts as Aemond works his way out from behind him to stand at the edge of the bed, taking the time to make sure he’s propped comfortably against the pillows before his touch finally leaves him. With a dark chuckle, your little brother swiftly climbs back up on the bed, nude save for the soft linen trousers hanging low on his hips. 

“Now, I believe I have some business to attend to, don’t I, love?” He whispers against the shell of your ear while he takes his place behind you – kneeling and holding you against his chest. As always, a barely there sigh leaves his lips at the way the soft satin of your nightgown feels against his skin; it’s a sensation he’s grown to crave ever since you began ordering those special silks – the ones imported from Lys, the same ones Alicent insists on using for her sleepwear as well. 

He’s never told a soul, but the feeling brings him comfort – brings back memories of being held and comforted, of before his mother became hardened to the world. 

You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips when he bites at your neck and roughly tilts your head to the side, long fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of your neck, “Please, little brother.”

“You know I’d never deny you, sweetling,” his breath is warm against the crook of your neck while his hands caress over your body, drawing soft whimpers and groans from the man lying on the bed below you. Aemond takes his time, never one to rush, and lets his touch linger over every part of you.

Starting at your shoulders, he runs his hands over your arms before skirting them back up and over your sides, making your nightgown ride further and further up your hips as he does. Just as he cups your breasts, you lean down against Aegon’s chest to let him feel the way Aemond’s long fingers work against you, mindful not to rest against him too firmly.

The heat from being trapped between their two bodies is nearly stifling but you’d never dare pull away. 

“Gods, Aem,” you whine when he plucks at your nipples, rolling them between his long fingers while you pant against Aegon’s pale throat. Your older brother’s good arm comes up to circle possessively around your waist, keeping you pressed against him, long past caring if it sparks soreness within him. 

“You feel so good,” Aegon whimpers against your hair, his voice little more than a needy growl while he ruts his hips up against your stomach. Chuckling, you nip over his collarbones just enough to leave small marks behind, painting him as yours. 

“If I feel good now, just think of how good I’ll feel around you,” you murmur against his chest, relishing the way he keens – the way his cock twitches against you, doubtlessly leaking steadily against the thin bed sheet separating the two of you.

“Fucking dripping,” Aemond mutters behind you, letting out a satisfied chuckle against your spine while his deft fingers begin circling over your sensitive pearl, “Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

“Always for the two of you,” your voice shakes as you reply, words getting caught in your throat with each movement of your brother’s long fingers against your center.

“Did you hear that, brother?” Aemond says smugly, his low voice dripping with satisfaction, “Seems our dear sister is quite the little whore for us.”

“Mhm, mhm,” your eldest brother strenuously agrees, jerkily nodding his head while you let him hump against you, savoring the way the hard line of his cock presses against your belly, “O-Our whore, yes.”

“You’d better not let him spend,” Aemond growls, his good eye narrowing when he sees what you’re allowing to happen. He tugs at your hair hard enough to have you hissing and smirks at the sound.

“I won’t, I won’t,” you huff, rolling your eyes only to yelp when his large hand suddenly comes down on your ass. You can’t help the way you press back into it, the harsh sting settling over your skin like a warm blanket, “Gods…”

“Play nice,” he rasps, grinning at the way you cry out when he abruptly pushes two fingers inside your already-fluttering walls, “Or Aegon won’t be the only one left wanting.” 

“Mhm, yes, little brother,” you rush to say, readily agreeing – knowing all too well from experience that if Aemond meant to deny you, that there would be no talking him out of it. Lucky for him, the prospect of that was enough to placate you. Not that you even have the lung capacity to sass him, not with the way his long fingers move within you. 

Aegon whimpers in time with you each time the pads of your brother’s fingers brush against that sensitive spot within you, as if he can feel the pressure within you too. He lets you hold onto him and hardly even protests when Aemond angles your hips in such a way that the planes of your stomach don’t even rub over his neglected cock, the absolute prick. 

“F-Fuck, oh, fuck,” the curses are all but knocked from you with ear harsh thrust of Aemond’s fingers, the chambers silent save for the steady crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wet squelching noises sounding from between your legs – which only serve to spur your little brother on further. 

“So tight, Seven Hells,” he mutters, leaning over you and trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses up the curve of your spine. You can feel his lips curve up into a cocky grin when he presses his thumb against your bud, drawing a loud, gasping cry from your lips. 

“Aem, Aemond, I–”

“Shh, shh,” he soothes, smiling at the way Aegon’s hands, both of them, even the shaky, still-healing one, thread into your hair and comb through it – a gesture that’s calmed you since the three of you were children, “Be good and take it.”

That’s a lot easier said than done, especially when the world seems to tilt on its axis when he manages to slip a third finger into your aching sex. The stretch of it only makes the fire threatening to consume you burn all the brighter and twin groans fill the room when your walls pulse greedily around him. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Aegon all but breathes, his voice raw and shaky and dripping with a soft kind of praise he only ever gives to you, “So good for us.”

“Mm, our big brother’s right, sweetling,” Aemond hums, rubbing his thumb in tighter and tighter circles over your pearl and focusing the attention of his fingers within you on that spot that he knows makes you see stars. The effect is instantaneous and after no more than a couple seconds, you’re all but sobbing as you go limp on top of Aegon, unable to so much as hold yourself up as pleasure courses through you. 

Your younger brother smirks, you can’t see it but you can feel it, and groans low in his throat when your walls clench so tightly around his fingers that he can hardly move them at all. The only sounds coming from you are near pitiful squeaks in time with the movements of his hand. 

“Gods, so close, aren’t you?” Aemond all but growls against the shell of your ear, just as Aegon pulls you forward into a searing kiss, “Show it to me.” 

Powerless to do anything else, you let out a choked whimper against Aegon’s lips – practically sobbing into his mouth while his tongue licks against your own. Your high crests and crashes into you like the waves at Storm’s End, almost violent and bloodthirsty in the way it sends your pulse racing, in the way it nearly engulfs you. 

All the while, your brothers hold you steady. Aegon keeps an arm slung around your back, anchoring you to him, while Aemond uses his free hand to hold you upright as he wrings every drop of pleasure he can conjure up from you – not daring to stop until your pleasured moans turn to tortured gasps.

Finally, Aemond pulls his fingers from you with a satisfied grunt, leaving you panting as you slip from atop Aegon, shifting to lie beside him instead, curled against his largely uninjured side. Your eyes have hardly fluttered open before Aemond’s moving, leaning over Aegon like a shadowcat, finally victorious in hunting down its prey. 

“Taste,” he whispers, bringing his fingers, still glistening with the evidence of your orgasm, to your eldest brother’s lips. As usual, Aegon wastes no time and eagerly parts his hips and lets Aemond press them to his tongue. Your breath catches in your throat when his violet eyes roll back at the taste of you on your brother’s skin, a hungry, needy whine sounds from this throat while he takes the time to suck them clean. 

Your younger brother’s eye sparkles as he watches, his cock tenting the dark fabric of his trousers and pressing against Aegon’s thigh. 

“Aeg, don’t be greedy,” you finally pipe up, the air back in your lungs and a playful smirk on your lips, “Share with our little brother; he deserves it, no?”

Two sets of eyes land upon you, guided by the suggestive tone of your voice. Poor Aegon looks wide eyed and dazed, already half out of his mind and you haven’t even started on him. Aemond, on the other hand, looks downright predatory – dangerous in the low light. 

With a breathy chuckle, he sets upon your eldest brother, capturing his lips in a heated, almost savage kiss. Aegon sobs into it, his hips lifting on their own accord beneath the sheets as Aemond nips at his lip and sucks at his tongue with a barely contained lust. The elder reaches up with his good hand and threads his fingers through the younger’s long, pearlescent hair just as a rough, sword-worn hand gets wrapped around his throat, holding him in place. 

The sight of their frenzied affection makes your thighs clench, your core throbbing once more, uncaring that you’d found release only moments ago. Unable to resist, you lean in until your lips brush over the soft, pale skin of Aegon’s chest. You pepper it with kisses, making him whine and whimper into Aemond’s mouth. Shifting the bed sheets out of the way, you can’t help but bite at your lower lip at the sight of his cock – angry and flushed and leaking copiously, leaving a pool of it on his tummy. 

“Mm, it’s cruel to let him suffer this way,” you say lowly, meeting Aemond’s eye when he finally pulls away from Aegon, lips curling into a smirk that matches your own, “I promised the poor thing my cunt, I think he’s earned it.” 

“Please, please, f-fucking, please,” your eldest brother whimpers pitifully, hips bucking while you run your hand over his thigh as he looks between you and Aemond imploringly, violet eyes glassy. 

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” you promise, pressing one last kiss against his chest before turning to Aemond, “Help me onto him.” 

You’re moving before your brother can protest, can think of some other reason to tease. Ever since Aegon was injured, you’ve needed Aemond’s help to stay balanced the scant few times you’ve taken him. So much of his upper half was injured that you’re hardly able to put weight on one side of his chest, even now, which makes staying upright without assistance hardly worth the possible risk. 

“Fine, fine, I suppose the little whelp’s earned a treat,” your brother sighs and slips off the bed, taking care to help you straddle Aegon’s hips once more while he stands at the bedside. You take a second to pull off your lacy nightgown, smirking at the groans of appreciation you get in return. 

“Gah–fuck!” Aegon grunts the second your slick center presses against his aching length and presses his lips tightly together as his eyes squeeze shut, his fingers white-knuckled while he claws at the sheets, “S-Sweetling, please, please, I n-need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” your voice is sweet when you reply, soft and breathy. Your touches are the same, knowing that’s what he needs now. Balancing with one hand securely on Aemond’s shoulder, you watch as he leans down just enough to grab at your brother’s length and notch it at your entrance. 

“O-Oh… fuck, f-fuck, Seven Hells,” the words sound as if they’re being punched from Aegon’s chest, like he can hardly get enough of a lungfull to speak while you slowly sink down onto him. 

While he pants below you, nearly thrashing, you aren’t doing much better. Throwing your head back, you let your eyes flutter shut as a series of breathy moans spill past your lips. Silently, you’re thankful Aemond took the time to prepare you – sometimes they both get so wound up, preparation goes out the window and while you have come to love the nearly-painful ache of taking them without it, it’s always so much better like this. 

“Gods!” You nearly screech when Aemond suddenly rubs at your pearl, making you jump slightly atop Aegon, who lets out an equally embarrassing noise at the way your walls suddenly contract around him.

Aemond, on the other hand, looks entirely too pleased with himself as he straightens again. He takes the time to brush a lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek in such a gentle way that you nearly ignore the mischievous glimmer in his eye, “Just getting you started, sweet sister. I expect a show.” 

Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the cadence of his low voice and you nearly draw blood when he tugs at the drawstring on his trousers and lowers them just enough to free his length, the sight of it pulling twin groans from you and your eldest brother. 

Spurred on by the sight of it, of Aemond pleasuring himself to the vision of you atop Aegon, you begin rocking your hips. A satisfied sigh is tugged pulled from your lips at the feel of his cock moving within you – perfectly contoured to nestle against every sensitive spot within you as the head kisses your most inner depths. 

“Fuck, Aegon,” you breathe, letting out little gasps every time your bud brushes against the patch of blond hairs at the base of his cock. Each movement of him inside you stokes at the fire within you that’s steadily roaring back to life, greedy even after your previous release. 

“Don’t stop, don’t… Please, s-sister, I need–”

“I know, my love, I know,” you soothe him in a gentle tone, your free hand brushing gently over his chest and shoulder, trailing lightly enough over the column of his neck that he shivers, “I won’t stop.” 

A shiver runs through you when he nods and stares up at you – gazes at you with those big, dark eyes like you’re some goddess, like you’re the Mother in flesh form, taking his cock again and again. As usual, his eyes are quickly drawn to your chest and you can’t help but chuckle at the hungry look painted so clearly on his pale features – pink lips parted as he pants and whimpers. 

“Here, precious brother,” you whisper, carefully leaning forward, just enough to allow your breasts to sway in front of his face, peaked nipples just barely brushing over his lips, “Suck, go on.” 

You need not encourage him further as he quickly leans up just the slightest bit, just enough to wrap his full lips around one of your sensitive buds and suckle as if his life depended on it. A low, carnal groan sounds from his throat and vibrates against your skin, the sound of it making the walls of your center squeeze at him greedily. The knot in your belly grows tighter and tighter and judging from the desperate, harsh cants of Aegon's hips, you know neither of you will be lasting much longer. 

For a long moment, the only sounds that can be heard in the quiet of your eldest brother’s chambers are harsh pants, the noise of skin on skin, and Aemond’s barely concealed growls. 

“Gods, I– Fuck,” he pants, one hand stroking slowly over his generous length, pausing every so often to collect the slick steadily leaking from its flushed head, all the while his eye dances over you and Aegon, never settling in one place very long, “Love watching the two of you, s-so pretty…”

The little hitch in his voice makes your heart clench and sends a pleasured shiver up your spine – unlike Aegon, it’s hard to reduce Aemond to a stuttering mess so each time his words get caught in his throat is like a small badge of honor for you. 

The slick noises of your brother’s hand moving over his cock soon draw Aegon’s attention and he pulls away from your breast with a shuddered gasp, his good hand white knuckled on your thigh. He looks up at you almost apologetically, a new hunger evident in his darkened gaze, before his eyes trail over to Aemond’s length. 

“C’mon, then,” your little brother grunts, his lips pulled into a dirty smirk as he edges closer to the bedside, angling himself better for Aegon, “Good boy, go on.”

Licking his lips, Aegon leans forward just enough to get at Aemond’s cock; you and Aemond each let out soft moans when his mouth sucks at the flushed head. Aegon’s hips buck up into yours at your brother’s taste on his tongue and you know he’s close, teetering on the edge judging by how he shivers beneath you.

“Mm– fuck, yes,” Aemond grunts, rocking his hips little by little into your eldest brother’s waiting mouth, the sound makes your core clench once more and you can’t take it any longer. His low, breathy chuckle hardly meets your ears when you hastily trail a hand down your own stomach and start rubbing between your thighs – your fingers moving in tight, practiced circles over your pearl.

The feeling of your walls pulsating around his length again and again has Aegon crying out, the sound muffled around Aemond’s cock. You can feel his muscles tense beneath you while you spear yourself onto his length over and over, each movement causing the fire within you to burn brighter, to rage hotter. 

You brace yourself for his release, clinging to Aemond’s shoulder with one hand while the other works furiously at your bud, and yet…

“You don’t finish until she does,” Aemond breathes, shoving his cock deep enough down Aegon’s throat that the only reply he can give is a garbled groan. His violet eyes are wide and glassy, silently pleading with Aemond even though he knows it’s useless. 

“I-I’m close, I– Gods,” you pant, thighs burning while you all but thrash on top of your older brother, angling yourself in just the right way – causing the tip of his cock to rub against the most sensitive spot within you. Your eyes roll back in your head and stars dance in your vision and the feel of a gentle hand at your breast nearly makes you jump. 

Even lost in his own pleasure, Aegon would never forget you. He moans helplessly around Aemond as he thumbs at your nipple, providing just enough sensation to send you tipping over the edge. 

“Ah! Gods– Gods, f-fuck!” You cry out, your thighs trembling on either side of your brother's hips as pleasure overtakes you once more. Your lips part in a silent moan while your core all but milks Aegon’s high from him as well, the feel of his hot spend within you only adding to your pleasure. 

“Mmph, mmph!” He whines around Aemond as you slowly come to a stop on top of him, overstimulation quickly getting to you both. 

Aemond gasps at the sight before him, seeing the two of you in the throes of pleasure only adding to his own.

“Gonna… o-oh, fuck–” He grunts and before you can register what’s happening, he’s got an arm wrapped around your neck and is hauling you toward him. Your lips connect with his at a nearly bruising intensity and you can hear Aegon moaning with satisfaction when your brother finishes on his tongue, coating it with his spend. 

Your lips move against his for a long moment while he trembles, hardly able to stay upright while he licks into your mouth – the kiss more teeth and tongues than anything else. Finally, he pulls away, nipping at your bottom lip as he does before he fixes you with a nearly arrogant smirk. 

“Let our girl have a taste, big brother,” he drawls, pushing you back toward Aegon with a mischievous smirk. 

“Mm, how generous of you,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes, shaking your head at Aemond before meeting Aegon in a heated kiss. Aemond’s familiar taste settles on your tongue while the man in question takes his place back behind Aegon, propping him on his chest and sighing at the familiar warm weight of his brother. 

When Aegon is pulled away from you a moment later, you use the opportunity to shift back to his side, knowing he must be sore from having you atop him, even if he dared not show it. You trail kisses over his neck while Aemond occupies his mouth, greedily licking his own spend from his brother’s tongue.

“You were so good for us,” Aemond praises him, his voice soft and gentle in a way he only ever uses here – in the calm, candlelit privacy with each of you like this, “Did everything I said, just perfect.”

“Mhm, our perfect brother,” you purr into Aegon’s ear, relishing the way he shudders. He’s quiet after he spends, the only time you won’t hear a sarcastic remark or a dirty joke. Instead, he’s… subdued, pliable in your arms – breathing easy while his eyes flutter closed, relishing the attention you give him.

You chuckle softly at the easy, satiated smile on his lips before your eyes meet Aemond’s over your older brother’s mess of tangled silver hair – something that’ll need to be sorted in the morning. 

“I love you,” you whisper against the side of Aegon’s head, pressing a soft kiss there, “Both of you.” 

“Sap,” Aegon quips, making you giggle.

“I hate you,” you murmur playfully, giving his good shoulder a soft shove.

“Not nearly as much as I detest you.” 

“Both of you are absolute ballaches,” Aemond finally sighs.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

[feyhunter78]

Think I'm Gonna Call it Off

Description: You have been Prince Aemond's secret for years now, but a certain visiting Stark opens your eyes to what could be.

Inspired by the line “think I’m gonna call it off, even if you call it love, I just wanna love someone who calls me baby.” From Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan

Part 2

This is ridiculous, you are a Lady of a fine house, virtuous, beautiful, intelligent, kind and your embroidery skills have been praised by Queen Alicent herself and yet here you sit waiting for Prince Aemond to return. To return and not spare you a single glance. Not until you are tucked away from the prying eyes of the court, until he is confident no one can hear your conversations.

You wonder if it is foolishness that keeps you sitting there, leaning against one of the many windows in the library, searching the skies for Vhagar’s great form set against the clouds.

You have rejected a number of suitors, worried your father and mother, made yourself seem all but undesirable in the eyes of the court, all because the prince swore that he would tell his mother. That he would announce to the whole of the realm that he loved you, and that you would be wed as soon as possible. He does not want a Valyrian wedding he said, he has no taste for it, he wants to honor you, honor his mother, and the Seven whom he worshiped.

“Lady y/n?” Lord Cregan Stark’s voice rolls through you like thunder, the deep baritone, the rouge northern brocade that made him pronounce your name just slightly different from everyone else, just enough that shamefully it makes you feel special.

You turn your head away from the towering window and give him a small smile. “Lord Stark, I did not expect to see you here.”

He returns your smile and leans against the wall; arms crossed over his chest.

Seven help you, he did have such strong looking arms, the sight of them never ceases to distract you. Even his thick tunic, and his dark-colored cloak could not hide them. Truly, everything about Lord Stark seemed strong. Queen Alicent said it is common of a Northmen, that they must be strong to survive the winters, while Lady Frey said it was the wolf’s blood in his veins. That all Starks had unnatural strength, speed, and stamina granted to them by the Old Gods. Neither woman’s explanation accounted for the man’s looks though.

Lord Stark is quite handsome, a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones with a close-cut beard, more stubble than a full beard though, and gray eyes like a winter storm. His dark hair is around Prince Aegon’s length, though often tied back and much better cared for. His lips are full and healed, having been cracked and dry from the drastic change in temperature on his trip down south. A small scar runs through the corner of them, on the right side, giving him a more roguish appearance. He said he had gotten it as a child, playing around with his father’s sword. And he was tall, so, so tall, towering over you in a way no man has before.

Then he laughs, the sound warming you to the bones, making a blush rise to your cheeks. “Do not tell me you think me a barbarian, as the others do. I thought you knew me better than that, little fox.”

The name he has graced you with never fails to make your heart stutter and disrupt any coherent thought you might have had. It is a reference to your house sigil, you know that. But the way he says it, how his accent wraps around each syllable, makes it seem far more…intimate than simply a friendly moniker given to you by a man who does not know your customs.

Aemond calls you his, or some sweet term of endearment in High Valyrian in private, sticking to Lady y/h/n in public. You wish he would use your name, you have told him time and time again, even the Queen and Princess Helaena use it. You have been at the Red Keep for nearly a decade now, been in the Princess’ inner circle of friends for almost as long, it would not seem strange to others.

“Lord Stark—”

“Cregan, or Lord Cregan if you must add the lord, as I have told you before.” He corrects you, but not unkindly, his lips curling up into a fondly exasperated smile.

“Lord Cregan, I did not mean to imply I believe that libraries were not your preferred place to spend your time, only that I thought you would be joining the other men on their hunt.”

He glances out the window towards the Kingswood. “And I would think you would be taking tea or sewing with the other ladies.”

You have been caught.

“Ah yes, well, as you know, Prince Aemond is to return today and Princess Helaena asked me to keep watch. She loves her brother very much but has to entertain the other ladies so could not watch for him herself.”

You pray Helaena will forgive you for involving her in a lie.

Cregan hums low in his throat and his eyes flicker to you, picking you apart. “Did she now?”

You nod, not trusting your own voice.

“The prince is lucky to have such a vision of beauty to return home to.” He says, running his eyes down your form, drinking in every detail with something akin to reverence? Though you know you must be seeing things. Cregan Stark would not look at you in such a way, there is no reason to.

“Princess Helaena is quite beautiful.” You agree, trying to keep an air of propriety around you even as your mind screams at you to flee for fear you will say something utterly stupid.

Cregan reaches out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment caressing your cheek. “Aye, but she is not who I speak of.”

You? He means you?

You duck your head, cheeks warming once more. “You flatter me.”

He shifts forward, invading your space, the scent of forest air and woodsmoke filling your nostrils. “Is it flattery if it is true?” He is so close, still a respectable distance but close enough that you can reach out and touch him, can feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“I believe that is a question for the maesters.” You tease lightly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“You are a smart girl, little fox, I am sure you can figure it out.” He teases back, a glimmer in his eyes that excites you.

No one teases you; no one jests or challenges you like Cregan does. You assume it is because they all know Prince Aemond has claim on you, or because you are a lady, but you are educated, and strong-willed, you enjoy a good challenge. You enjoy Cregan speaking to you like an equal.

“Truth is relative, as they say.” You offer, cocking your head innocently, barely able to keep a smile off your face.

“Aye, some say. Though your beauty is truth, relative or not. Surely you must know that.” He counters.

“Vanity is not a virtue.” You say, meeting his gaze. The storm gray of them has softened to a dove gray, mirth dancing within them.

“Neither is lying and yet…”

“Are you accusing me of lying, Lord Cregan?” You gasp in mock outrage.

“About knowing that your beauty is what every man dreams of returning home to? Yes.” He says, his tone light and blithe, but his words, and the way his eyes darken for a moment? It takes your breath away.

“Your beauty, little fox, is one that haunts men’s dreams, that keeps them fighting when they are the last standing. That they keep in their mind as they clash swords, traverse through snow and sea.” He continues, holding your gaze, voice no longer light, but heavy with intent and promise. “It is a beauty one wishes to see the moment they return home before all else, or any others. A beauty that should be admired in all lights and shadows. The setting of the sun and its rising, the summer days and winter nights, one to be cherished.”

You break away from his gaze, a twinge of sadness in your chest. Aemond has never spoken to you in such a way, he has waxed poetic about your beauty, flattered you, lavished you with sweet words, but it has never felt the same as Cregan’s did now. Guilt replaces the sadness, and you toy with the edge of your sleeves. You should not be engaging with Cregan in this way, it was not right, even if it made you feel…something. “You are too kind, My Lord.”

Cregan reaches for you, breaching what was proper, and taking your hand in his. They are so much larger than yours, so warm, so gentle. “Have I spoken out of turn?”

“No, no, I am just—I am a maiden of the South, Lord Stark, I am not used to such forwardness from a man I am not courting with.”

“Honesty, it is honesty, though I apologize for my forwardness.” Cregan says, subconsciously stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Either way, I am not used to it.” You say heart calming with each stroke of his calloused thumb.

Cregan’s brows furrow. “I have heard tales of—the other noblemen, they speak highly of you. Of your beauty, your kindness, your wit, are they all struck dumb by your very being, is that why no one has praised you as you deserve?”

You feel you should say something about Aemond, but what could you truly say? There is no formal betrothal in place, he has not publicly staked his claim beyond a possessiveness that those who spent enough time in court could see. But nothing is ever outwardly stated.

You go to speak, but Cregan stops you. “My apologies, I should not have asked such a thing, how are you to know what lies within the minds of man?”

“You are correct, I do not know their minds.” You say instead and bury down any explanation involving Aemond and his invisible claim.

A dragon roar fills the air, the window vibrates with the force of the sound, and your eyes shoot back to the window. Prince Aemond is home.

“Or they fear the mind of one man and thus hold their tongues.” Cregan says, releasing your hand.

“The prince? I—he—we…it is not—” You cannot get the words out fast enough.

“I will take my leave.” He says, remaining for a moment searching your face until it seemed he had found what he is looking for, and left.

You watch him go, admiring the strength in his stride, when he turns back, a strange look in his eyes. “At the feast tonight, might I have a dance?” He asks.

“With me?” Your heart is pounding against your chest.

He nods.

Footsteps rush by the open library door, and you can hear Princess Helaena calling out to Prince Aemond.

You stand, smoothing out your skirts with shaky hands, why did he make you so nervous? Or is not nerves, but excitement? “Of course, Lord Cregan, I would be honored.”

“I will hold you to that.” Cregan smile, then he disappears down the hall, and you are left alone to hurry after the princess.

Aemond does not call for you until hours after he has returned. When you knock on the door to his chambers, dressed already for the feast, he bids you to enter in a soft voice, exhaustion tinging each word.

You hurry to his side, clasping one hand between your own. “My Prince, I cannot tell you how happy I am that you have returned safely.”

He uses his free hand to cup your cheek, that half smile, half smirk he wears so well on his well sculpted face. “I was only gone for a mere moon, and I was never in any danger, did you doubt your Prince, ñuha nūmio?”

“No, of course not, but…you would not tell me where you were going, no one would.” You say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“That is simply because it was not information you needed.” He says, brushing the pad of his thumb across your lips.

“But if I am to be your wife, would it not be prudent if I were to know where my husband is?”

Aemond’s eye, a brilliant amethyst, hardens, then he looks away and sighs. “Lady y/h/n I have told you patience is a virtue, and your virtue is what I adore most.”

You bite your lip, internally chastising yourself. You know better than to rush him. “My apologies.”

Aemond frees your bottom lip from between your teeth and brushes his lips across your forehead. “Do not take my words so harshly, your eagerness is quite endearing, and I to wish for us to be wed, but it is not yet time.”

You lean into his touch, “I understand.”

“How have you been amusing yourself while I was away, ñuha nūmio? Did anything exciting happen?” Aemond asks, his thumb resting beside the corner of your lip.

“Not much, it seems you had taken all the excitement with you. Though as you know Lord Stark’s arrival has caused quite a stir and now two moons later still is. Many ladies are jockeying for the position of Lady of the North.” You tell him, giggling at the memory of some of your friends’ actions.

“But not you?” Aemond asked, his tone making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“No, I am yours, why would I wish to be Lady of the North?” You reassured him, brushing back a lock of silver hair from his face.

For a moment, you are struck with the memory of the feel of Cregan’s fingertips, rough and calloused but gentle against your skin. The warmth of his skin, the softness of his gaze, the earnestness of his words. What was he looking for when he stared into your eyes, when he took in every detail of your face?

“If you are too distracted, you may leave, My Lady.” Aemond says, the irritation in his voice drawing you from your thoughts.

“No, no, I am not, I am just so happy you have returned.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgement, dressed in his feast finery as well. “I have missed you.”

Your heart flutters. “I have missed you as well.”

He releases your chin to trail his fingers down the column of your neck. His cool touch causes goosebumps to follow in his wake, and he dips his head low to press his lips to your cheek, then begins to follow his fingers with his lips. “I have missed you, your voice, your smiles, your touch.”

You shiver in response, grabbing onto his doublet.

“Do not touch, you will wrinkle the fabric.” He warns, even as his hands grip your waist.

You remove your hands, clasping them behind your back.

“I will not be able to dance with you tonight, mother has brought another girl for me to try and charm.” He says, into your skin, his silver hair brushing against your exposed décolletage.

Your heart sinks. “Not even one dance?”

Aemond sighs and presses a final kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You know I detest it as much as you do, but it is my duty.”

You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to appear on your waterline.

He smooths down your hair and turns you towards the door. “I will try to find time for one dance, but I cannot make any promises.”

His words lift your spirits, and you smile at him. “Thank you, Aemond.”

“Prince Aemond, we have guests tonight.” He reminds you, then he shuts the door, and you hurry back to your chambers.

The Great Hall is decorated beautifully, and you sit at your table with the other ladies of Helaena’s circle. A wine glass in hand as you watch Aemond dance with Cerelle Peake, her brown hair pinned up with a net of gold and sapphires, her umber gown flowing beautifully as she twirled.

“Come now, y/n, you will never be asked to dance with such a scowl.” Johanna Swyft says, poking your cheek goodnaturedly.

“No, she will never be asked to dance because the prince glares at anyone who tries.” Mina Redwyne says, clinking her glass against yours in silent sympathy.

Johanna shoots her a look. “Do keep your voice down, Mina.”

You take a long drink from your glass, emptying it, then setting it down, scanning the crowd for another servant. “Perhaps I do not wish to dance.”

“I am crushed to hear that Lady y/n.” Cregan’s presence makes every lady at your table sit up straight, and you turn to face him.

“Lord Stark.” You say, bowing your head in his direction.

He holds out a hand, and you remember how it nice felt, the phantom warmth still lingering. “I do believe you agreed to a dance, earlier today?”

“Lucky.” Mina hisses, as Johanna juts her elbow into your side to prod you up and out of your seat.

You stand, and take his hand, trying to ignore the twinge of pain in your side. “I did.”

Cregan leads you to the dance floor, and you can hear your friends giggling behind you, much to your utter embarrassment.

“Your friends seem quite encouraging.” Cregan says, barely holding back a laugh.

“When they learned I have no sisters, they decided that they would act as such, apparently that means acting in a most embarrassing way.” You say, falling into the rhythm of the dance.

“I knew you had brothers, but I did not know you were the only daughter, that must make you very precious in your father’s eyes.” Cregan ventures, his large, warm hand pressed to yours as you circle each other.

“I would like to think so.” You smile, your heart aches for a moment with homesickness. “He could not attend this feast, he is too ill to travel, my eldest brother is here on his behalf, accompanied by my second-eldest brother who is here to drink and presumably enjoy the Silk Streets.”

“I never had a taste for brothels.”

“Nor I.”

Cregan smiles and twirls you. “I thought not, for I have heard you are far too virtuous.”

You shrug. “It is more, I do not wish to spend the coin.”

Shock flashes across his face then he laughs, repeating your words quietly with a chuckle, and as you are spun back into his arms you cannot help but laugh as well.

“You are clever, little fox, I will miss you when I return home.” He says, his eyes searching you once more.

Your heart stops, and you trip over your feet. “You are leaving?”

His grip on you tightens as he helps you right yourself. “Aye, I have been here for two moons, that is far too long, my people need me.”

You do not want him to leave, you will miss him dearly, his laugh, his expressions, his stories. You will miss the walks you had taken together, the discussions that ran late into the night, just outside your chambers, the men standing guard pretending they were not listening. The way he presented you with the pelts of animals he had hunted, regaling you with the tale of how he felled it. Who would challenge you now, who would make you laugh, would listen to your words, and respond as if you were an equal, as if your sex did not diminish your intelligence?

“When will you leave?” You ask, unable to keep your voice steady, so you spin away from him to give yourself a moment to smother your emotions.

Cregan pulls you back into his arms, trapping you with his steady gaze. “In a few days time.”

“Oh…” You manage to choke out, swallowing hard, your eyes on your feet.

“I have been meaning to tell you, there just never seemed to be a good time.” Cregan says sheepishly.

You nod, still staring at the floor. “Well, I will miss you.”

“I will miss you too, y/n,” he says softly, then he slips a finger under your chin and lifts it gently. “In all lights, in all seasons.”

Tears blur your vision, and you hastily blink them away, not even noticing he has said only your given name, no title attached. Cregan’s warm thumb catches any stray tears that fall, and you lean into his touch, desperate for more of that something he had made you feel before. That something you realize he was always making you feel, and that he is making you feel right now, though it is tinged with grief. “Cregan, I—”

“Lady y/h/n, I believe I promised you a dance.” Aemond’s voice is steel, ice, the frigid fear that ran through the veins of Vhagar’s victims, and you hurriedly wipe away any remaining tears plastering on a false smile, before you turn, Cregan’s other hand still on your waist.

You drop into a curtsy. “My Prince, that you did.”

Cregan’s hand lingers, and your heart lurches in your chest when the warmth of it is finally removed.

Another song has begun to play, one you love dancing with Aemond to. It allows for close movements and lingering touches that you always long for with him.

“I thought you did not wish to be the Lady of the North.” He says, his eyes picking you apart as Cregan’s did but there is a cold methodical feel to it that makes you feel utterly and horribly exposed.

“He was merely being kind, no one else had asked me to dance.” You protest, falling into the rhythm as you had before.

“No one else should, you are mine.” Aemond say, spinning you out, and then back in.

His hands burn through your gown, your skin, meeting bone, and before you would have loved it, relished the feeling, but now you feel they are too hot, your skin prickles uncomfortably.

“I like to dance; I do not get to dance when you are occupied, and you are often occupied.” You say quietly, your head bowed ever so slightly.

“I had them play your favorite song, as a reward for your patience.” He says, ignoring your words. “Do you like it?”

“I do, thank you.” You smile and raise your head, hoping to catch his eye and find it brimming with affection. That would soothe your wounded heart, would banish the grief you feel at Cregan leaving.

Instead, his eye is elsewhere, you follow its gaze to see it land on the Peake girl. You do not blame her, do not hate her, though your blood turns to fire in your veins, and you brace yourself for what you are going to say next.

“When are we going to be wed, I have been patient for many years, and you never tell me when my patience will be able to end.” You say, holding your chin high. You are not a Peake, but you still have pride.

His eye flicker back to you, his grip tightening. “Are you truly asking this now?”

“Yes. Yes, I am, because I am tired of waiting, tired of watching as you charm others, tired of being shunted to the side because even though you will not claim me, no one else is allowed to.” You can no longer keep your emotions contained. “I want to be happy Aemond, I want to be happy with you, but I am not happy.”

“Not everything is about your happiness, Lady y/h/n.” Aemond snaps.

You reel back as if you have been struck. “I did not say it was. You have been the one saying you wished to marry me, promising me you would tell the whole of the realm how deeply you care for me. I have done nothing else but dote on you and be patient.”

Guilt flashes across his face, and he reaches for you, but you push his hands away. “It is not so simple.”

“Do you see my face in your dreams, does it keep you fighting, keep you marching on, am I the first person you wish to see when you return home, do you wish to see me in all lights, in all seasons?” You throw Cregan’s words in Aemond’s face and wait for a response.

Aemond laughs, taking your hands, and bringing you back into the dance. “You have picked up a new book of poetry, I see.”

You cannot find it in yourself to be angry, the shock settling in, muffling everything until it is as if you are floating underwater. The rest of the night passes that way, you go through the motions, avoiding Cregan, your friends, shooting you concerned looks.

Then the feast ends, guards escort those too drunk to find their chambers, all others dispersing to their places for the night, or into Fleabottom for more revelry.

You try to sleep, but it will not come, Cregan and Aemond’s words echoing in your sleepless mind, until finally you throw off your blankets and wrap a robe around your nightshift.

You creep through the halls, no true direction in mind, letting your feet take you where they wished, when a flicker of umber catches your eye. Pressing yourself behind a pillar, you wait a moment then peek out.

“Lord Stark, might I be allowed to enter?” Cerelle Peake’s voice is soft, as was required for the late hours.

“Lady Peake, might I ask why you wish to enter my chambers?” Cregan asks, his words thick with sleep. His hair is loose, his night shirt exposing his broad chest.

“I thought perhaps you might enjoy some company.” She says, as she takes a step towards him, moving to run a finger down his chest.

Cregan catches her hand and gently returns it to her side. “I do not wish for your company, Lady Peake. Please return to your chambers quietly, and I will not speak with your father about this.”

Cerelle scoffs and turns on her heel, storming down the hallway. You wait until Cregan’s door closed then follow her.

Halfway there, you know where she was going, you have walked these halls many times. Not wanting to further your own pain, you turn back to your own chambers, but your feet disobey you, and you find yourself in front of Cregan’s door.

You knock before you could stop yourself and the door swings open, a tired and angry Cregan standing before you. “Lady Peake, I do not need any comp—” His words die on his lips as he realizes it was you and not Cerelle. “Y/N?”

“All those things you said, about my beauty, about me, did you mean them? Truly?” Tears prick at the backs of your eyes, your chest tight, your bottom lip trembling.

Cregan rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Do not tell me you woke me only to hear more flattery.”

A sob escapes your lips. “I thought you said it was truth, not flattery.”

Cregan snaps awake, pulling you into his arms. “Little fox, I am sorry, I was half asleep, yes, yes, it is truth.”

You cling to him, gripping his night shirt, your face buried in his chest as you sob, every fear, every pain spilling out into his warm embrace. “Tell me you meant it, that you see me in your dreams, that you want me, in all lights, all seasons, that I am not destined to wait forever for someone to love me.”

“I love you, y/n, I love you, you do not need to wait, I will tell you as many times as you desire. I meant it, all of it, you haunt my dreams, you plague my waking thoughts, I want you at any time, in any manner, or light, or moment I can have you.” He says, his voice is steady, and you can feel the vibrations of it deep in his chest, alongside his beating heart.

“I want to go with you to Winterfell, I want to be your Lady of the North, or even just your mistress if my house is not a good enough match, Cregan I do not care. I love you and all I care about is that we are not parted, that we are never parted, I do not think I will be able to breathe if we are parted.” You confess, looking up at him afraid to see what you saw in Aemond’s eye.

Cregan cups your face and kisses you, the taste of honeyed ale on his tongue, his hands warm as he keeps you close, using his foot to kick the door closed so he can press you against it.

Now in the safety of his chambers he breaks the kiss, your breaths intermingling. “You will not be a mistress, you will be my wife, none will come before you.”

“Will you tell your people, will they know?” You ask, your lips brushing against his with each word.

“I will wake the whole Red Keep to announce it now if you wish.” He says, his forehead resting against yours.

You reconnect your lips with his, his stubble brushing against your skin, but you pay it no mind, letting Cregan devour you, his hands moving into your hair, as you loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close.

He groans against you, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, delving in when you part them and exploring every inch of you. “My little fox, my y/n, my wife, my beautiful, clever wife.” He presses the words into your skin, heated lips trailing down to your pulse point.

“Husband.” You sigh, tilting your neck further exposing yourself to him, his teeth sinking into the skin claiming you as his own.

“Say it again for me, my wife, tell me who I am.” He breaths, sucking, and nipping at your neck, returning to darken the marks between creating new ones.

“You, Cregan, my husband.” You say, eyes snapping open when he releases you and stalks over to the window.

He threw it open and stuck his head out, shouting. “Y/N Y/H/N, is to be my wife.”

You rush forward and pull him from the window with a scandalized giggle. “Cregan it is the middle of the night.”

“Then at the very least a few guards heard.” He says, pulling you close and kissing you again, in full view of the window, the moon, anyone else who might look up, and it is exactly as you want it.

I lied in the comments imma do a part two I’ve given into the peer pressure stay tuned my loves!!!

HOTD taglist: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool, @jennifer0305

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: *F/C = your fav color* I'm enjoying writing this so much that I've been writing in ALL of my free time!! :) Have more parts started already so hopefully I won't keep you all waiting too long!

Summary: Maybe if you pretend to be alright, then it will be?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions scars, let me know if I need to add any others :)

The next morning you woke up determined. You would prove to everyone that you were ok. But first, you would need to get out of bed, bathe, and then get dressed... all on your own.

You slowly dragged yourself out of bed, your bones creaking from the lack of movement for so long. Madja may have healed you but you could still feel a lot of the pain. And there were large welts over your body where the deepest cuts had been. You would have some pretty nasty scars soon.

It took way too long to get up and walk towards the bath. You might never make it down to the group if you don't get dressed and go right now. So opting out of bathing, which may have not been the best idea, you grabbed some clothes instead. You got dressed in what you would normally wear. Because you needed everything to be normal.

You slipped a nice F/C dress on, brushed down your hair and braided it back. You walked over to the mirror in your room to check yourself over and that's when you really saw the marks covering your arms.

You gasped and ran your fingers over each mark. Air seems to vanish from your lungs and tears sprang to your eyes. No. You grabbed a hold of that feeling and shoved it deep down inside of you. You would not break.

You heard a creak and whipped your head around to see the shadowsinger standing there. You don't know how long he was there but you knew he made the noise on purpose to make himself known. You watched as his eyes moved along your arms, surely he was disgusted with you.

"Y/N-" He started

"Stop" You interrupted him

He cleared his throat, then waited a minute, "I uh came to see if you needed anything, I can bring you some food" the male gently spoke

"No thank you, I'll be joining you all today. I'll be down in a minute" you gave him a smile, hoping he would buy it.

He eyed you suspiciously but didn't push any further and left your room.

Grabbing a sweater to cover up as many of the marks as you could, you began downstairs. The stairs were just another challenge you needed to get through. You managed to make it down one deep breath at a time.

Before you entered the kitchen, you forced a smile on your face. Walking to grab some coffee, you could feel all eyes on you. Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, Feyre, Mor, Nesta, Elain, Amren, and even Lucien were all watching your every move.

"You got yourself dressed and came down on your own." Rhys stated simply

"I am not a child. I know how to clothe myself," You snapped at him, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it... I just..."

"Y/N I found the most interesting book on the history of the Day Court but it appears to be in one of their old languages. I was wondering if you could help me translate it?" Lucien asked

You felt grateful to the male for changing the subject.

"Yes, I would love to help" you were happy to have something to focus on

You didn't notice Azriel looking between you and Lucien, softly glaring at the male.

As you went to sit at the table, you stumbled slightly, a sharp pain shooting up your leg. Everyone jumped up to help you.

"I'm fine, just tripped on my dress. Seriously, I promise" you gave a small smile to them all as you sat at the table.

You could feel a small shadow wrapping around your ankle and climbing your leg exactly where the pain had been. You smiled softly at the comfort, then remembered that you didn't mean enough to him for him to even show up. A scowl quickly overtook your face and you shooed the shadow away.

Conversation started amongst everyone. You were sat next to Nesta, who started telling you about her most recent smutty book she had read. At least she was treating you like everything was normal.

Besides the fact that you could barely look at Az, you wanted to forgive him. You wanted to take his guilt away but that was a lot harder than it seemed. Avoiding him seemed to be the best option for now.

Eventually everyone started heading off to whatever work they had to accomplish that day. Azriel took off in search of any answers. You, Rhy, Cass, and Lucien were left at the table.

"Until we can figure out why this happened to you, we think its best you stay here, where you're safe" Rhys said

"I will stay with you and we can do research from the house so you'll still be helping" Lucien added

You were about to reluctantly agree, knowing your limits, when Azriel's shadows started to appear and their master not too far behind.

"Eris is here" he said coldly

"Bring him in and be nice. He's the reason y/n is alive." Rhys replied

The spymaster returned quickly with Eris.

"Y/n I had no idea that was going to happen, I need you all to believe that." Eris started out

"Why have you been ignoring our requests to meet?" Rhys countered

"I was trying to figure out what was going on, just like you. These past few days have been rough. I couldn't just go around asking questions, it would raise suspicion... But, I figured out why they attacked and kidnapped her." the autumn court male stated

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog

@favsrachz @julesvanslutta @kitsunetori @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten

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@saltedcoffeescotch @thelov3lybookworm @lilah-asteria @mp-littlebit

[ghostiguro]

woe, bishops upon ye ((my wrists ache so damn much))

i wasn’t happy with the ones i did originally & i wanted to change some details, so here’s a newer version that i am much happier with. :3

ok ramble time ;3c

- leshy: not much changed with his design, just changed some colours. of all the previous refs i did, his was the one i was the least happy with; much happier with this version though. :3👍

- heket: again, not much changed for her design, just changed the colours since the ones before were BLEH (i learned it was something to do with my program settings so i fixed that.!!) with her old ref, she was meant to have a little more chub on her tummy & muscle on her arms, but she had neither of those things so it looked wonky. this version is much more accurate to my original vision for her. :0

- narinder: basically nothing changed cuz he’s perfect already, but i finally figured out how to draw anthro kitties ((sorta)). i also made sure he looked extra fluffy & more like a maine coon, which is the breed of cat i based him on.

- kallamar: i figured out how to draw tentacles & i remembered to add his freckles this time. :D also there is no squidussy. let a man free his tentacles without judgement smh.

- shamura: so their design changed the most; colours changed, their eye colour changed, i added extra bug leggies (like leshy’s lil leg thingies), their head scar is actually visible (still kinda figuring out how their head injury would look after it’s mostly healed, so the scarring might change as i draw them more), & finally!! spider paws. :3 spiders & tarantulas are so freaky looking but they have such adorable lil paws, it confuses me as someone with slight arachnophobia. >.> also, they do have a little spider butt, i just didn’t draw it cuz it wouldn’t have been visible anyway with their clothes & arms in the way. same thing with the lamb & the goat, i didn’t draw their tails cuz it would have barely been visible anyway so. meh.

eventually i plan to draw their other forms & what they looked like when they were itty bitty, same with lamb/goat & the cat boys. but my wrist is killing me & i have other ideas i wanna draw so. it’ll have to wait. >_>

anyway, i hope you like them. :3 👉👈

[heyhiwhatsupdude]

Here’s a dumb thing I wrote enjoy. Astarion x Reader :3

(You were in a particular rough battle, one that ended in Withers needing to resurrect you, and Astarion is not happy)

His eyes are dark as life jolts back into your body. No longer are you in the cave in the Underdark where your life was torn from you, but lying in Astarion’s arms in a camp amidst glowing mushrooms. Crowded around you are your other companions, a mix of worry and relief hanging in their expressions. As you try to sit up, Astarion gently guides you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks softly. You nod and start to stand up, stretching your recently replaced soul throughout all of your limbs, trying to make it fit back where it once had. Karlach extends a hand and helps you to your feet.

“Thought we lost you there, soldier,” she says, a weak laugh creeping out behind her words. “Fortunately for you this guy is better than us at healing.” She gestures over her shoulder at Withers, who seems rather uninterested in the whole ordeal. He nods slightly, and then continues to stare blankly ahead of him.

“Thanks, guys,” you say. You reach your hand up the back of your neck where in theory a gaping wound should still stand, but there isn’t so much as a scar. The sword that should have ended your life for good didn’t even leave a mark.

Astarion rises to his feet next to you, eyes still dark with something you can’t distinguish. Suddenly all of your other companions have somewhere else to be, quickly and awkwardly slipping away to their tents as Astarion stares you down, eyes taking in your every movement. Rather than ask him his thoughts, you silently begin to walk away from the camp, towards an area where your conversation will not be so easily overheard. After a moment you hear his footsteps follow you.

“What were you thinking?!?” His voice comes out in a hiss, anger seeping into his words. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

You turn to glance at Astarion. “It wasn’t stupid in the moment. I didn’t think he would be so fast.” Astarion tilts his chin up.

“But WHY did you have to do that? I was perfectly fine to handle myself!”

“Are you angry with me for trying to protect you?” Despite the haze of being resurrected, you still remember seeing the rush of a sword toward Astarion, and feeling your body move on its own. Though he may have been able to evade it, the blade meeting it’s mark on Astarion would have meant his certain doom as well.

“Yes. I am.” Astarion takes a step closer to you. “I would have been fine.”

You shake your head. “You don’t know that. It might have ended up like this anyway, someone being resurrected.”

“Something that we didn’t even know would work until just now. And might never work again!” He adds the second sentiment on hastily, pointing a finger at you.

“But it did work, and I’m fine now.”

Suddenly he can no longer contain himself.

“You didn’t have to watch you die!” Astarion shouts, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to watch all of your blood rush from your neck, the life slip from your eyes. You didn’t have to watch as the only person who you have ever cared about crumple to the ground. And it was MY fault.” Tears spring from his eyes. “I thought I lost you forever, love. Hells, you DIED.”

Tears pour freely down his face, his voice catching in his throat. Tears well in your own eyes as well, knowing the hurt you have caused him, knowing you would have reacted the same had the situation been flipped, still further knowing that you did not regret your decision one bit.

“I would do it again, Astarion. For you.” He grabs your face in his hands, thumbs forcing your chin to tilt up, forcing your gaze to his.

“Don’t. Please, for my sake, don’t. I don’t care if you’re fine in the end. I cannot….. I cannot…” he buries his face in your neck as a sob cuts off his words. You wrap your arms around him gently. After a moment he regains his composure and whispers,

“I cannot bear to see you die again. Please. Don’t make me watch my worst nightmare a second time.” He pulls back, making sure you meet his gaze once again. “Please.”

“Okay,” you whisper. Astarion brushes his thumb across your lips before gently bringing them to his.

“Thank you, darling.”

You spend the rest of the night wrapped tightly in his embrace, his fingers tracing the back of your magically unscarred neck as though afraid your wound may reopen and steal you from him once again.

[myosotisa]

i'm starvin, darlin - e.m.

Eddie Munson x Reader

ǁ summary: Since coming back from the Upside Down, Eddie has slowly been changing. Each week seems to bring something different and he finds himself doing things he never thought he would.

ǁ tags: gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no y/n. nickname used (sweetheart). mentions of season 4 final episode and what occurred. canon divergent (every one lived). it's not smut, but smut adjacent. it's sexy

ǁ word count: 2k

ǁ notes: i sat down and wrote an entire one shot in one sitting again. and i am also not going to edit this one. and i do not feel bad for lowercase hozier title, so don't even try me like that. if y'all really like it, i can add a part 2 with smut, but this is it for now

-

There are still a lot of things Eddie is having to come to terms with since the night his heart stopped.

That night in the Upside Down, laying in Dustin’s arms, he had died. Without a doubt. Dustin had felt his pulse and there was nothing there. And though he didn’t know CPR, had no idea what he was doing, Dustin had laid him down on the ground and started to beat against his chest. Like maybe if he hit hard enough and in the right place, his friend would come back to life.

Somehow it worked. No one bothered to ask why.

But they all knew something was wrong two days later. Eddie, barely breathing and with a weak heartbeat, had been dragged back to the surface and hidden away in the RV they had stolen. Someone watched him round the clock as they debated what to do. If they should try to get him to a hospital, how they’d be able to explain it. But then something miraculous began to happen:

Eddie started healing. All on his own. Way faster than any person should have been able to.

His skin stitched itself back together faster than should be possible, leaving less scar tissue than it should have behind. His chest began to rise and fall in more steady breaths, his heart beat getting stronger, bones resetting themselves with slow and quiet creaks as he laid in that RV bed and slept. He’d been asleep since they brought him back.

The day he woke up, his body had almost entirely healed itself. From the brink of death, having even stepped over to the other side, and now he was almost back to before it ever happened. It had only been a week.

Everyone rejoiced, refusing to question anything weird that may have happened in the Upside Down and just thinking they finally won for once. Max had casts on both her arms but was otherwise unharmed, Steve had recovered from his own injuries at the rate of a normal human and now sported a scar around his throat that he sometimes felt self conscious about. Dustin was on crutches with his broken leg for another month at least. Eddie was alive and whole and back to himself. They’d made it, everyone had made it.

He began to notice more and more things that were different as the days went on.

The first thing he caught on to was that he had the capability to be strong. Way stronger than someone who had recently been bed ridden should be. It was like in the comic books with the Hulk – if he wasn’t paying attention or if he got too emotional, he could easily break anything. A walkman destroyed, a ceramic bowl reduced to shards, a metal pipe bent beyond fixing, the wooden handle of a hammer shattered in his grip. The boys were all present for the hammer incident and sighted it as one of the coolest things they had ever seen. They swarmed him, asking him how he did it, what else he could do, how strong he really was.

Only the other teens, Steve, Nancy, Robin, you, started to look a little bit closer.

When the next few changes became apparent, it was clear something unnatural had happened to Eddie that night in the Upside Down. He could feel other people's feelings. They brushed against his consciousness like ghosts whenever he looked at someone. Happiness like warm rays of sunshine, fear like a shuddering gust of wind, anger like hot coals pressed to his skin. It wasn’t a conscious effort – in fact, there were a lot of times he wished he could turn it off. Whenever he looked too hard at someone, it’s like his brain adjusted to a different frequency and their emotions reached out to him, no matter what they were. And he didn’t struggle to make sense of the sensations like he thought he might, his brain completed the dots easily at first, but then he began to recognize them consciously. It was certainly useful sometimes, especially when it came to you, but it still felt a bit invasive. When he’d explained it to a few people, he assured he tried to ignore it whenever he could, but sometimes he couldn’t help but react. The icey spike of terror he felt when you woke up next to him from a nightmare. The velvet comfort that enveloped you and him when he held you after.

The first time he spoke into someone’s mind it was an accident. Steve had whipped toward him, breath catching in his chest, eyes wide and mouth open in a gasp. Eddie felt it like ice down his spine. “Did you… You did that?” He’d asked breathlessly. It had been so shocking, Eddie wasn’t even sure what’d he said, or projected, or whatever it was.

“I - I don’t know.”

Steve stepped closer, suddenly looking determined. “Try to do it again.”

It was a slithering feeling when he dipped back into Steve’s mind. Like sliding his way in between cracks to a place he didn’t belong, seeping into the forefront of his thoughts to plant one of his own. It made him feel dirty, uncomfortable, and wrong. But it worked. Steve explained it as having a thought like his own but it came out in Eddie’s voice instead. An intrusive thought but not an uncomfortable one.

As with all of the other discoveries, a meeting was called. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Will, El, Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, Steve, and you. Steve did most of the talking while Eddie sat and looked at his hands. These meetings, while he acknowledged were important for everyone to keep track of his progression into… something, it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal in a cage. A magician with a magic trick. All the boys immediately begged him to do it to them, they wanted to see what it felt like, wanted to see how easy it was for him to do it. 

Nancy and Jonathan had shooed them, catching on to how overwhelmed Eddie was, their excitement and curiosity battering against him like a whipping wind of too much. Once it was just the older people in the room, you crossed over to where he was, kneeled down in front of him, reached out to hold his hand.

Pity felt like someone was pissing in his pants.

“Are you okay?”

How could he say no? How could he admit that he was scared, confused, and feeling more and more like a monster with the passing days? “It’s just a lot. To deal with.”

Your smile was pained as you pushed yourself up onto your calves and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. His came around your waist on instinct, the breath feeling like a wheeze in his lungs as he held tight. Face pressed into your hair with his eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled deep in relief.

That was when the next thing changed.

It was a desire. A need. One he couldn’t place a name to. Like he was desperately missing something, desperately craving something and he didn’t know it was. It crawled under his skin like ants and sent him scratching for a feeling that couldn’t be satiated. No matter what he tried: eating, drinking, masturbating, exercising. The feeling wouldn’t go away. It got stronger day after day, his mind focusing more and more on the void it left behind until it was all he could think about.

Steve threw a little get together at his house once a month or so. Just time for everyone to get together, eat some food, listen to music, play board games, maybe watch a movie. This was the first get together since his hunger began.

He was sitting on the couch on his own, decompressing. While normally he was right in the middle of everything, today it was a lot to handle when he was hyperfocused on the crawling beneath his skin. He had his legs spread wide, hands resting on them, leaning deep into the cushions of the couch in Steve’s basement. While he had initially tried to close his eyes, hang his head back, maybe stare at the ceiling – he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting back to you.

You and Eddie had been friends for a long time. Understandably, you’d gotten much closer after the events in March. The two of you had helped each other through hard nights of nightmares, panic attacks in parking lots, flashbacks in public. You’d been a great comfort to him since he came back. But today your laugh sounded like music. The smell of your perfume hit him even across the room. Each emotion crashed over him in waves, pushing and receding like the tide as he tried to get off your frequency, unentangle himself from you before he did something he didn’t mean to do.

I’m starving.

Your back stiffened, the grip on your plastic cup getting just a bit tighter. A moment of fear quickly shifted to mellowed surprise, curiosity. He’d never spoken into your mind before, hadn’t meant to do so now. But you still shifted, your eyes slowly coasting across the room until you caught sight of him on the couch.

A shock of electricity shot down his spine as you made eye contact, his hands tightening over his thighs in reaction. Unsure exactly what to do, he settled for projecting again. Slithered his way into your ears and settled a respectful distance from the area he’d never been brave enough to venture. Sorry, he offered with a wince, didn’t mean to.

What he didn’t expect was the utter flood of feeling that hit him next. Like a drip of warm honey settling into the space between his hips, pooling there in a subtle swirl as the warmth from it started to diffuse outward. You realized you’d been staring and your eyes flit away, but the feeling didn’t cease. In fact, it only got stronger. Your lower lip caught on your teeth as you shifted between your feet. Things that would be completely normal to see, wouldn’t have anyone looking twice, but Eddie could. Your desire. The want that poured from you like water when your eyes first met his.

Was this the first time? Had something changed between you and him? Or had he just never caught on before?

The ants beneath his skin began to vibrate as he narrowed in on the feeling, on you. Like the part of him that had slithered into your thoughts was now bearing down, digging in for purchase, wanting to stay awhile and feed on this new feeling, what you were offering. It didn’t even occur to him what he was doing, how invasive it might be, how wrong he normally would have felt. All he knew is that it felt like licking at the thing he’d been craving for so long and he was helpless to chase after it.

Sweetheart. It came easy as breathing now, teeth sunk into your consciousness from where you stood across the room. You whirled on him again, another flood of warmth hitting him deep as you leaned your hip against the counter you were standing next to and focused on him. What’s got you so worked up?

He couldn’t even consider how bold he was suddenly being, the fear that he might ruin this friendship well out of his grasp. Especially when your embarrassment spiked along with the want, the pool of warmth now suddenly coming to life to have a heartbeat of its own. Your eyes widened, shifting on your feet again as you broke eye contact. It only took a few moments before you couldn’t help but look back at him again. The buzzing settled further, now like a purr beneath his skin. It was bearable as long as you kept your eyes on him.

You wanna do something about it?

-

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-

thanks for reading, please reblog and leave a comment if you liked it!

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a spooky Tim au that I think you would like.

Tim is not human and has never been. He knows this. His "parents" know this. The rouges know this. However, none of the Bats but one know this. When around the Bats, Tim looks like a Normal Human. His skin is pale but does look like flesh and his eyes are weirdly pale but they still look like eyes. His hair has a weird texture but its prob just his shampoo, so surely the slightly off texture in how his skin feels is just his lotion, right? His teeth are a bit sharp but still human teeth and his movements a bit odd, but what Bat doesn't move strangely?

However when they aren't around, it is a totally different story. His skin changes to look like porcelain and his eyes are so very clearly made of painted glass. His hair is made of string and twine died black and when its fist or foot lands a blow it feels like being hit by a sand bag and not flesh and bone. His teeth are made of shards of broken glass and his movements are far to Jerry yet smooth, like a puppet on strings that glides through the air in a horrible mimicry of walking. This Thing that wears the Robin Suit is Not a human, as long as it isn't around Batman or Nightwing. When either are there, The Rouges can see the shift. The way it suddenly looks so *human*. But once Batman leaves it shifts back into being a *thing*.

Tim is only a Thing when he is either scaring the rouges or Truly Comfortable. Young Justice knows that Tim is not a human and he doesn't hide it from them. There is never any fight about his civilian identity because he freely tells them, "I am a Thing made from Glass and Sand and Fabric and Magic. He is not a Person nor has he ever Been A Person. He is not some poor sap who was transformed into a Thing, he is a Thing that was created and then given life with Magic.

As for how Jack and Janet acquired a Thing like Tim, well. They're archeologists. They dug up an old tomb, found a coffin that was chained closed and bolted to the ground and like every White Person In A Horror Movie, they opened it without a second thought. Inside they found an ancient, cursed doll. It came to life when Janet cut herself trying to clean off one of its broken glass eyes to get a better look and the blood fell on it. The pair then decided this was a lot easier than child birth and kept the cursed doll, naming it Tim.

My gods. I love the ending of this cause it gives off the same vibes as "humans will adopt anything" tropes in space travel fiction.

I have one caveat with the Bats not knowing. I hc that Cass knows. Tim's body language is too strange for her not to notice something.

Everything else? Beautiful. It would be hilarious if people keep trying to tell the Bats. Here's a possible scene:

Goon: *points finger at Tim* "That thing beside you isn't human!"

Tim: *fakes having his shoulders drop as he turns slightly away in dejection*

Dick: *absolute fury as he beats up the goon*

Tim: *decides not to get revenge after seeing what Nightwing does to the person*

or

Rogue: "I'm telling ya, whatever he is got string hair, porcelain skin, and doll like movements to him."

Batman: *hums, takes them out, proceeds to Batcave*

Tim: "What's up, B?"

Bruce: "[] said that you look different when we're not around you."

Tim: *tilts his head* "I mean, I like playing up the rumors that the Bats are cryptids, demons from hell, spirits, or whatever when I can. I add effects to my costume to increase the spook factor."

Bruce: *nods and turns away to end the conversation for now*

Tim: *makes plots to ruin that rogue's life for a bit as revenge and a message*

I'm curious how wounds and scars look on Tim's porcelain skin. How does he heal? Does he even have a spleen?

I'm also down for two avenues:

Jason doesn't know like the rest of the Bats. After they start to become close to each other, Jason retaliates against folk who try to demean Tim. He tries to hide the comments from Tim until he learns that the teen finds it funny and ramps up the rumors on purpose. Then he switches to pulling pranks on people with Tim to create more wild theories and gossip.

Jason finds out at TT, and Tim ensures no one actually believes Jason. Perhaps he even starts the notion that Jason was affected by the Pit. It drives Jason bonkers that no one is trusting him or accepting his words for what they are.

[starlightazriel]

bee 1

series general psa: this series is not for everyone proceed with caution and check warnings before indulging I love you all<3

desc: (fem reader) modern au best friends to lovers, roommate az, angsty + smutty, multiple parts (not sure how many yet at least 5)

warnings: 18+ , light smut, light angst?, pining, vibrator, self stimulation, drug/alcohol abuse/addiction, platonic childhood fluff, childhood trauma cus its az helloo, readers a lil insecure, cancer minor character

wc: 2.7k

a/n: I'm salivating

other parts will be found on my azriel masterlist

one

"Get it offff!" I screamed to absolutely no one in particular. My mother was inside cooking, my father still at work, so they clearly wouldn't hear me. My arms flailed wildly around my head. "It's going to sting me!" I scream again, going cross eyed as I looked at the bee perched on my nose, the bee buzzed, sharp pain shot through my nose, my eyes welled up with tears, too frantic to notice the boy across the street, watching me from his own front yard.

"Are you okay?" my eyes drift to the boy who had just moved in across the street, he was eating a lollipop, now standing on the sidewalk in front of my front yard. I had stopped flailing, but I was still crying, tears rolling down my cheeks as I held my hand to my nose. I haven't spoken yet, and the boy shrugs, about to turn around and retreat back to his own house. His skin was tan, hair black, short, but shaggy with a slight wave to it, there were two small purple bruises underlining each of his hazel eyes, I also noticed the scars covering his hands, almost looking like a thousand tiny cuts that had healed over, he was taller than me, and maybe just about the cutest boy I had ever seen in my nine years of life.

"It stung me," I say, watching him, he stops again, a half smile on his face, cheek popped out from the candy he was eating.

"That's because youre supposed to stay still," he informs me, matter of factly, my face scrunches up, eyes squinting at him, he laughs, pulling the candy from his mouth again. "Im Az, I just moved in yesterday, over there," he turns and points back toward his house before turning to me again. "What's your name?" he asks, his head cocking to the side slightly, it reminded me of when my parents brought my golden retriever home on my fifth birthday, I had named him Boots.

"Y/n," I inform him matter of factly, eyeing the candy that he had. A blow pop, my favorite, "do you have any more of those?" I ask, he looks at his candy, smirking and then looking back at me. "Specifically green apple," I add, it was my favorite flavor.

"Yeah, but I'm saving the green apple," he shrugs, still smirking. I purse my lips slightly, eyeing the bruises again.

"What happened to your eyes?" I ask, my own meeting his and he shrugs again.

"Got caught stealing and my step mom made my brothers pop me," he responds, my eyes widen in surprise.

"What did you steal?" I ask, my eye brows raising slightly, I couldn't imagine the trouble I would be in for stealing, but it wouldn't have been that.

"Blow pops from the corner store," he smirks and I shake my head in surprise, I would never think to steal anything in my life. "You look like Pennywise, you should put something on that," he points to my nose, I reach my hand up to touch it again, the sting aching.

"You stole them, and you can't give me even one? And who is Pennywise?"

"The clown? Your parents don't let you watch scary movies?" He asks and I shake my head, eyeing the lollipop again. "Fine, I'll go get you one but only because I feel bad for you cus your parents are strict. And only if you go fix your clown nose, Bee."

"I told you, my names y/n."

"Not anymore."

-

"Hey," I smiled softly as Azriel entered the kitchen in our shared apartment. I was perched on my stool, laptop on the counter in front of me with my most recent homework assignment open. I was pretty much glued to my computer these days, trying to become a nurse while also working a full time bartending shift at Murphys didnt leave me with much extra time. Our eyes met for a brief moment and mine narrowed at his slightly dilated pupils, his eyes quickly darted from mine as he poured himself a drink. "It's early," I commented, and he glanced back at me for a second before shrugging his shoulders and chugging the drink in a few gulps.

"What do they say Bee? It's 5 somewhere, yeah?" he smirked, his eyes finding mine again, I swallowed, feeling my cheeks heat slightly. I averted my gaze, my eyes landing back on my laptop screen, "you working tonight?" he asked, walking past me to the living room, I swiveled around on my stool, facing him now, my back to the counter.

"Yeah, nine to three," I said as I watched him ruffling through the files of drawings that were on his desk. He had a nice little home set up for drawing, an optional backlight built into the desk with an additional overhead lamp, a comfortable chair, an array of drawing utensils and unlimited transfer paper for tattooing.

There were dozens of Azriels drawings all around the apartment, even a few of me.

"If youre up for it we're all supposed to go to the beach tomorrow, Rhys' parents went home so the beach house is empty again," Azriel said, and I find my eyes drifting to his lips while he spoke, I quickly snap my eyes back up.

"Yeah maybe, I'll see how dead I am tomorrow after working all night. I have a paper due Monday too," I bit my lip, my eyes fixing on his jawline, the way it flexed just a little each time he swallowed.

"Just let me know, you know youre always welcome," he shrugged, checked his phone again and then started toward the door. "See you later, Bee, I got clients back to back the rest of the day."

Before I could even get any more words out he was out the door. "Bye Az," I said softly to the empty apartment, rising to my feet.

Azriel had always been there for me. Since the day after he moved across the street and we'd met and bonded over green apple blow pops, we had been near inseparable since. So naturally, when I got into college, he offered that I move in to his place, since it was closer to the city, 'I'm barely home, you'll have all the silence to study,' I recalled him saying when I had been hesitant about it. After high school, I had taken four years off to help my mother tend to my grandmother while she battled cancer, so even with my reservations about the idea I had ended up taking Azriel up on his offer... The alternative would have been dorming with fresh out of high school freshmen at twenty two years old.

The only reason why I had been hesitant really is because I had been completely and hopelessly in love with Azriel since I was fifteen years old.

I knew it was stupid. If it was going to happen, it would have happened already. He liked older women first of all, and I was two years younger. Plus, I was just Bee to him, just his friend, just the girl that had lived across the street. And that's all he would ever see me as, just his younger best friend that he had to look out for.

Azriels routine was always the same, he'd come back for his lunch break around the same time every day, whether it was to actually eat lunch, get something for work, or have a drink or two, he wouldn't be home again until usually the evening or late at night. Until whenever he was done either tattooing, or drinking with his friends from the shop after they had all finished.

So any time he left after his lunch break, I knew I had the house to myself for a while.

I put music on first, turning the volume almost all the way up before I retrieved my rose vibrator from my room and I crossed the hall to Azriels room. I knew I shouldn't be doing this, I knew it was wrong, some might even say a little bit creepy. But the rush... It was well worth it.

His bed wasnt made, there was clothes scattered, a few more folders on the small coffee table were stacked next to his bong and a small tray with powder residue, a twenty dollar bill curled next to it, unraveled after having been rolled up. "Messy," I mumbled to myself before I climbed into his bed.

I bit my lip slightly in anticipation, and slid my t shirt over my head, I tossed it to the floor, my shorts next, leaving me naked on Azriels bed. I leaned back onto his pillows, relaxing slightly, tipping my head back against them. His scent filled my nostrils, my toes curled, heat seeming to spread over my skin.

I closed my eyes and ran my fingers over my skin, Azriel consumed my mind, my senses as I slowly slid a finger over my opening gently dipping into the wetness that had gathered there.

I moaned softly, imagining the way his rough fingers would feel on my skin. I imagined his naked body, imagined how big he would be, imagined the way he would kiss me, the way he would suck on my skin.

-

"Dammit," Azriel muttered to himself, searching through the folder of drawings again and again. His next appointment was in only twenty minutes, and he had of course, grabbed the wrong folder. He rose to his feet quickly, informing Kat, the shops receptionist, that he would be right back and to let his client know when they got there.

When he reached the apartment he could hear music before he even unlocked the door, he chuckled softly, figuring that Bee was cleaning the apartment. She would blast music every time.

He entered into the living room and headed to his desk, scrambling through the folders looking for the right piece. "Fuck," he said quietly to himself, realizing that the drawing wasnt there. It had to be in his room.

His eyebrows drew together when he noticed his door open, and when he reached the doorway he halted, his lips parting in surprise.

It was Bee.

In his room.

Touching herself.

He knew he should go, he knew he should forget the drawing, cancel his appointment, and turn right back around and leave before she saw him. He would have to make something up for his client, but it would save Bee the embarrassment of the sight before him.

He couldn't move though. His mouth went dry, his cheeks reddened as he watched, his cock twitched in his pants.

Her head was turned to the side, eyes squeezed shut, face half buried in his pillow, her back was arched, legs spread wide open on his bed. Her pink nipples were adorned with small rhinestone nipple rings, her breasts were peaked in the air, chest shuddering with her ragged heavy breaths. And her moans. The sound had his gut churning and his ears hot, he couldn't move, he couldn't stop looking.

His eyes landed between her legs next, his mouth watered at the sight of her puffy pink lips. Her pussy throbbed, her juices glistening in the rather bright light of his bedroom, she held a toy to her clit, grinding against it as her other hand flew up, rubbing and squeezing at her breast. She turned her head then, her eyes opening to look down at herself but they landed on Azriel instead, her eyes widened and her face went from shocked, to horrified, to ashamed. She almost choked, chucking her toy across the room and scrambling too her feet, it buzzed a little louder now that it wasnt suctioned to her clit. Azriel watched dumbfounded from his place in the doorway, his cheeks red, his whole body feeling hot.

"Turn around!" she shrieked, trying to cover her most intimate parts with her clothes she had retrieved off of the floor and he whirled instantly, putting his back to her now.

"Y/n, fuck, Im sorry, I forgot something," he swallowed, his voice sounded slightly strained, his mouth almost too dry to speak. He never really used her name, she was always just Bee. He didnt know why he was apologizing even, it was his room after all. He'd have to ask her about that later though.

"Im sorry, I- Your bed is comfortable," was all she managed to get out.

He couldn't help but turn his head slightly when she pushed passed him to the hallway toward her room, and he noticed he small tattoo of a bee at the top of her left cheek, a lump formed in his throat at the view of her backside, her door slammed behind her and he was left stunned. Her vibrator was still buzzing on the floor and he picked it up, turning it off and he tossed it on the bed next to the wet spot that was there now, he didnt know what else he was supposed to do with it. He figured shed come back for it later.

He was trying to process what had just happened but his phone rang, it was Kat, informing him that his client had been there for fifteen minutes already so she hoped he was on his way.

Azriel snapped out of it, finding the folder he needed on the coffee table and he tucked it tightly under his arm pit. His cock ached in his pants and he didnt know how to feel about it. This was Bee. His best friend Bee, he hadn't ever looked at her in any other light than that. She was beautiful, sure, but she was Bee. His silly, goofy, younger childhood friend. They had practically grown up together.

Azriel reached into his pocket, pulling out a small round tin, the folder still neatly tucked under his arm as he used his car key to give himself a little bump. He rubbed his nose free of any powder, before he shoved the tin back into his pocket, he had to get back to the shop. He wasnt even on his way yet and his client was waiting already, he couldn't remember the last time he felt so flustered.

Azriel found the rest of his day to be extremely hard to focus. He thought about texting Bee, trying to make her feel better in some way because he knew she must be going absolutely out of her mind with embarrassment. He just didnt know what to say.

He did know that he couldn't get the image of her splayed out on his bed out of his head though. It was like torture, he was aching for release, shifting uncomfortably in his seat while he tried to focus on tattooing. He couldn't stop wondering what she would taste like, what it would feel like to have her underneath him.

She had gone to work when he got back, even though he had tried to finish a little early, hoping he could at least have a conversation with her. It wasnt just that he couldn't stop thinking about what she looked like naked, he was also slightly concerned about the awkwardness of the situation. The fact they lived together and saw each other every day. Was she going to avoid him now? Did he want her to avoid him for a while?

Azriel groaned quietly to himself, kicking his jeans off of his body when he was finally in bed.

Usually with this much of a pent up sexual frustration, he would have called one of his hook ups. Let them take care of it for him. But he couldn't get Bee out of his head. He was battling himself internally.

Something felt morally wrong about looking at Bee like that. It had always been his job since they'd met to look out for her. He felt like this was the opposite of looking out for her, like he was becoming the problem that he was supposed to be protecting her from. It felt like dangerous territory, but it was her lips he thought about wrapped around his cock when he pleasured himself that night.

-

a/n: hope there's no mistakes lmk i proof read this very quickly because i have to be up in 3 hours but im literally frothing at the mouth hehehe

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Epic Sans Character Interpretation Masterlist

Some of this is canon, but for the most part this is my interpretation of the character. I might expand on or add on to this later if I forget anything or want to add on. I hope this helps!

Since Yugo is Filipino, I like to Hc that Epic is too and speaks Tagalog

And has other cultural mannerisms like not wear shoes in indoor living spaces and the only footwear would be house slippers

Epic and his Papyrus were created from test tubes

To make them, EpicGaster cut out holes in his palms.

Epic was created first years before Papyrus—it was never said when, but I believe Epic is at least 16 years or so older than EpicPapyrus and raised him given that Epic was old enough to work in a lab with EpicGaster but was clearly still younger than the other adult assistants

EpicGaster caused both the holes in Epic’s hands

And it’s why Epic hates them

Just like his Eye. It’s why he wears fingerless gloves and keeps his left eye closed most of the time

Epic’s magic, unlike all other monsters (I guess the exception could be snow types like Snowdrake but even then I think he’d be colder) is cold because of the Eye

An explanation for this

If Epic is killed/dies, the Eye will regenerate him to his previously unaffected state

However, if Epic is nonlethally injured, the injury will remain and heal at a faster rate than normal monsters, but the damage is not immediately undone like it would be if he died. Epic hates dying, so he’d take getting injured over dying even if it means he’ll scar/need to rely on his regenerative healing factor.

Epic is a genius given he was one of the Royal Scientists and worked with EpicGaster in his studies at a very young age

He has multiple PhDs (in what I assume are physics and such) and I believe has knowledge of and can vaguely see/understand a universe’s Code.

Epic loves manga and anime and makes it his job to enlighten his friends

It is his sacred duty to “make them men of culture” as well

Epic is a weeb and has tons of silly merch and collectibles

it also makes me think he’d do a lot of casual cosplay, like maybe wear Vash Stampede’s trenchcoat, but purple, and stuff like that

Epic’s style is primarily masculine, but he does enjoy gender nonconforming and feminine fashion as well

Some go to outfit HCs

Ofc, he also enjoys clothes that reference or allude to memes and pop culture. Some examples of his favorites are Cookie Monster, Shrek, Dragonball Z, and Trigun Stampede

Epic studied his Code in the past to stop dying in his dreams from the Eye.

When EpicGaster fell into the Void, he was no longer able to see through the Eye in Epic’s body. It’s a little comfort to Epic, though, and he hates and fears his Eye more than anything else

Epic is extremely depressed and often exhausted due to dying in his sleep and developing a high LV because of it. He hides behind an overly cheerful façade not as a lie but basically to “fake it ‘til he makes it”

And he is a goofy guy! I think most of it is genuine if not exaggerated

It’s easy for Epic to get emotionally blunted or numb bc of the sleep deprivation and LV, and he tries to hide this by keeping up his goofy memelord personality.

He’s used to running on little to no sleep after forcing himself to get used to it to avoid the nightmares. He’s constantly snacking on sweets and caffeinated drinks as a result

A bunch of silly headcanons that @vantriloquist came up with along with a few additions of my own that I think scream Epic

Cw: suggestive for this HC and the art but it’s all SFW:

Epic’s always carrying around condoms to use for a bit/joke that he accidentally develops the habit of nibbling on a condom wrapper whenever he’s stressed

He makes sure no one sees him do it but he kicks himself for making a bit become an addiction xD Now he’s got an oral fixation and a biting k*nk and it’s no one else’s fault but his.

Or he’s joked about them for sexy times so much that now he’s Pavloved himself to get horny whenever he or someone else holds a packet

Epic loves kids: the best “Bruhncle” ever

He loves playing with them and every child he was shown interacting with had a good time with him, like TK, Goth, baby Epic!Asriel and Palette Roller

I think Epic wants kids of his own with a loving partner but has accepted it as more of an out of reach fantasy. If he does have kids of his own he strikes me as a total wonderful girl dad who’d love the tea parties and Barbie dressups they’d do together

I think bc of this he’d be very protective of kids in general

Epic’s friends mean the world to him. Look at how much he adores Cross and would do anything for his best friend

Epic got body pillows, like his condoms and rubber chickens, as a bit

However, there is only one he’s serious about: his Hatsune Miku body pillow of grandma Miku from the AMV by Deco27 in the song called Blue Planet and is very proud of his GILF

He got a Cross body pillow as a joke and would send screenshots to Cross about taking his new best friend out to hang. Cross got jealous and stole the pillow and burned it later

Epic has goofy rizz

Earnest and sweet, he’s an absolute goofball. Think corny and so wholesome you don’t even feel the cringe anymore. I’m talking he takes you out on a date for a beautiful picnic with goodies he made and bought and when the sun sets he’d pose with a rose in his mouth and lay on his side with an arm at his waist and wiggle his boney brows when he asks “ya like jazz?”

He’d tell Cross “yo, I didn’t know my place was an art gallery since you’re drawin’ straight up masterpieces here bruh!”

Epic would tell Killer that he loved the outfit the fashionista made for him and that he loved it so much he wanted to “lovingly bite his fingers off/pos”

His flirts and compliments are memes and an unholy amalgamation of modern day and outdated lingo; nothing to make anyone uncomfortable however, consent and boundaries are important to Epic, especially after most of his were violated for the better part of his formative years by EpicGaster (shit parenting and because EG could see through the Eye, so Epic had little to no privacy or autonomy)

Like the rest of the Chromatic Crew, Epic has some meta abilities and occasionally breaks the fourth wall

For example, he can see Color’s flavor text and jokes that Color is the doge meme, much to Color’s befuddlement (my links aren’t working here so try checking out @toffeebrew they did such cute art about this)

Epic flirts but give him a genuine flirt or compliment? Bashful and shy he’s a blushy mess

Call him the cutest and sweetest man you’ve ever met and he forgets his own name in the melted puddle he becomes

Over twenty years of nonstop fighting in his sleep and gaining LV from killing the creatures of the Eye has made Epic a magic powerhouse

His mana is off the charts and it’s why he can keep up with Cross, a monster whose Soul was half of a Determined humans and now possessed DT even after his split from XChara

He doesn’t work out extensively like Cross but they do spar, as do him and Delta and occasionally Killer to socialize and not because he wants to keep his body in shape/muscled like Cross or Delta or even toned like Killer but bc he wants to stay agile and sharp against the Eye

He and Cross play fight and rough house a lot too. It may look scary to an outside observer, them snarling and growling and biting at each other like feral animals, but they’re having a blast and laugh right after and gently headbonk when it’s all done and cuddle after cooling down and play video games or smth

Epic is an astrophile

Some of his favorite dates are the stargazing ones or ones in Outertale

He has space themed clothes and outfits

When he and Papyrus were younger, Epic got stencils and threw buckets of ultraviolet paint on their bedroom walls to make glow in the dark galaxies and constellations

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Gamigin NSFW alphabet

Aftercare

what they're like after sex

Since most of the sex happens in the shower, aftercare is getting dryed off. He'll use his staff to heal any possible injuries the two of you might have gotten during the activity before you both fall asleep cuddling.

Body Part

their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner's

His favorite body part are his hands. He can heal people with them, what's not to love. His hands are so useful and he sometimes just stares at them with admiration. He also loves all his scars.

His favorite body part on you is your hair. He likes how it looks wet and how fluffy it gets once it's dry and how it feels on his fingers. When you cuddle, he constantly plays with your hair. It's his second favorite stim toy (the staff is the first)

Cum

anything to do with cum, basically

When he found out that you need devil energy to survive, he started masturbating more and putting his energy in bottles. He has a calender where he marks all the times you've needed energy and, if he's not free, he'll send you a bottle to keep you going until you meet. He spams you with messages the moment he has free desprately asking you if you took your "treatment" as he calls it.

Dirty secret

pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

He has no secrets, everything is public, especially to you. Being close to Gamigin means hearing all his brain farts. Whenever he has an idea for a possible sex session he just writes it to you and asks for feedback.

The wildest one that he still wishes he could do is to have sex in his dragon form. He might be small, but he can figure something out.

Experience

how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?

He's a virgin, he has no fucking clue what he's doing but he's having the time of his life. The first time he got an erection thinking about you he went to Lucifer and asked for a check up. After he got the talk from his dad brother he started reading biology books about it. He feels so proud when he comes up to you and states that he wishes to copulate with you.

Favorite position

this goes without saying

He likes positions where he can hug you easily. He loves cuddle sex in perticular because he gets to do two of his favorite things: cuddling and having sex with his favorite person. He doesn't have a preference for topping or bottoming so it's just a matter of the moment.

Goofy

are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous?

He's constantly cracking jokes during sex. He can't be too serious when he's with you. His favorite game is to try and come up with the weirdest yet sweetest nickname to use during sex. If anyone passed by the room you were making love in, they would hear shit like "You feel so good, my pention plan!" "That's it, my mitosis!"

Hair

how well groomed are they?

He doesn't shave and if you told him to he will whimper. He likes how his bush feels, let him have his fun. Might trim it, and complain grieve his lost hair, but he'll do it for you. He tryied waxxing once but Gamigin's scream could be heard from the other side of the country, so he never tried it a second time.

Intimacy

how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

He constantly kisses you, praise you, hugs you during sex. He makes sure that by the end of it you know that he loves you the most. No matter how exhausted he is after sex, he'll make sure to kiss you once on the cheek and whisper "I love you" in your ear. You never doupt Gamigin's love for you during those moments.

Jack Off

masturbation headcanons

He didn't use to get boners before starting to date you. He mostly masturbates to give you energy when he's too busy to have sex or when you're someplace else. He doesn't like jerking off because you're not there with him and it makes him feel lonely.

Kink

one or more of their kinks

Shower sex is the canon one, but I will like to add praise, hair pulling and dacryphilia. He loves you so he praise you a lot and being called a good boy makes him melt. He loves the texture of hair so he always has one hand wrapped in your hair, he also loves getting his haired pulled but not very roughly. He likes licking tears and your tears taste the best.

Location

favorite place to do the do

Somewhere where you can bathe together. Be it the shower or the lake, he likes being in wate with you. His second favorite place is in his cottage. He likes the calm atmosphere and the fact that ypu two can be as loud as possible.

Motivation

what turns them on, gets them going

There are times where he laughs so much when he's with you that he gets a boner. It's in the moments where you're having a lot of fun where he realises how much he adores you and the mere fact that he has someone that he can hang out with like you makes him aroused.

No

Something they wouldn't do, turn offs

Degredation. He loves you too much to say mean things about you and he will feel bad if you started calling him names during sex. He's also very against hurting you or getting hurt. He has a very important role, and he doesn't want to explain to Lucifer where he got cuts from. At most a bite here and there, but don't hit him too hard because he'll take it seriously.

Oral

preference in giving or recieving, skills, etc.

He likes to give since it's a way for him to show his love for you. He is quite sloppy and has no clue how to pleasure you with just his tongue, but he's putting his whole pussy into it. He asks Marbas later how it's done and he returns with far better skills. The most important part of Gamigin is that he is willing to learn.

If you were to give him head, he just busts in a minute. It feels so good???? And it's so wet and warm???? And he can hold your hair and you moan and it vibrates and- oh, he came. The next day he pampers you and thanks you for being the best.

Pace

are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?

He's all over the place. He would much rather you set the pace since he gets lost in the moment very fast. Even though he tries to be slow, he usually ends up humping you like a bitch in heat by the end of the session. The only way to make him slow down at that point is to flip him over or try to manhandle him, which is surprisingly easy. Even in the moments where he's lost in pleasure, he would never dare hurt a hair on your body.

Quickie

their opinions on quickies, how often

Since he gets exhausted by sex easily, he can't have a lot of quickies. He's the favorite child in the Paradise Lost found family, so Lucifer will give him a pass for not being on time for certain appointments, but he can't have his best doctor sleeping so often.

Risk

are they willing to experiment? Do they take risks?

He is! He sneaks into Marbas' room and steals some porn magasines for ideas. He doesn't find them arousing since they're not you, but he gets ideas for future sessions. He sees sex just like dates so he wants to try everything out with you. He sends you pictures of the pages he thinks you'd like and asks if you want to do it.

He's not even that scared of having public sex since 1. Everyone already can hear when you're having sex and 2. They would all coo at how cute you two love birds are. They might even stop by and give advice.

Stamina

how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

He can go for one round which, depending on how long the forplay was, lasts between 3-6 minutes. He's still getting used to this, so his stamina will improve over time, but as it is, he is very human in his preformance.

Toys

do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partener or themselves

When everyone in Paradise Lost found out that Gamigin wasn't a virgin anymore, Marbas gifted him a vibrator and told him how to use it. Gamigin tried to use it on you, but the sound and vibration felt very uncomfortable for him and he threw the toy away. Maybe he'll try a dildo or something, but no more vibrating things or he'll cry from how ichy it sounds.

Unfair

how much they like to tease

He doesn't. He will never tease you even if you're into it. He just can't act serious or mean around you. He once tried to be a hard dom and he couldn't even get through the first minute without bursting out laughing. "I bet you'd like to take a ride on my magic dragon (wheeze). Mc, I love you, but this isn't happening."

Volume

how loud are they? What sounds do they make?

He whimpers so much. He's loud and vocal all the time, but he tends to whimper and whine the most. He'll praise you through gasps and try to catch his breath as he's ingulfed in pleasure. When he cums he clings to you with all his strenght as he lets out the most pathetic moan imaginable. He giggles and pants while he recovers from the orgasm he just experienced.

Wildcard

a random headcanon for the character

He'll probably be very sad if you had sex with other people while in a relationship with him, unless it was someone from Paradise Lost. It's not sharing, per say, since you're not an object to be shared, but he'll start having doupts about himself if you started going to other devils for love. His brothers don't count because he trusts them to let you be afterwards.

X-ray

let's see what's going on under those clothes

I still haven't seen a penis, that hasn't changed. I think he's a more normal size though, like 10cm or something. You will not need hospitalisation after a round with him, thank God.

Also, all his underwear is blue, he is dedicated to the colour pallet.

Yearning

how high is their sex drive

He only starts having sexual thoughts about you once you become friends. His libido is all over the place. It usually spikes when you're away from him since he misses you. But I wouldn't really call it his libido, since he could very well be satisfied if you just hang out in the cottage. He strikes me as the type to forget about sex until his partner mentions it.

Zzz

how quickly they fall asleep afterwards

If you don't have sex in the shower, he falls asleep almost instantly after sex. He makes sure his scheduel is clear for the day before having fun with you since he knows he'll be sleepy afterwards. After sex he's also very clingy so he'll cry if you try to walk away from him.

[bloominheresy]

After being inspired by Kj's Band AU months back, I have decided to also throw my hat into the rink! (👉ﾟヮﾟ)👉

I only have Narinder and Leshy's streetwear designed so far, but anyways!! Lore drop time YYYYEAAAAH

An Eternal Vessel for a Voice AU ( Bishops ):

Legally recognized foster family, all used to live in one house until a few years prior to the current timeline

Shamura the eldest sibling, estimated 35 yrs old, is the founder of their own rapidly growing tech company. They used to be a super popular anonymous producer online but retired to pursue the challenge of technological innovations + support their siblings as the main breadwinner of the family

Kallamar (30-ish) used to work at a private clinic as a doctor and also supported the household, but has since parted from the household to watch over Heket

Heket at her early twenties is currently touring the lands and is a well-renowned vocalist known for her deep and powerful growls and control (think Ado!); doesn't want to return home just yet in order to heal from the rift caused by a certain event

Leshy (18) is still a high schooler on his last year; one of those 'stupidly smart without studying' type of kids who has too much free time on his hands and uses it to indulge himself in art and anime weeb stuff HAHAHA he got gifted a drawing tablet by Kallamar for his birthday and has been obsessed in exploring the art medium

Narinder (24) finished college a few years back, but a certain event made him a social shut-in for a while, taking care of the house now instead and being the only sibling Leshy loves to constantly annoy since Shamura often comes home late and barely has time to stay for the weekends. He has a great passion for music producing thanks to Shamura's influence growing up and has been using his spare time at home to hone his craft and post his work online

They all have social media accs Twitter Narinder and Leshy's mascots / pfps uses their crowns; Leshy is actually the artist for many of Narinder's album covers and music videos and is often seen bantering online on the TL even if they're literally in the same house most of the time 💀

This one is just self-indulgent and projecting but Narinder loathes the idea of socializing in order to collab with other online musicians so he forced himself to learn how to play the piano so that he could just use VSTs (virtual instruments) instead to cover all other parts his songs would need BWAHAHAHA ( I wish I knew how to play piano for the same reason :') )

Adding onto here some more Nari and Leshy-specific hcs:

Magic doesn't exist in this Modern AU, so Narinder's eyes are an olive green, and his third eye has been replaced with an oddly symmetrical scar he got from an accident years back

Leshy's social media handle (@chervx888_) is based on the romanized spelling of worm in Russian, while all the 8's are meant to represent a lot of eyes

Leshy has once bursted into Narinder's room, phone in hand, to proclaim with his volume turned up to eleven: "BRO, BABY GRONK JUST CALLED OUT THE RIZZLER TO FIGHT HIM IN THE BOXING RING"

Leshy is really REALLY nearsighted but refuses to wear the prescription glasses he was given since it looks "uncool" to his classmate friend group consisting of the Darkwood mini bosses

—

Be warned that I need to add another set of woody horns on Leshy to match his sprite... but. BUT- what if... the third set starts growing out or something later down the line.... (no clie, just add the third set instead doubling down)

Anyways, this AU is meant to reference popular JP entertainment media online! NicoDouga, Vtubers, Vocaloid, Utaites, JPop, and much more!

[ierofrnkk]

Many Moons Are Deep at Play

werewolf!Steven x reader (~3.1K)

Summary: Ever since you and Steven were attacked on the last night of your camping trip, he’s been different. Six months after the fact, you learn exactly how different he’s become.

Content: 18+, gn!reader, the other MK boys aren’t around (sorry), body horror, graphic description of a werewolf transformation, Steven is a werewolf, he’s in pain for like 400 words sorry, overuse of italics

a/n: does this count for monsterfucktober? who cares. the title is from ‘dark necessities’ by rhcp!

-

It’s been exactly six months, eight days, and fifteen hours since you and Steven barely made it back alive from that camping trip.

It was your idea; you suggested that this was the perfect time of year to go camping—the weather was incredible and honestly, the two of you needed a break from the city, even for a few days.

What a mistake that would turn out to be.

—

The first few days were great; the spot you two had picked to camp out was perfect, there was nobody around to bother the two of you—it was great.

The last night was when things went terribly, awfully wrong.

You and Steven had put out the fire for the night and were preparing for bed when you heard it. At first, you both thought it could’ve been a bear or perhaps a neighboring camper’s dog that had gotten loose, but you very quickly—and too late—realized that it was something much, much worse.

The beast had lunged at the two of you from beyond the clearing, cloaked in darkness beside the taunting, hopeful glow of the full moon. You two barely had time to react—you managed to just get knocked back by the sheer force of such a creature, but Steven was less lucky.

The thing had gotten the best of him, but only for a second before being startled and running off. It still left its mark on him—a nasty scratch that ran from the top of his shoulder down near the middle of his chest.

You both are lucky to have made it out of there with your lives—thankfully, Steven’s injury was no more than a flesh wound, and healed with little scarring. When law enforcement arrived at your aid, you had been told that there had been sightings of wolves in the area, and were told that this was just a ‘freak accident’ and that you two were ‘not in any more danger’.

It was a difficult few months after that; poor Steven, as skittish and anxious as he already had been, was a total mess after the incident. He was grateful to have you around, though, and you helped him to return to some sense of normalcy.

Things have been generally pretty normal, but once a month, Steven is…different.

It’s like for a few days, he’s less like himself—he’s more reckless, clingier, like he can’t tear himself away from you even for a second. He’s abandoned his veganism, too, which you’ve found most strange.

He’d given you some rushed, stilted response; something about how he’d gotten tired of tofu scrambles and veggie wraps. It was very unlike Steven, but he’d been through a lot, so you’d forgiven it.

There’s a lot more steak in your fridge than you thought you’d ever have.

One day a month, though, he goes away overnight—tells you that some of his mates invite him over to have dinner and play some games, and you let him. He never tells you which friends he’s with, or where he goes.

A part of you thinks he’s lying.

He comes back all disheveled the morning after, a bit worse for wear, but he always insists that it’s just because he and the boys got a little wild the previous night.

It all doesn’t add up. You figure he’s just going through some kind of crisis in the aftermath of such a horrific attack.

But after months of this same routine, you’re fed up—it’s been too long of him lying and dancing around questions, skirting away from giving you any sort of solid, definitive answer.

“I’m coming with you tonight,” you tell him as the two of you sit on the couch together, spending time before he vanishes overnight.

He looks at you like he’s seen a ghost.

“No! No, you—love, it’s not—there’s nothing for you to worry about. Promise.”

You’re not convinced.

“I am worried, and I’m going to come with you. I don’t care what your friends say.”

He’s flustered now, nervous and looking like he’s trying to find an escape route to get out of this conversation. A part of you feels guilty for pressing him like this, but you need to know.

After what feels like an eternity of Steven struggling to find the right words to say, give some decent response to what you’re suggesting, he speaks up, voice soft.

“You can’t come with me, love.”

You make a face. You never knew Steven to be so insistent that you stay away from him, even if it’s overnight. So, you give him an ultimatum.

“Fine. If I can’t come with you, then stay home.”

He makes it seem as if that’s the worse option of the two, but he knows that you’ve got him backed into a corner. Either let you come with him, or stay at home.

That seems to have gotten through to him, and he nods, resigned. It was inevitable that you found out, and he knows that he’s damned no matter what he chooses.

“I’ll stay home, but we have to talk about this, yeah?”

You nod right away. Finally, you’re getting somewhere with him, so you’ll take whatever you can get.

He shifts in his seat beside you, suddenly feeling awkward and much more nervous about having such a conversation, but he eventually speaks up.

“After what happened to us a few months ago, I’ve been…different.”

No shit, you think. He continues, fidgeting.

“At first, I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I thought I’d just gone mental, yeah? But I didn’t. Something, er, worse happened.”

Your brows knit together in confusion, and you’re immediately able to tell that he’s stalling. Playing with his words and trying to put off this inevitable confession. You need him to tell you.

“Steven, just tell me.” You interject, tone a bit more firm than it usually is.

He tenses, and immediately blurts out the confession like the words burned in his throat.

“I’mawerewolf.”

What?

The words were rushed, all jumbled together but it was so obvious what he’d just said. You can’t believe it.

“Say again?” You ask, desperate for clarification.

His face is flushed red with embarrassment, and he can’t meet your gaze anymore—he’s awful at this, but he eventually gathers the nerve to repeat himself.

“I’m a…werewolf,” he cringes at the word, hating the way it sounds from his mouth. To further elaborate, he gestures vaguely in the direction of the window, where the sun has set and tonight’s full moon has begun to rise.

“You know; full moon, lycanthropy and all.” He makes a sad, awkward little howl noise, probably in some attempt to be funny or lighten the mood.

You stare at him, dumbfounded.

Unfortunately, it all makes too much sense.

The “wolf” attack, the disappearances once a month, the sudden change in his appetite.

Steven’s a werewolf.

The glow of the moon through the window is suddenly much less comforting. You realize he doesn’t have a lot of time before he’s unrecognizable.

“I go out to the woods every month,” he starts again after a beat of silence.

“I don’t want to hurt anybody. Don’t want to hurt you.”

You feel the guilt burn in your throat—that’s why he’s been so flighty, hiding away from you every month.

You don’t even have anything to say. What can you say to something like that?

You aren’t given much time to dwell on your thoughts before Steven doubles over in pain before you, and immediately all of your senses go on high alert.

“Oh fuck, Steven, are you okay?”

It’s a stupid question. Obviously, he isn’t.

You wish there was something you could do, but you don’t exactly know the protocol for what to do when your boyfriend starts turning into a werewolf.

“Fine! Fine, just—ah-“ he grimaces in pain, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

You give him as much time as he needs, and he manages to get a few words out through his pain.

“Put away anything fragile—ah, fuck—please. I can’t-“ he doesn’t finish his thought, dropping to his knees from where he’d sat on the couch, and your heart aches for him.

After a few seconds of standing dumbly in place, you move with nervous speed, grabbing anything immediately fragile—glassware, the framed photo of the two of you in Cairo, anything breakable—and toss it all onto your bed, before shutting and locking the door.

By the time you return, Steven’s gotten rid of his clothes, and it’s the least of your concerns.

“I don’t want you in here when I—“ he cries out in pain, and your heart aches for him.

He doesn’t want you in the room with him when he turns.

You nod unsteadily, trying to wrap your head around this situation. An hour ago you figured that he might’ve been hiding something from you, but you never had thought that it’d be something like this.

Even though he’s warned you, you can’t take your eyes away from him.

The first thing that changes are his hands; his nails elongate into what you can only describe as claws—sharp and deadly.

You keep a safe distance.

With a pained shout, he arches back, and you bear witness to the grotesque sight—and sound—of his breastbone and ribcage cracking and stretching, expanding his chest to better accommodate the anatomy of a wolf.

It’s killing you to see Steven—your Steven—hurting and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it.

His canines stretch and sharpen into points. You back away from the living room.

You watch as he falls forward, leaning on his hands and knees; his back arches, his spine cracking and popping as his entire form is rearranged.

The sounds of his bones and joints cracking and shifting are awful enough on their own, but combined with the sound of Steven’s cries and shouts in agony, it’s that much worse.

His joints are rearranging, moving and grinding against one another. It’s grotesque and horrible, and you can’t believe that this is what Steven goes through every month.

It’s awful, and it gets worse when you see the way his face distorts, his nose and his cheekbones cracking horribly as his face stretches into something more canine than human.

It doesn’t take long until he’s completely unrecognizable. A hound; a werewolf.

You stand a fair distance from the creature that used to be your boyfriend, watching as the beast paces around your living room, sniffling and snarling as it takes in its surroundings.

“Steven..” you murmur, and the beast turns in your direction.

You can see Steven’s eyes, deep and brown—and even as unrecognizable as he is in this state, you still know that this is your Steven.

Against your better judgment, you step closer, treading softly and praying that he remembers you.

The wolf’s ears flatten against his head, and it takes a cautious step backward. It—he—growls, something low in his throat. Not quite a threat, but a warning. You can’t tell if it’s out of anger or fear.

He looks like a wolf, but bigger. You don’t know if that scares or excites you.

Every alarm bell in the back of your mind is blaring, telling you to run, get out of there, but you can’t. Not when you know that the wolf in front of you was your boyfriend a handful of minutes ago.

Slowly and carefully, you lower to your knees—you vaguely remember a documentary you and Steven had watched about wolves, how if you approach them on their level, they’d be less inclined to attack you. They’d be less threatened.

The wolf steps forward cautiously, sniffing the air in front of you as it tries to determine if you’re a friend or its next meal. It takes another step forward, and you put your hand out—palm facing upward—in front of it.

Those deep brown eyes you recognize so fondly as Steven’s never leave yours as the wolf sniffs your palm, its nose nudging your fingers as it does its best to understand who you are.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding when it presses its nose against your hand, a large, warm tongue swiping across your fingers.

He remembers you.

“Steven,” you breathe, and he huffs in response.

You move your hand carefully across the wolf’s snout, brushing your fingers over the fur on the top of its head gently.

You’re petting your boyfriend like you would a dog at the shelter.

The wolf takes another step forward, and you can see more of Steven in its eyes; that care, the affection, it’s all still there, just expressed differently.

He’s a lot bigger up close, definitely larger than any dog you’d ever seen, and that’s more obvious when the muzzle of the dog (if you can even call it that) nudges against the side of your head, then under your jaw. You can hear the way he sniffs and huffs as he takes in your scent.

Your hand slides from the top of his head down behind his ears, and you’re able to feel how soft his fur is. It’s dark, dark brown, much like Steven’s own hair color.

My boyfriend’s a werewolf, you think. Yeah, no big deal. I can roll with this.

You scratch behind his ears briefly, before you let your hands trail across more of that soft fur. With every pass of your hands, you can feel the strong beat of his heart, the way his chest expands with every breath.

After he’s gotten a good idea of your scent, he nuzzles against you for a few more moments. You can’t deny that the feeling is nice, like subconsciously, you know that it’s him.

You continue to pet him, before he shifts, and lays across your lap, putting all of his weight on you.

It doesn’t surprise you at all that Steven’s werewolf form is as much of a cuddler as he is. He’s warm, impressively so, and you take the tranquility of this moment to truly process the way this evening has gone so far.

Steven’s a werewolf. That night six months ago when you were attacked, he’d gotten scratched by what you can only assume was another werewolf, and that was all it took.

You resume brushing your hand across his fur, wondering what happened in your life to bring you to this point—sitting on your living room floor while Steven’s oversized werewolf form lays across your legs like some big lap dog.

Most of the night passes the same way, with the wolf curled up as best as it can in your lap, until you move him off of you when your legs fall asleep. There’s no complaint, though, and he settles down on the floor right in front of you, going right back to sleep.

Much to your surprise, nothing was broken like he thought when he told you to hide away anything fragile, and the two of you end up falling asleep on the living room floor.

—

When you wake up the next morning, Steven’s back to himself. You take this time before he wakes up to take in the sight of him now, and mentally compare it to the way he looked last night.

You drag your hand lightly down his bare back, fingers tracing his spine, remembering the feel of his thick fur beneath your touch. He stirs, so you retract your hand, allowing him to wake up on his own.

He does, turning and stretching as he comes out of sleep, sitting up to get himself more awake.

Before things can get awkward, you grab the blanket that rests on the back of the couch, pulling it down to cover his lap, since his clothes lay in a haphazard pile on the other side of the room.

He turns to you, a sheepish grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you.

“Hiya, love,” he murmurs, voice soft and still thick with sleep.

“Sorry about…everything.” He gestures to himself, before letting his hand fall lamely back to his lap.

You shake your head, moving so that your head rests on his shoulder, now sitting beside him as the two of you wake up in the aftermath of an interesting and unexpected evening.

“It wasn’t as bad as you probably thought it’d be.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you, dumbfounded.

It’s only then that it dawns on you that he might not remember everything that happens when he’s turned, so you fill him in.

You recount the events of the previous night to him, from witnessing his transformation to the way his wolf had cuddled and nuzzled against you for most of the night until you fell asleep.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t—“ he shifts, keeping the blanket across his lap.

“—didn’t know that I’d been such a lap dog.”

He says the words sarcastically, in that self-deprecating tone that you always associate with Steven.

You take it in stride, chucking softly.

“Oh, yeah, total pooch,” you tease.

“We even played fetch at one point.”

He flushes a bright red, the color bleeding down his neck, and you swear you can hear the way that his heart rate skyrockets.

“Shut up.”

After a few beats, you speak up, voice a bit softer and more sincere.

“You go through that every month?”

He pauses, eyes falling to the blanket in his lap, hands fidgeting with the fabric. He nods, taking a slow breath.

“Not really a good way to spend the evening, is it?”

You both chuckle softly, taking this quiet morning to become accustomed to what very well might be a new routine for the two of you.

“You were pretty calm, all things considered.”

He hums, nuzzling against the side of your face as you speak. You can’t help but make the mental connection between the way he did that same gesture as a wolf last night.

“Maybe you should just stay here when you..y’know. Turn.”

You can feel him pause for a moment, thinking, but after a few seconds, he resumes his nuzzling against your jaw and neck.

“I don’t want to put that responsibility on you,” he murmurs, tone low.

You shrug, bringing a hand up to card gently through his curls. You remember the texture of his fur beneath your fingers.

“I didn’t mind it all too much. It’s not like you tore up the apartment or anything,” you gesture around, his lack of destruction apparent.

You can feel the way he grins shyly against your skin, and your hand continues to brush through his hair.

“Thank you,” he hums sleepily, breath warm against you as he speaks.

You’re definitely not opposed to one morning a month turning out this way.

tags: @winniethewife , @faretheeoscar , @silvernight-m

[portgasdwrld]

Hello, Tomie! Are requests still open? I got the cutest fluff idea and I think you're the best writer for the job because you really write the characters so well.

Cold/stoic OP boys reacting to an S/O who MUST always stop to pet, feed, and photograph every cat on the street? Maybe Smoker, Zoro, and Law.

🍃Hey sweetheart!! Thank you for sending this ask! I love the idea so much and thanks for the support!! I hope you like it 🪽

🥝 Op men + cat lover reader

Featuring: Zoro, Law, Smoker

Warning: None, fluff, established relationship for Zoro & Law. GN! Reader

Zoro

Zoro stares at you as you stopped for the third time today to pet a black kitten this time. He doesn’t see the appeal & doesn’t understand why you love cats so much. He looks around making sure you two are still out of any enemy attack, before he approaches you. He gasps a little when he sees you open your bag to feed the animal with some treats specially made for them.

-Do you just walk around hoping to fall on a cat?

He asks in his usual stern voice. You look over your shoulder and laugh when the realization hits. You couldn’t help but soften, faced to those adorable animals. You would take them all on the ship with you if you could.

-I do be giving this impression, huh?

-Yeah,… you really seem to like them.

-They are so cute don’t you think??

You exclaim while picking up the cat in your hands and showing it to him. He furrows his eyebrows, before looking away uninterested.

-Nah, don’t get it.

-You’re always so grumpy, a bit like a cat.

-Are you comparing me to that thing??

-A thing?? It’s so cuteee!! Look! It even has a scar on its eye just like you! What are the odds!

Zoro’s cheeks slightly flush embarrassed by your comparison, while the cat and him stare at each other. He scoffs as your words ring in his head. He doesn’t see the ressemblance and doesn’t want to. A pirate like him looking like a kitten? You must be out of your mind.

-Let’s go, the others are waiting.

He says quicken up his pace as he walks away from you, still flustered. He hears your laugh echo again and soon after, your arms wrap around his as you look at him with big eyes.

-Do you think the cat is a fighter too?

He gives you a bit of a side eye wondering where you find those type of questions. He shrugs his shoulders as a smirk cover his face.

-He must be the strongest, if so.

Maybe he will consider making space for a cat in your shared cabin, maybe…

Law

Law sighs as he sees you once again bend down to pet a cat. He’s always a bit in a hurry as he’s a busy man, in his words. So he does find it inconvenient that you have this habit. The crew is walking not too far behind and he hopes to not waste any more time in this village after buying everything they needed.

-Are you done?

He asks softly, but it still comes off with an annoyed undertone and his stoic facial expression doesn’t help. You straighten your back as you give him a bit of his attitude back.

-Nah

You retort while putting your tongue out and hugging the cat in your arms.

-The cat has an ear missing..They need a doctor!

Laws mouth stays open for a little a bit speechless. He cocks an eyebrow as he looks at you.

-It’s a stray cat, they are made strong.

-Pfff, not very doctor of you, Trafalgar.

You reply while scrunching a little your nose unsatisfied with his answer. Law rubs the bridge of his nose, before getting a better look of the cat.

-Im a doctor for humans …. The ears seems like an old scar that have already been healed, so don’t worry.

He adds as he notices your uneasy expression. You smile and ruffle with the tip of your finger the fur on top of the cat’s head, happy with the news. You thank him, before letting the cat go.

-Stay safe~

You say to the cat with caring eye as you watch it walk away. Law watches with a fond smile. You take his hand and with the crew, you make your way back home.

Smoker

He exhales a cloud of smoke as he cocks an eyebrow to you petting a cat that crossed by you two.

-Isn’t it so cute!!

You exclaim with an excited expression as you focus on the small creature in front of you. You reach for your bag where you find your camera and click couple of pictures.

-What are you doing? We are wasting time.

-Im taking pictures for souvenirs!

-Of cats ?

He retorts, lowkey judging you. He thinks the behaviour is a little childish, especially when you two needs to be attentive at all time for any pirates that can cause trouble. But here you are, taking pictures of cats and petting them.

-Yeah, why not? Want me to take some of you?

You say with a teasing smirk and you stare at him this time. The man blushes a little flustered and shakes his head.

- This isn’t very professional.

-Ohh, relaaax. If some idiots want to cause trouble we don’t need to worry if you are here right ?

-U-uh yeah…

-All cool then~

You conclude with a cocky smile, satisfied as you pet another cat under the man’s confused eyes.

[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 9

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Author’s Note: I have a few fic ideas that would be set when the reader first gets to the Night Court. I also have more Azriel imagines planned that wouldn't be in this series so look out for those! Thank you so much for all of the comments and love on this story, I appreciate it more than you know! <33

Summary: After months of healing, there is still something weighing you down and Azriel wants nothing more than to help you.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: bad body image, nudity but not straight up smut, let me know if I need to add any others :)

A few months had passed since everything happened and you were feeling better for the most part. Azriel had more than proved himself and you two were best friends again. You now trained with the Valkyries and enjoyed their company. You had also been helping Amren out with translating old texts a lot lately.

You enjoyed having work to do, you started to feel like your old self again. But there were still a few things that gnawed at you.

The main thing were the scars. The physical reminder of what you went through weighed you down. You covered yourself up as much as you could everyday so no one else saw them.

This seemed to be working for you until one day, Azriel came up to you with a big smirk on his face.

"I got you a present!" the still smirking male told you

"How many times do I have to tell you? Stop buying me presents!" you told him

You had never received so many presents in your life and you doubt he has ever given this many. It started out small like bringing you a coffee while you worked, then he would buy you little things here and there like a notebook for your research. Eventually, he was buying you more expensive things like jewelry every other day.

Every time you would tell him you didn't need anything, and every time he responded with the same thing - "I can't help myself, I saw it and thought of you"

The butterflies you would feel were always better than the gifts.

Amren was sitting beside you watching the interaction with a smirk on her face.

"Hmm? A chocolate croissant this morning and now another surprise? Two in one day? Seems like a new record." she spoke in a slightly joking tone, enjoying poking fun at the spymaster

You and Az made eye contact and quickly looked away, a slight blush taking over both of your faces.

After his confession all those months ago, you both began to try and be friends again. You knew he was waiting for you to be ready for more but you weren't sure how to go about it all. It was easier to push those thoughts away for now.

Deciding to help the shadowsinger escape all the joking, you stood up to go to him. He held his hand out to you, and led you up to your room. Before entering, he put his hands over your eyes, using them as a blind fold.

"Is this really necessary?" you giggled

"Of course it is! Now walk forward" he told you and you could hear the smile in his voice

You walked, well shuffled, into your room with him close behind you. He started a countdown.

"3...2...1...Open!" he shouted, removing his hands

On the wall in front of your bed was a brand new mirror. Dread filled your body. The thought of having to see yourself every time you changed made you want to vomit.

Azriel of course noticed the reaction and immediately began to worry.

"What's wrong? You don't like it? I knew it was stupid, Cass helped me pick it out and he has the worst taste." Az babbled on.

"No, I love it." You told him. If you let him know you didn't want it, then he would want to know the real reason. You couldn't explain it all to him right now.

He gave you a look that showed he didn't fully believe you but he decided to let it go.

You gave him a hug and thanked him for it. It truly was a beautiful mirror. It was huge and had the most detailed golden flowers all around it. Perhaps you could focus on that and not the nasty marks that littered your body.

Night time came faster than you would have liked and the thought of changing in front of the mirror seemed like too much. You knew you needed to do this, another step in the healing process.

Eventually you made your way up to your room and began to get ready for bed.

You started to peel off your clothes from the day, breathing through each piece that came off. Once you were fully naked you couldn't take your eyes off of your body.

How would anyone be able to find you beautiful when you looked like this? You wrapped your arms around your stomach as tears sprung to your eyes. You began to softly cry.

Suddenly, you saw movement in the mirror behind you. You lifted your head until you were making eye contact with Azriel through the mirror.

Shadows shot out to cover you, helping you keep your modesty.

"What's wrong, my love?" He asked

The name only made you shudder, knowing he wouldn't call you that after seeing your body.

"I'm hideous. My body doesn't even look like its mine anymore." you voice cracked

His heart broke for you, and he ached to hold you.

"Can I come closer?" He asked

You nodded and he walked until he was behind you, so close you could feel his chest as he took a breath.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." He stated and laid his hands on your shoulders, moving them down your arm until they rested on top of your hands. He laced his fingers with yours and kissed the back of your head.

"You haven't even truly seen me to know that." you said

"I don't need to see you to know that it is true. But if you think that, then show me." he stated

"What?" you couldn't believe your ears.

"If you're comfortable, let me see." he spoke confidently

You nodded and let him know it was ok to remove the shadows. He bent down and placed a light kiss on your shoulder, right on one of the marks, then on another right next to it.

Slowly the shadows pulled away from your body and you were left compeltely naked. He was staring at your body through the mirror, in awe of you.

He walked til he was standing in front of you.

"Just tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable." He whispered

You nodded and he got even closer. He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed a scar on your palm. Then moved to the other arm and kissed a scar by your elbow. He got down on his knees and looked up at you through his lashes.

"Beautiful" he said right before kissing a rather large scar on your stomach.

He didn't stop until he kissed every mark and scar on your body. He stood up and took your face in his hands.

"Yep, its just as I thought, you are the most beautiful being that I have ever seen." He spoke as he leaned down to your face

"But I'm broken, these scare are proof" you cried

"These scars are proof of your strength. When I look at you, I don't see anything broken. I see the the love of my life. I see intelligence, kindness, power... I see my mate." he confessed

You inhaled sharply and were confused until you felt it too. A tiny pull on your chest as if someone was tugging a string attached to you.

"You're my mate," he smiled then stopped himself, "I found out when Lucien carried you through the doors and none of us knew if you were even alive. I didn't want to tell you because of everything going on and I wanted to earn your love, didn't want you to feel pressured into anything."

You were so shocked, you still hadn't spoken. In a way, you were glad he kept it from you. If you had known he was your mate you aren't sure what you would've done. All of the trauma you went through must've stopped you from feeling it too.

"I understand if you don't want to accept it. After everything I did-" he started but you immediately shut down that thought

"You have more than proven yourself to me Az. You are my mate and there is nothing that could change that" You told him.

He growled softly when you called him your mate.

You both continued smiling at each other, wrapped in each other's arms.

"If you'll let me, I'd like to continue worshipping you for the rest of the night." he purred.

"It's only fair, you did say you loved groveling" you whispered and he smiled and leaned in.

"Wait!" you quickly said placing a hand on his chest.

He looked confused but you ran over to your bedside table and grabbed the chocolate croissant he had gotten you earlier. You handed it to Az with a smile.

"Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?" he questioned

"It is the only thing I have been certain of in a long time." you responded and he ate some of the pastry.

He set the food down and put one of his hands on your waist, the other on your neck. Slowly he leaned in and placed a soft and gentle kiss on your lips. You wrapped your hands in his hair and pulled him down for a much longer, more passionate one and he grunted into your mouth.

The frenzy quickly kicked in and Azriel ended up worshipping your body for the next couple of days.

You still weren't fully healed and you probably wouldn't be for a while but that was okay because you had Azriel and the rest of your family to help you get there.

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