#natural alternatives to hair relaxers

[blackgirlslivingwell]

Naturals Are Relaxing Their Hair? The Dangers of Chemical Relaxers

Chemical relaxers are making a comeback. Let me remind you of how harmful they are.

[artyandink]

where CLARK becomes obsessed with eating CINNAMON.ᐟGIRL’S pussy in a week.

DAY ONE.ᐟ

It wasn’t even a thought at first, with his track record with girls he wanted to take it slow so he knew it was a safe bet to fall head over heels for your pretty ass. Most he thought about was kissing your permanently balmed lips, kissing your cheeks, admiring your smile, playing with the folds of your clothing and how you always smelled like cinnamon.

An innocent thought.

And now, the end of the school day. When Clark could just come home, say hi to his mom and dad, then head up to the barn where he knew his girl would be waiting. And sure enough, as he jogged up the stairs to the top of the barn, there you were, readily waiting, dressed in your usual little baggy-looking top with the poofy sleeves that he didn’t know the name of — wait, it was a bustier top, as you’ve reminded him — with a little white skirt, a bow in your hair, bows on your gorgeous stockings with your lace-ups abandoned by the side of the bed.

Gorgeous.

But you were also working on the bio homework you’d got that day, so he raised an eyebrow, chucked his bag onto the bed and instantly got on to hug you to him and nuzzle your neck. “Clark!” You giggled, squealing and swatting his shoulder before your lips were caught up in his, hand resting gently on your cheek.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you started without me.” He pouted, pulling back to look at you with puppy eyes, but a peck from you earned his winning smile again. “C’mon, what are we lookin’ at?” He shifted you so you were on his lap, chest against his back, inhaling that natural scent of spice and sugar syrup from cinnamon buns.

You tapped the page with your pen, relaxing into it and beginning to explain the task, but something else caught his eye. It was a small thing, but he saw a flash of something, it was— it was white, and lacy, and he could see it from under your skirt—

Oh, God, your panties.

He had to drag his eyes away from the magnetic pull they had to that small glimpse of lace, casually sliding his hand up your outer thigh to push your skirt over that little sliver of white lace, that… tantalising view, there— God forbid your dignity be jeopardised if someone came up here.

Whew. Crisis averted.

DAY TWO.ᐟ

Crisis #2 was due soon — because obviously, no one could give him a damn break — when he was helping you tie up this pretty lil’ pair of heels you’d bought that were tied up by a ribbon. His fingers glided across your smooth skin as he wrapped the soft fabric around your ankle delicately, and it wasn’t until he gave you a gentle smile from below did he see up your skirt, and he nearly felt his heat vision activate from the sight.

Your choice of clothing was always so sexy, the pink lace that looked like a scrap on your skin, your supple thighs that he just wanted to— ay, woah, stop there. His thoughts screeched to a halt, and he sufficed that train of thought with a delicate press of his lips to your ankle when he’d made the bow to tie the last shoe and the whole ensemble together.

Why did his head feel kind of fuzzy?

There y’are.” He grinned, taking your hand and brushing his lips over your knuckle— your own Prince Charming, it gave you butterflies. Honestly? His head felt kinda heavy as he stood up and planted a gentle kiss to your lips— see, totally innocent. Totally, no alternate story or subconscious thought here.

DAY THREE.ᐟ

This felt wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

Something as simple as sitting and chatting with Lana and Chloe— you were sitting with your legs spread, skirt hiked up enough, your amiable look between him and the other three doing absolutely nothing to stop him feeling drunk on the position you were in.

Maybe if the others weren’t here, he could kiss up your legs, starting from your ankle. Why was he thinking all this— to combat it, he just gently tapped your foot with his, and you happily climbed onto his lap, legs around his waist and arms around his neck like you were a koala with a giggle.

He let put a sigh of relief, taking one for the team as he stroked your hair, inhaled your natural scent and took one for the team by taking the brunt force of all the good-natured ribbing from Lana and Chloe. All while his brain pumped oxygen back into it and made him stop feeling so goddamn light and airy just by seeing how you were seated, it felt so strange.

“Lovebirds.”

“I hear wedding bells!”

“Shut up, guys.” Clark’s jab wasn’t only to himself, it was to the rest of him which thought that being permanently brain dead around you was a good idea. God, this was not normal at all.

DAY FOUR.ᐟ

Clark found himself to be thirstier than usual. Literally, and figuratively.

He’d be hanging out with you, watching a movie, and when you did something like bite your lip or your skirt would hike up a little, he would mutter an excuse to go get water— not really an excuse, his mouth felt like it was two Saharas in one mouth. Glass after glass, and you’d seen him return after his fifth, which came with the mental reminder to lecture himself to not pop a boner. He had more control over his… anatomy!

Even with all the tall and endless glasses of water, something felt missing.

He went with you to the Talon to get lunch, and as he was sharing an apple pie with you, he couldn’t help but think his sweet taste buds weren’t satiated, and even as he looked up, his eyes got stuck on your pretty legs, where your skirt ended at your mid-thigh, and all you’d do was tilt his chin up and kiss him softly with a giggle, oblivious.

Oh, dear Lord, what was happening to him?

He was licking his lips more often, and his brain was more adept and conjuring thoughts of having you straddling something that was not his hips, or having you laid down on the couch and hearing pretty sounds come from you that he’d only heard when his mom and dad got too loud or when his mom and dad were watching an adult movie.

Guess Martha and Jonathan might be the common denominator.

Even so, he forced himself to avert his eyes when you bent over the table to give Lana and Chloe their coffees, your skirt lifting up just that bit— oh, mama, just drink the water, drink the water.

“Hi.” You giggled, perching yourself on his lap, and things would’ve been totally fine had his hand not autocorrected to find your ass— nope, he instantly moved it up to the small of your back and kissed your cunt cheek. He meant cheek, he wasn’t thinking about anything else, who ever— nobody— his brain was gonna shut up now.

His jaw clenched briefly, and he swallowed, deciding to give the farm boy smile like nothing was raging inside of his brain and peck your pouty, cinnamon-stained lips, fingers brushing across your soft cheek. “Hey, there. One’a those for me?” He’d been getting into cinnamon lattes now that you’d introduced him to them, so you were holding two piping hot cinnamon lattes that he looked down to.

And as he looked down, he could see your perfect thighs, and contrary to his drying mouth, he now had too much saliva in them.

He swallowed. Shit.

DAY FIVE.ᐟ

“Oh, my God, shit—” Clark couldn’t think straight, his nerve endings on fire, cause it felt so damn good, it felt so, so— he had no words. All he knew was that his eyes were rolling back, his mouth was open, his cock was most definitely leaking, and if his parents came up here they’d be very concerned.

He panted, the veins in his neck popping as his jaw clenched and a strangled grunt broke past his sealed lips, along with a needy whine. “O—Oh, sweetheart, that’s— don’t you stop, ok? Don’t you stop.”

He was getting images as his free hand clenched in the sheets, images he’d never had before until this week, of peeling your panties off your soaked pussy like they were the bow to your sweet present, of rubbing his nose against your clit as he gripped your spread thighs (or they’d be over his shoulders, he was not fussed at all) and lapping at you, licking you and letting his tongue delve and taste every bit of you until you could no longer comprehend that the outside world exists.

Judging by how much cinnamon you had, your cunt would probably be sweeter than your mouth. Just his luck that he’s got a tooth for that.

He tightly clamped his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle any sounds, but that didn’t work, it slipped out due to a shuddering gasp that shook his very lungs, your mouth— no, his hand, you weren’t here right now, his hand moving up and down his cock, which felt extra sensitive today.

Well, of course it felt extra sensitive, he’d practically been accidentally edged all day by your gorgeous ass when you sat back to his chest and way too high up his lap during the study session at the Talon, and so he’d shimmied you down to stop a moan from leaving his mouth.

Even as he moaned, he licked his lips and swallowed, like he was tasting something above him— oh, god, your pussy. It was so pretty, he knew that from the times he’d gotten his fingers there to soothe you after a bad day or when your brain wasn’t working on hard homework and just needed a reset. But he’d never tasted it or anything, he’d just wiped them on a tissue, and now it was the one thing — oh, God, just stop, this was objectifying, and Clark was a strong believer in a woman’s privacy.

“Sh—Shit—” He wanted to lick his fingers from now on, not waste a single drop of you, and that thought was the thing which sent him into a white hot fucking orgasm, head falling back against the pillows as he quickly caught the come that came from his cock with a tissue, panting and revelling in the ignorance and pure bliss that came before the reality that he just objectified his girlfriend.

He knew better, and you were so darling to him, he couldn’t. He should stop.

Your pussy—

DAY SIX.ᐟ

Was Clark on top of you, no shirt, forearm braced beside your head and lips attached to your neck a hot sight?

Yes.

It was a sight that made your thighs rub together despite yourself, and you couldn’t really ignore the growing ache growing inside you, along with the slight throb in your clit at the repeated, open-mouthed presses to your neck, jaw and behind your ear. His hands were on your waist, your hips, over your tits and thighs, then moved to the buttons of your cardigan, pulling back to look at you.

Eye contact was big with him.

“Can I?” He murmured, and when you nodded, he slipped the buttons off and gently took off your camisole, coming face to face with no bra. A small grin flickered across his lips as he looked up to you, head dipping down to kiss over your tits and briefly suck then into his mouth, pressing small, worshipping pecks which had you moaning softly, fingers threading through his hair.

The quiet whimpers that came from your mouth could only be frowned out by one thing— his mind repeating the word pussy and his body rewriting like it was the one thing he couldn’t live without. “Need to try somethin’, pretty, but you can tell me t’ stop, at any time.” He murmured, kissing your stomach gently.

You ran the possibilities in your upstairs brain, but your downstairs brain had the reins right now. “Yeah,” you mumbled in response, stomach flexing under his lips — ugh, so hot — as they slowly travelled downward, his fingers skimming down your sides to gently undo your sweats and hook his finger in your sweats and panties’ waistband, pulling them down and off your legs.

The wait to it was excruciating, he’d checked to see if you were wet as a sign that yes, you were enjoying this (which you were, you were soaking), and if the butterfly kisses were doing anything, they were making you impatient rather than easing you into it. “Clark, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay! I’ve got you,” He chuckled, then started with it. He began in slow, languid strokes, tongue flat and gathering all the taste of you on his tongue that instantly hit his taste buds— oh, my.

Oh, Lord.

The taste was heavenly, it was ambrosia, it was salvation, so much that he was already moaning at the taste and pulling you closer by how his strong arms were wrapped around your plush thighs, biceps flexing to the delight of your eyes from further up the bed, grinding against the mattress. Not to mention how he’d turned from hesitant to slow, burning, devouring in half a second, drawing the pretty moans from you that’d plagued his head the whole week.

The whole thing was new to you— you were a virgin, and you’d certainly never had anyone go down on you before, so Clark’s tongue between your legs had first been something that your body wanted to jump away from on reflex. But when said tongue slid into your pussy?

You could’ve died and gone to hell right there.

Jonathan and Martha (our famous common denominators) would’ve been traumatised by the obscene noises coming from you both, the groans and murmurs of encouragement from Clark to “keep it comin’”, about how you were “doin’ so well” and how you “tasted s’good”, all things that made you moan, gasp and whimper — now in that order — add a sprinkling of whines when his nose bumped your clit.

All he could think of was pussy, pussy, pussy, the pads of his fingers digging into your hips and thighs slightly, aiming to bury himself down there and suffocate if need be with your thighs pressed around his ears— it’d be a good way to go, now that he thought about it. A great way to go, abandoning all homework, your softness the only thing he could feel, your sweet taste… on his tongue…

Ok, his rational brain would be right back, after a long break.

“Cl—Clark!” You whimpered, hand tightening in his hair, the other making a fist beside your head, back arching, brow furrowing in bliss. It was such a gorgeous gasp of his name, the only thing he could give back to you was a needy whine. That’s right, needy.

He’d become an expert between three licks, his superhearing picking up on the small cues, the little tremble, the difference in this gasp and that gasp, until he felt you come on his tongue with a cry of his name and a loud whine, quickly sucking all of what you offered him up like his mom’s cooking. But sweeter.

As for him? If you weren’t too delirious from the new feeling, you would’ve seen a telltale stain of how he came in his pants— he couldn’t help it! You’d felt too good, his brain had fuzzed over, he’d ground against the mattress, there was no way he wasn’t getting off to you getting off.

”You did so well, pretty,” He grinned, lips and chin covered in you, the word pussy still ringing in his brain as he collected it all with his thumb and sucked it off, closing his eyes at the taste and moaning before leaning up to kiss you gently.

Only then did you taste yourself on his tongue— and you kind of saw the hype, what with how sweet it was, and even though it felt kind of weird to taste yourself, it was Clark. You trusted Clark.

He pulled away, grinning a saliva-lipped, winning smile and rubbing your bottom lip with his thumb, kissing your nose. “You ok, sweetheart? I didn’t hurt you?”

“No.” You shook your head, voice quiet, still in a bit of a daze— oh, his pretty baby. That earned you a kiss to your forehead, and before you knew it, he was creeping off and coming back with a warm, damp rag.

“Let’s just get you comfy— attagirl,” He mumbled as he gently got you more comfortable on the pillows with his farm boy strength (or so you thought), shushing the whine of sensitivity when your thighs rubbed together. “Shh, baby, I know, I know, we’ll get y’cleaned up.”

Still keeping you pacified with a stroke of your hair or a peck to your lips, he managed to clean up between your legs with the damp rag without any pain, thank God, and chucked it in the washing basket before anyone noticed.

He also covered it with a bunch of clothes. Like, in the middle of the pile in there, before his mom saw it.

“C’mere.” He said softly, gathering you into a cuddle, tucking both of you in a blanket, whispering how good you were, how well you took what you got, how pretty you sounded.

Y’know, all words that made your pretty, empty head fuzzy enough to be lulled to sleep.

DAY SEVEN, TRANSFORMATION COMPLETE.ᐟ

A normal night of doing your English homework, steady essay writing that Clark wasn’t exactly equipped to help with, it was an essay on personal opinions about a set text. And it was going great, you were halfway there, your back would’ve been aching but no, some Lord above blessed you with an untouched back. Overall, things were going— your bedroom window opened.

Just as you were about to use your English essay as a weapon, you saw the familiar shoe of Clark, and you relaxed further into the bed, knowing you were safe. “Hey, babe— oh!” You gasped when he suddenly climbed onto the bed on top of you, nuzzling right between your legs as he kicked off his shoes with a low moan. “C—Clark, what’re you, what—”

“Shh, just please, baby, I just, I— shit.” He only responded by yanking your pretty sleep shorts with a bow on the top down, licking over your panties to taste you before yanking those down too— oh, you couldn’t hold back how you moaned and melted back into the throw pillows, panting as you let him do his thing.

You’d only had a break from him going down on you for a day, and even then you’d been asked by Chloe and Lana why you were so dazed lately. Now you had Clark mouthing and licking over your panties, until those were practically ripped off and his mouth replaced them. That was the reason why.

“Oh my, oh, gosh—” It spilled from your mouth in waves. Sucking, licking, at a much faster pace than a day ago, add a plethora of different pitched moans and whines, even more so when your hand buried in his hair. His fingers came up to toy with your clit, because he’d learnt that you dripped more when he did, and he was proud to say that he’d learnt everything there was to know about you, inside and out.

“Oh, Clark!” You gasped, hips arching off the bed, but then he suddenly pulled away, lips and chin covered in you, yanking off his jacket then lying down on the bed. He pulled you up, so you were straddling his face and your cunt was all he knew, yanking you down and holding you by your ass while he made you forget all sense of reality. It’s like he was obsessed with eating you out.

He kinda was.

Your hips moved on their own, grinding on his tongue, English essay clattering off the bed, breathlessly calling out to your parents that everything was ok so they didn’t come in and see… this. And even as he was devouring you like you were the tall glass of water he’d been looking for, you couldn’t resist reaching up, pressing your hand to your chest, playing with your tits over your thin camisole.

“That’s good, pretty, play with yourself.” Clark panted amid moans and licks and moans some more, “I’ve got you.”

Pussy. It was the only word that he could understand right now.

[amoressb]

𐙚 bows

pairings : bf!ot7 x reader

synopsis : where he would let you put/wrap bows

lee heeseung - loosely around his neck

this is truly for your eyes only. you wouldn’t let him go out with it around his neck of course. he wears a lot of necklaces so why not give him a special necklace being the loose bow around his neck. now it could lead to other things..or just you two laying down watching a movie, you on his chest messing with the bow a bit giggling at your special privileges.

park jongseong - top of his guitars and wrist

for the guitars, jay went to play one of his guitars only to find them all decorated with bows on the tuning pegs and of course they’re like this because you snuck in a little earlier to put them all on cuz it felt like they were missing something. he didn’t mind of course, not even when you came in to watch him play and put the same pink bow around his wrist so it flows while he plays.

sim jaeyun - around his wrist or finger(s)

if there was something you loved just a bit more about jake besides him and his lips it would be the veins that run from his forearm down to his hands and his fingers. his skin is so soft as well..he’s too pretty. you’d alternate between putting a bow on his wrist or finger maybe even both if you can’t decide. it’s truly mind blowing how a guy can have such soft pretty skin.

park sunghoon - biceps

it’s one of two reasons why the bows are there. either he’s gone to workout and you put the bow there in case any girl tries to make a move he can easily use it to show he’s obviously not interested. now the other reason, which is mostly the reason, is simply because you can’t look away as it’s not too common he shows his arms so when he does..and he flexes them for you..in a tank top or pulls his short sleeve up a bit..now…

kim seonwoo - his hair as pigtails and clips

it always amazes you how incredibly soft his hair is. you love laying down with him or him just laying his head on your lap and you run your fingers through his hair so its only natural you had the urge to put bow clips in his hair. what stunned him were the pigtails you had done with little silk ribbon around them tied into bows. he was so relaxed he didn’t even realize you giggling while making them.

yang jungwon - his torso or waist

it’s unfair to you that he has a more snatched waist than you. his torso being the perfect v shape..ughh too perfect. you HAD to put a pink bow around his waist. the times you put it around his torso it always ends up slipping down to his waist and its the most attractive thing ever since his waist is smaller than his top half, the bow sits so loosely around his waist..you just faint right there. truly a blessing for your eyes only.

nishimura riki - around him completely

he really doesn’t know how he got into this situation. all he remembers is you running to him all happy and now your giggling while tying a silk pink bow over his arms around his torso, everything, completely caging him in while he’s sitting on your bed. you took many pictures of course trying to decide which one would be your new wallpaper, but truly he doesn’t mind at all. do whatever you want. he’s utterly whipped for you.

(note : a bit biased towards niki i love him sm sorry😓; but i would wrap them all completely tbh and also thank you so much for the love on my first post i love you all !!)

[lay-z]

cotton candy clouds | 2

Synopsis: Due to his rank, status, and many combat achievements, Lieutenant Riley is assigned an emotional support hybrid by the brass; whether he likes it or not.

Pairing: handler!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x dog!hybrid!fem!Reader

Warnings/Info: 18+ MDNI | Reader is a purebred Samojede (dog)hybrid. Despite ears, tails, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | bimbo!Reader; hypersexuality; heavy smut; tw: past (sexual) abuse/manipulation; cussing; fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; eventual romance; strangers to lovers; dub-con elements (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

☁ ccc; masterlist

“Fuckin’ hell…” Simon mutters under his breath, face twisting into a deeper frown as both exhaustion and annoyance settle in; etching into his features behind the itchy, damp cloth still covering his face. 

Another giggle bubbles up in your throat, resounds freely around the room as you keep beaming at him from your spot on his couch, though no matter how melodic it sounds, Simon can merely feel his stomach churn and his skin crawl. “Wowee, you sure do cuss a lot, Simon!” 

“Stop calling me that.” Simon deadpans. 

And the curses keep burning and festering on the tip of his tongue, some directed at himself self-deprecatingly, as he simply decides to ignore the stray currently taking up residence in his sacred space. He swallows those insults down. His wet boots squeak on the floor as he turns on his heels and marches towards his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with finality like some pouty teenager. 

The mask comes off swiftly; uncaring of the sharp pain as he tugs at his own hair harshly, pulling out a few damp, dirty blonde hairs by the roots from his scalp before he tosses the mask onto his neatly made bed, and Simon takes a deep breath. 

He discards his BDU’s methodically, throws his dirty clothes into the old laundry hamper in the corner of the manageable bathroom, and takes a quick shower despite his aching muscles and bones screaming at him for more warmth from the hot water. And even after his quick wash, Simon cannot find it in himself to relax, not when he’s all too aware of the strange intruder currently occupying his living room. 

In spite of the hole in his stomach, the angry grumbling vibrating from its empty pit all up to his chest, Simon goes to bed hungry, though it’s nothing he’s unfamiliar with from his past; he simply refuses to deal with you and he’ll try his damn best to keep the contact to the barest minimum until he’s forced to face you again in the morning to take you back to Price’s office–to let the old geezer sort this messy situation. 

Now Simon lies on his knackered mattress at barely 0830 p.m., stiff as a board, staring at the ceiling in utter darkness; ears strained to pick up every little sound you might be making. For a moment, he wonders if you’re snooping around through his stuff, even though he doesn’t really own many personal belongings or sentimental keepsakes. You certainly don’t give off any of those threatening vibes he can easily pick up on with new people; he simply thinks you too daft to be deceiving. 

As thick as two short planks, Simon muses to himself, snorting softly with a straight face. With your bloody tail and stupid dog ears; way too soft and defenceless, dependant on some stranger to be your bloody handler as if you’re not a grown, capable woman yourself– 

His thoughts get disturbed by a sound he hasn’t heard in a long, a very long time. It’s almost too subtle at first, but it still makes him jerk up in his creaky single bed, causing the prickly military-issued blanket to slip off his bare chest and pool around his hips. Simon hates how his heartrate increases slowly and despises the myriads of emotions crashing over him like a tsunami wave. 

And then he hears it again–a steady, high-pitched yet soft noise; alternating between pathetic whinging and gut-wrenching squeaks. 

Simon tries to ignore it for another moment, closing his eyes to will himself to sleep when it seems you’ve given up, until you pick up right where you’ve left off. 

Heaving his massive body out of his bed nearly silently despite the creaking bedframe and the soft groan escaping his throat, he puts on a pair of tattered sweatpants, its waistband hanging baggy and low on his hips from years of wear, and pairs it with an old Army shirt before leaving the safety of his bedroom begrudgingly to sneak back into the living room. 

There is no need to hide his face from someone who has no common sense to even care about his identity, so he doesn't bother to put his mask back on. 

As Simon walks down the short hallway from his bedroom to the open living room, he notices the change of scent as he keeps approaching with caution. It’s sweet, but not too overwhelming. Flowery and fresh, like chamomile and daisies drenched in honeydew, and it gets stuck on the back of his tongue as he can’t stop himself from inhaling deeply.  

The whining stops as soon as he switches the light back on, tawny brown eyes zeroing in on the spot on his couch where you’d arranged the few cushions into a meagre nest, and when your head pops up from within your little den, blinking at him with twitchy ears and wide eyes, Simon gets triggered and thrown back in time in a way that has his breath stutter momentarily and his chest ache as if hit with a sledgehammer. 

A memory of his late mother flashes in front of his inner eyes; lithe body curled up in a makeshift nest to keep her own cubs safe inside a cold apartment in one of the worse corners of Manchester. But it’s gone in a blink and slips back into the dark, rotten corners of his mind before he can begin to process it properly. 

He hasn't thought about her in too long, and the realization makes the shame even worse as it lodges itself in his throat, choking him slowly but surely. 

“Hello,” you chirp suddenly, pulling him back to here and now, and Simon notices the huskiness to your voice from crying out so much. “Oh! Your mask is gone,” you remark with fluttering lashes and a soft chuckle. “You’re so handsome, Simon–” 

Simon huffs. “O’right, stop,” he grumbles before rubbing a calloused hand over his face, scratching his stubble as he feels an unfamiliar heat rise in his pale cheeks. “Whaddaya doin’? Why are you whinging like some bloody puppy?” 

Your ears flatten, nearly disappear under your hair as you avert your eyes from him, and Simon catches himself wondering briefly how you make those cotton balls hide so easily before he hears you answer ruefully: “I'm scared. I don't like sleeping alone in the dark.” 

Ah, shite.  

Simon stares at you for a moment, unblinking and unmoving; shoulders barely rising with shallow breath.  

“Then sleep with the bloody lights on,” he counters eventually. “I don’t give a shite. I'm no' the one payin' for the fuckin' power bill.” 

The pout on your face makes his nose wrinkle in anger, and he hates that he didn't put on his mask, that he's giving you the privilege to judge his facial expression. He tries to reign them back in, keep his ugly mug more neutral. 

“Can I... sleep with you in your bed?” 

You actually manage to throw him off balance with that. His heart skips a violent beat at your innocent question and casual tone, like you're some damn child scared of the dark, but you're not. You're a grown woman asking to share a bed with a stranger, with Ghost of all people! Don't you know who he is? Did nobody bother tell you or are you really that foolish to care? 

“No.” Simon nearly growls at you, trembling hands balling into fists at his sides to keep himself from ripping his own hair out in frustration. He wants to say more, wants to lecture you, get some sense into your idiot hybrid-brain, but he only manages a curt answer. No.  

Your face drops even more, a soft keening whine reaching his trained ears before you swallow it down with great effort as Simon notices the way your delicate throat bobs. The sound brings back more memories of his mother, and pity along with it. For you, for him, for her. He doesn't quite understand the sentiment and he adds it to the list of things he hates, because he can't control anything he’s feeling right now, because you keep confronting him with it unwittingly. 

What Simon does remember is the way his mother had always found comfort in his father's scent. No matter how much of an abusive prick he was towards her, or her children. The memory makes bile rise in his throat and he swallows it quickly. 

“Here,” he gruffs eventually, reaching for the hem of his worn shirt and pulling it off in one smooth motion; uncaring of the way it leaves his broad, scarred torso bare in front of you. “You can have this, but no more whinging, lass.”  

Pity. It’s pity making him do this, he assures himself; something else he hasn’t felt in a bloody long time. A feeling right up there with mercy. It’s what makes him do it, despite knowing that you shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t need this from him. He isn't your handler, definitely not your friend. Simon is a stranger to you as much as you are to him, and yet– 

The fabric is thrown at your head with unmatched precision, hanging in front of your face for a moment, surprisingly soft and drenched in his heavenly, musky scent, before you slowly pull it off, tail finally wagging and thumping dully against the couch. But when your eyes uncover and you blink to clear your vision, the spot where Simon was standing previously is empty; leaving you lonely, sad and cold once more. 

As Simon slips back into his own bedroom, silent as ever, his jaw clenches tightly when he hears how the soft thudding of your tail stops at once before his door clicks shut behind him, and one thing becomes even more clear to him– 

He needs you gone. 

@lucienofthelakes @kakashiislut @jggykhug09090 @edgarapoecolouredglasses

[heavensenteden]

✎ caught you! | nsfw fic 🔞

☆彡

i finally pulled myself up to write a TKaTB fic.

i wanted a reader who was freaky like sol and matched his freak LOL, so we have reader who is aware!!

i’m also brain rotted about this man sooo bad it’s insane guys help!

enjoy ;P

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62611723

pls minors dni and dnr ⭐️

word count: 3747

🌱˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

The library was quiet today, save for the soft rustle of pages from students studying diligently and the occasional creak of the old bookshelves that your university so desperately needed to replace.

You liked it this way, a nice, quiet place far away from everyone, where you could just relax and be alone, and where Solivan’s eyes could follow you without drawing much attention. He was sitting nearby, alone at the end of the big oak table tucked away in one of the library’s four corners.

You had purposefully chosen a spot where he could watch you, presenting yourself out in the open for him. Pretty generous of you, honestly. You could feel it. Sol’s gaze, always lingering on you, his presence a shadow at the edge of your peripheral vision.

Occasionally, you’d glance up on purpose, just to catch a glimpse of his eyes meeting yours before he buried himself back into whatever book he had open, his face flushing that pretty red colour.

It was comforting in a twisted, intoxicating way. You already knew he was infatuated with you. It started off quite tame, to be fair; you hadn’t really noticed him before since he always sat at the back of the class, away from judgmental eyes.

But then the little things started. A shadow following you home, or that burning feeling of being watched.

Then one windy evening, you came back home to your apartment to find your window lock broken, and the place freezing because of it. Naturally, you freaked out. You called Crowe to come assess the damage, check if anything was missing, and to keep you company while you tied a flimsy ribbon around the latch, hoping it would be enough to keep your stalker out.

Unfortunately, Sol needed a lot more than ribbon to deter him.

That same night, he oh so easily undid your makeshift lock and slid right up next to your unconscious sleeping body, stroking your hair and holding your hand as if you were lovers.

Unlucky for him, you were a light sleeper, and the slight brush of his hand woke you. The room was so dark, save for the beams of moonlight streaming through the same window Sol had crept through not too long ago. You could only catch pieces of green and black hair shuffling around as you lay, somewhat petrified, in bed.

Then he spoke.

“My sweet pumpkin… sorry about your lock. I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he whispered to you sweetly.

You felt him shift, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek before sliding out of your bed, bidding your “sleeping” self goodbye as he slipped back out through your window. By the time you scurried to see his figure outside, he was already gone.

The next day, his actions couldn’t have been more different. You met him face to face in your art class, where you were paired as new partners for the upcoming project.

“My name is Solivan Brugmansia. Sol for short,” he said.

It was the same voice.

At the time, your blood ran cold as you realized the tall, brooding man in front of you was the same one who’d been lying next to you in bed the night before, breaking into your apartment just for a few moments of bliss with you. You.

Were you creeped out? Of course. Scared? Maybe a little. But for some sick reason, you were flattered that he’d taken such a liking to you.

“Sol… like the sun? That’s so cute, considering you’re dressed so… alternatively,” you said, deciding to experiment a little.

You stepped closer, your hand brushing against the thick black-and-green choker he wore. Your fingers moved lower to lift the key necklace around his neck, examining it carefully. Hmm. It didn’t look like a key to your apartment, so that was good.

You looked up at him, offering a sweet smile as you stepped back. You noticed how red he’d gotten and how he murmured under his breath about how pretty you were, clearly under the assumption that you hadn’t heard.

Oh, you were going to have fun with this one.

-

Today, you decided to push him further and tease him a little to see how he’d react.

Standing up from your seat, you knew Sol’s eyes would already be on you, watching and studying your every move as you walked over to the English section. To be fair, you actually did need some books for an upcoming research paper but you grabbed one at random in all honesty.

As you scanned the shelves, you found the perfect target: a book just out of reach. You stretched your arm dramatically, fingers brushing the spine but never quite making contact. You let out a dramatic, frustrated sigh, even pouting a little as you looked up at the book, knowing full well Sol was watching.

“Having trouble?” His voice was velvet, smooth and dark, as he appeared from nowhere. His tall figure loomed just behind you, towering over your own, and close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off his body.

You turned to him, feigning surprise. “Oh, Sol! I didn’t see you there. Could you help me, please?” You looked up at him with pouty lips and big eyes, clasping your hands together as you played the damsel in distress. And he was eating it up.

His pierced lips curved into a small smile, but his eyes, those intense, bright eyes, burned with something else. “Let me help you.”

He reached over your shorter body, effortlessly pulling the book from its place. His arm brushed yours, and you shivered, allowing the reaction to linger longer than necessary. He noticed. Of course he did.

“Oh, thank you, Sol,” you said softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “God, you’re such a lifesaver for me!”

Something flickered in his gaze. Satisfaction? Possessiveness? Maybe it was a bit of both. “Anything for you,” he murmured.

You took the book from his hands, letting your fingers graze his. A deliberate move, subtle but effective. His breath hitched, barely audible, but you caught it.

“Are you studying by yourself?”

Holding the book he’d just grabbed for you close to your chest, an idea popped into your head.

“Yeah, I was uh… sitting over there.”

Sol’s gaze shifted as he gestured to the big oak table he’d been seated at earlier. Thank god he’d picked a more isolated area to reside in.

“Oh my god, perfect! I’ll come sit with you!”

Before he could get an answer in, you zipped back to your study area to gather your bag and papers, carrying it all over to the empty table, save for Sol’s setup, and dropped it all on top.

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know,” he said, glancing at you as he slipped back onto his chair. “I’m fine on my own.”

“I like being with you, though,” you replied, your voice now more quiet since, well, you were in the library. “With you.”

He blinked, his cheeks flushing as he tried to focus back on his book, but you weren’t about to make it that easy for him. You slipped into the chair beside him, leaning slightly over the table as you pretended to skim through the pages of the book he’d grabbed for you.

“Hey, Sol,” you said, your tone sweet but laced with mischief. “Do you think Edgar Allan Poe was really that depressing, or do you think he was just dramatic?”

He looked at you, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in topic. “Poe… was a complicated man,” he began. “His life was filled with tragedy, but I think he used his writing as a way to… cope.”

“Hmm,” you mused, tilting your head as if deep in thought. “I don’t know, some of his stuff just seems so… intense. Maybe I’m just not smart enough to get it?” You leaned in closer, your shoulder brushing against his as you gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look.

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice firm. “You’re incredibly intelligent.”

“Aww, you really think so?” you cooed, leaning even closer until your face was mere inches from his. His breath hitched, and you swore you saw his grip tighten on the edge of the table.

Before he could respond, you shifted, swinging a leg over to settle yourself on his lap. His entire body went rigid beneath you, and his face turned a deep, furious red.

“What are you doing?” he stammered, his hands hovering awkwardly near your hips, unsure of where to place them.

“Getting comfortable,” you said simply, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned in close, your lips nearly brushing his ear. “Is that okay?”

He swallowed hard, his hands finally resting on your waist as if he couldn’t help himself. “Y-yeah, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You could feel the tension in his body, the way his breaths came out more quickly, staggered, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. The hard press of his cock hidden beneath the layers of clothing between you only confirmed it, and you smiled to yourself, savouring the bit of power you held over him.

You hummed, pretending to be clueless about his… growing problem as you skimmed your books, jotting down notes here and there, while Sol struggled to even get through one paragraph of the book he was reading, your body on top of his becoming too much of a distraction.

The girl of his dreams, the one he snuck out to see every night, the one he studied so closely and had fantasies about, was, right now, in this very moment, sitting on his lap. Her plush ass perfectly slotted against his body. And it was driving him insane.

“Sol?” you asked suddenly, your voice cutting through his haze. “You haven’t turned the page in a while. Is it boring?”

His eyes darted to yours, wide and panicked, as if you’d caught him doing something forbidden. “N-no, it’s fine,” he stammered, his hands flexing against your waist. “Just… distracted.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Distracted? By what?” You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “Is something on your mind? You can talk to me, you know���”

His breath hitched again, and he clutched you tighter as if grounding himself. “No,” he whispered, voice low and strained. “I-I’m okay.”

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, savoring the way he froze beneath you. “If you’re so sure,” you murmured, your voice laced with a little bit of concern. “Because if you need to talk I’m always here for you sweetness.”

Yeah that did it.

Sol’s pants felt so tight as the curve of your ass shifted on and off his hard, clothed cock, and he bit his lip to try and stifle any noises as you moved around. His hands gripped your waist as he spoke into your ear, low and raspy.

Sol’s hands trembled as they clutched your waist, his knuckles whitening with restraint. “Please… sit still,” he begged, his voice strained and heavy with need.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider his plea, your lips curling into a wicked smile. “Hmm, I don’t know,” you teased, shifting just slightly, enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. “You seem a little tense, Sol. Are you sure you’re okay?”

His eyes darted to yours, wide and desperate. “I-I need… I should go.”

Before you could respond, he gently lifted you off his lap and bolted from the table, his long strides carrying him toward the exit of the library and to the left, down the hall to where the bathrooms were tucked away.

You watched him disappear through the library exit, a slow grin spreading across your face. How adorable. He thought he could hide from you.

Leaving your things behind, you followed. The hallway leading to the bathrooms was dimly lit, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above, reminding you for a moment of how shitty this university could be.

You pushed the door open silently, locking it behind you with ease and stepped inside, finding Sol leaning over the sink, his head bowed, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles were pale. He was panting, looking as if he might pass out from just being teased by you, his hard-on visible to you as it strained against his pants.

“Running away from me, Sol?” you asked, your voice lilting as you closed the distance between you.

He froze, lifting his head up instantly, his reflection in the mirror staring back at you, panic swirling in his bright eyes. “W-What are you doing here?” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he turned around to face you.

You stopped just behind him, close enough that your breath brushed along the nape of his neck. “You ran off so suddenly… I got worried,” you murmured, your fingers trailing lightly along the edge of his sleeve, brushing his fingers with yours. “What’s wrong, Sol? Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no,” he choked out, refusing to meet your gaze. His hands flexed against the sink, and you noticed the way his shoulders tensed, his whole body tense with barely-contained frustration.

“You’re lying to me,” you whispered, stepping closer, your chest now pressed flush against his. You slid your hands up his arms slowly, feeling him shiver beneath your touch. “You’re so worked up, Sol… what were you planning to do while you're here?”

“I—I wasn’t going to–” he stuttered, but the words died on his lips as your hands moved to his waist, your fingers brushing along the waistband of his pants.

“Shh,” you cooed, standing on the tips of your toes and brushing some of his hair out of the way to press a gentle kiss to his neck. “No need to lie to me sweetness. I already know.”

His breath hitched audibly, and his hands clenched the sink harder as he fought to maintain control. “You can’t just… do this to me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Do what?” you asked innocently, your lips trailing to his ear. “Help you? Because it seems to me like you need it, Sol.”

You let your fingers dip lower, teasing the button of his pants as you whispered, “So tell me… do you want my help?”

His resolve crumbled in an instant. “Yes,” he breathed, his voice barely more than a whimper. “Please.”

Sol’s hands gripped the edge of the sink so tightly, his knuckles were turning white with restraint, but his body was betraying him. He was trembling with need, his chest heaving, every breath shallow and hitched. You could feel his thighs tremble as your hands deftly moved to unzip his pants, undoing some buttons along the way.

You took your time, savoring the moment with this gorgeous man crumbling under your touch and gaze. Slowly, you pressed your body flush against his, feeling the heat of his skin against yours. You could feel the stiffness of his arousal, throbbing against the confines of his boxers, and it made your own… area pulsate in response.

“Sol…” you whispered against his ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this. So desperate for me.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hands still resting against the sink, his body shaking as if he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer.

“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore,” he groaned, his voice cracking. “I need you… now.”

You smiled, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You knew exactly what he wanted, what his body was begging for. You slid your fingers down the waistband of his boxers, barely grazing his skin, and Sol’s breath hitched, his hips jerking forward in anticipation.

“Patience, Sol,” you teased, your fingers circling his cock gently, slowly, barely touching but just enough contact to make him shudder. “You’ve been so good for me so far, haven’t you?”

His hands flexed against the sink again, and he let out a low, guttural moan. “I need you,” he whispered again, more urgently now, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t make him wait any longer.

With a swift motion, you freed him from the remains of his clothing, your hands finally wrapping around his cock completely. Sol’s body jerked at the contact, his head falling forward onto your shoulder as a sharp gasp left his lips. He was so sensitive, so responsive, and it made your heart race.

“You’re mine now,” you murmured, your voice low and commanding. You began to move your hand slowly, torturously, teasing him just enough to make him squirm, but never enough to let him find release.

Sol’s breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling with need, his hands gripping the counter as if it was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. “Fuck…” he muttered. “Please… I can’t take it.”

“You can take it, Sol,” you whispered, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’ve made it this far, haven’t you? You’re going to finish when I tell you to. Understand?”

He nodded his head, never disagreeing with your demands, his eyes were glazed with lust for you, his body twitching with every slow stroke from your hands. “Yes… Yes, I understand.”

Sol whined softly to himself, as you jerked your hand up and down. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard, only for you to sweetly tell him to open them back up, of course he obeyed, watching your slow, deliberate movements. The way you were hovering over him right now, your eyes boring into his, as your hands were wrapped around his cock, applying more pressure.

“You’re being so good for me Sol…” you purred, slowly sinking towards the ground, not caring about being in a bathroom, or even caring that you were doing this at your university. You looked up at him sweetly, asking him politely to hold your hair back, and he did it right away, after all how could he refuse?

He gently pulled all your hair back, somewhat neatly wrapping it around his hand, careful to not pull too tightly. He felt your warm hand gently stroke his cock, your lips just inches away, so so close.

Then you started to tease him. Licking up the underside of his length, gently pressing kisses from the base to the tip, your tongue teasing him as he whimpered and started to shake underneath you, completely submitting himself to you.

He could feel your hot breath as you hummed and toyed around with him. You slowly started to take his whole length into your mouth, inch by inch until your nose was pressed against his pelvis. He was in heaven.

Sol gasped at the sensation, his hand tugging at your hair as he watched you bob your head up and down, your hot, wet mouth, and shivered at the way his cock hit the back of your throat.

“P-Please… hah… pumpkin…” Sol called out for you. His legs shook gently as his climax slowly built up, soft moans and whimpers escaping his lips as he bit down on one hand to muffle his noises, your tempo never letting up as you continued to suck on him.

“Can I cum? Please… let me cum for you pumpkin.” He was begging quietly in the bathroom, watching you suck and hearing you make a muffled ‘mhm’ noise with your pretty plump lips wrapped around him, granting him permission without words.

Within seconds, his hands flew to the back of your head, pushing you down as he came into your mouth, moaning softly as he did, and you graciously let him, taking it all as you felt his fingers dig into your scalp. After a few moments he took a deep breath, releasing his grip on you, and falling back against the cool countertop of the bathroom sink.

You looked up at him sweetly, sticking your tongue out to show him that you had swallowed it all.

Freak.

Slowly, you started to stand up with a satisfied smile, your eyes meeting Sol’s pretty red-orange ones. He was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling, his skin flushed with heat.

You took a step back, eyes never leaving his, and fixed your own clothes with a bit of deliberate slowness, just to tease him. You tucked your shirt back into your uniform skirt, your fingers trailing over the fabric that dipped between your breasts, noticing that Sol’s gaze followed your every movement, still dazed, and still processing everything that had just happened in the bathroom.

Once you were finished, you stepped closer to him, your body just inches away from his. You tilted your head slightly, studying him with that playful glint in your eyes.

“Guess we’re even now, huh?” you whispered, your lips curling into a sly grin.

Sol’s eyes flickered to yours, his confusion evident even with that lingering haze of pleasure clouding his mind. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I know you’ve been sneaking into my apartment at night, Sol… I can hear you when you’re outside my window, and well… playing with yourself in my bed.”

You pulled back, eyes locking with his as you saw the way his pupils dilated, the sudden panic flashing in his gaze. “I’ll make it easier for you though and leave the window unlocked for you tonight, darling,” you purred, your voice dripping with both sweetness and mischief.

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips as you straightened up, straightening your clothes one last time, watching as Sol stood frozen, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awe.

“Don’t keep me waiting, okay?” you teased, giving him a quick kiss, before turning away and walking towards the door.

You pulled it open, leaving him standing in the bathroom alone to process what had just happened, as you stepped out into the hallway. The last thing you heard before the door clicked shut was his soft mutter, “Damn… she knows?”

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself as you walked away, knowing exactly what would happen that night. He was yours from now on.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 14: The Aftermath

Summary: Your heat is over, now all that's left to do is heal.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz

Word Count: 5100 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, fluff, angst, nightmares, PTSD

A/N: Surprise!! Got this one done super early because I kind of just want to move forward with this fic and get to more exciting things so enjoy this bonus chapter. This weekend's update might come a day late, we'll see. Not entirely happy with this one, but it's really just setting up the next part so...yeah. Enjoy!!

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif found on Google)

A rumbling purr vibrates in your chest. It’s a purr of contentment, of satisfaction. You’re warm, not like you had been nine days ago when your heat started, though. This is a comfortable warmth, a cozy warmth. You’re under blankets in your nest, pressed against a bare chest. You trail your fingers along smooth skin until you hit a familiar scar slicing through the skin, right below his clavicle. 

“Got that one outside a bar in Manchester.” 

You pause in your movements, tilting your head to look up at John. He’s staring down at you, his own fingers starting to trace a pattern on your back. 

“Was years ago. Some bloke was getting rowdy inside. Pulled him out to try and talk him down, and he pulled a knife on me.” 

“I can imagine what you did in response.” You murmur, laying your head back on his chest. 

John huffs out a laugh. “Left him with a couple missing teeth, and quite the dent in his head.” He smooths a hand over your side. “You feeling alright?” 

You hum in response. Your eyes feel dry and puffy from crying, and you’re terribly thirsty. You’re beginning to feel the ache in your body again, the steady pulse of pain between your legs starting up. “Hurting again.” You murmur, smacking your lips. “Kinda feels like I swallowed sand too.” 

“Almost time for another muscle relaxer.” He says, glancing at his phone before grabbing an electrolyte bottle from the nightstand. 

You push yourself up to sit, joints cracking as you go. You let out a quiet whimper at the ache in your body, eyes filling up with tears again. 

“Easy.” John tries to soothe you, brushing the hair from your face. “You’re alright.” 

“Sorry.” You sniffle, taking the electrolyte bottle. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“It’s not. It’s just a natural part of coming down from a heat.” John says as you gulp down the contents of the bottle. 

“My mom cried after her heats.” You say, putting the cap back on the electrolyte bottle. “I heard her once, when I was like seven or eight. My dad had picked us up from the care center on base. I wanted to see my mom, but their bedroom door was closed. I could hear her inside, crying alone. My dad scolded me, sent me back down the hall when he saw me. It never felt right to me, that she was in there alone like that, but maybe things are different when you have pups.” 

“I don’t think it was right.” John says as you lay back down against his side. He’s tense, limbs stiff even as his arm wraps around your back. 

“There were a lot of things my dad did that I questioned.” You say absentmindedly, tracing circles on John’s stomach to try and calm him. “Maybe it was just that inner part of me that knew I’d be an omega that made me notice it more. My brothers never said anything, but then again, they all presented as alphas.” You shift against John’s side, tucking your head so he can’t see your face. “Maybe I was just unlucky.” 

He grunts, squeezing your shoulder gently. “You can’t control what nature decides.” 

“Can’t control a lot of things.” You say quietly as he tightens his hold around you. “Suppose I am lucky in one regard.” 

“What’s that?” He asks. 

You shift yourself so you’re facing him, tears sliding down your cheeks again. “You’re a really good alpha.” 

He pulls you against his chest again, pressing your face into his neck. “I don’t know if I’d call myself that.” He says, gently stroking your hair. “Just treating you the way you deserve to be treated.” 

“You treat me like I’m a human being.” You sniffle, wetting his skin as you cry. “That’s better than I’ve been treated since I presented.” 

You don’t see the way his brow furrows, the frown tugging at his lips at your words. You do feel the way he tenses for a moment, arms clenching around you before he relaxes again, a quiet purr rumbling through his chest as he soothes you. 

“I haven’t left your side since your heat started.” He says, taking your hand in his. 

“Really?” You ask, brows pinching a bit at his confession. 

He hums. “Except to use the bathroom.” 

“You must be sick of me by now.” You say. 

“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re my sweet little omega. Could never get sick of you.” 

You let out a soft purring noise, the sound slipping through your lips before you even realize it. Your eyes widen and you push yourself up out of Price’s neck in surprise. “I’ve never made that noise before.” 

Price smiles softly at you, reaching up to stroke your cheek. “Just means you’re happy.” 

“Hmm.” You lay yourself back down against his chest, resting your ear over his heart. You suppose you are happy. 

Or, at the very least, content.

Standing hurts. 

Your legs feel a bit like jelly and your muscles ache deeply. It’s been almost five days since your heat ended, and yet you still feel like you just ran a marathon with no training beforehand. You know part of it is that you’ve been laid up for almost a week, but after that kind of physical exertion, you needed rest. You had only gotten up to stumble to the bathroom a handful of times, leaning heavily on John to avoid straining your muscles anymore than they already were. 

You should get up and start moving now, though. It will help with the stiffness, you know, and you should get the blood flowing at least a little. 

You’re also starting to go a bit stir crazy cooped up in your room all the time. You can only rearrange your nest so many ways, and you’ve even started to kick John out of the nest, opting to cuddle with your giant bear instead. 

You've showered, finally feeling properly clean for the first time in almost two weeks. You dress yourself, opting for the loosest clothes you own, and forgoing underwear. You’re not sure you can handle anything too tight on your skin yet. 

“Ready?” John asks, standing near the door. 

You nod, putting on your slippers as he opens the door. Arms wrap around you as soon as you step out into the hallway, your feet leaving the floor. 

“She lives!” Johnny exclaims, spinning you around. 

You grunt at the impact of the excited Scotsman, but wrap your arms around him anyway, taking in his citrusy scent. You have missed him, not realizing how boring life would be without him until now. You’ve even missed Ghost a bit, his looming presence making the world seem a little less big. 

“Easy, Johnny.” Ghost scolds the overjoyed beta. “She’s still breakable.” 

“Sorry, kitten.” Johnny says, immediately setting you back on your feet and loosening his grip around you. “Missed ye, is all.” 

“I missed you too.” You smile up at him. 

“Thought ye might never be comin’ out of that room.” He says. “Thought I might have tae go in and save ye.” 

You smirk. “You almost had to. Was starting to feel a bit stir crazy in there.” 

He grins playfully at you. “Well, yer more than welcome to spend the night elsewhere if yer sick of bein’ cooped up.”

“She's definitely not going to be doing any of that for a while.” John says, stepping up behind you. “R&R is the only thing on her schedule right now.” 

Johnny pouts. “But what if I just want tae cuddle?”

“Since when do you ‘just cuddle’?” Ghost asks. 

“I can just cuddle.” Johnny pulls you against his chest again, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “I'll do it for our ‘mega. I’ll prove it right now.” Johnny pulls away from you, steering you towards the rec room. 

“I’ll keep an eye on them.” Ghost says to Price, giving him a look before turning on his heel, following you and Johnny to the rec room. 

Johnny flops down on the couch, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around you. You lean against his chest, breathing in his scent again. It’s refreshing, after being stuck in a room with the same scents. You could never grow tired of Price’s scent, but when it’s all you’ve been able to smell for an extended period, you start to get tired of it. You remember nearly tackling Kyle in an attempt to get a whiff of his scent, but the sting of scent blockers had nearly brought you to tears again. 

You let out a quiet sound as Johnny tilts his head, letting you breathe in his scent directly from the source. You start to purr quietly, nose pressed against his throat. An answering rumble begins in his own chest, his arms tightening even more around you. 

“Smell good.” You murmur, your lips brushing his skin. Goosebumps erupt across his neck, a shudder trailing down his spine. 

“Easy, mutt.” Ghost grumbles from the chair beside the couch, his eyes on you and Johnny. 

“Cannae help it.” Johnny almost whines, trying to ease you away from his neck. He grips your chin as your head lolls, a drowsy smile forming on your face as you blink up at him. “Christ, yer gettin’ scent drunk.” 

“Missed you.” You murmur, your brain quieting to a soft buzz as you lean your head on his shoulder, listening to the quiet rumble in his chest. 

“Missed you too.” He says, his hand dropping from your face. His fingers ghost over the mark on your shoulder, making you twitch in his arms. “Cannae believe yer officially part of the pack. Seems like just yesterday ye were arriving, all shy and timid. Now look at ye. Purring away on my lap with Price’s mark on yer shoulder.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, a reminder of just how quickly things have changed. It’s only been almost seven weeks since you arrived in their lives. How quickly things have happened, how quickly things have changed. Though, you suppose things could have happened faster. You’re lucky they gave you so much time to adjust. Many alphas would have started the process as soon as you were in their sights. 

They’re not like that, though. They’ve turned your beliefs on their head and changed your perspective entirely. Alphas can be good and caring and don’t just always take what they want. 

You sniffle as tears pool in your eyes again, Johnny looking away from the TV to stare at you.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He asks, sounding worried. 

“Nothing.” You say, pressing your face against his shoulder. “I’m just crying cause I’m happy.” 

“I know, this is probably the last thing you want to be doing right now.” Dr. Keller says from the end of the exam table. “But, unfortunately, it is necessary.” 

You’re silently glad for the numbing spray, the pressure still enough to make you wince, but you can’t even imagine the kind of pain you’d be in if you weren’t numb. You wonder how many omegas have to go through this without it, how many are subjected to the horror without any sort of pain relief. 

“And we’re done.” She says, pulling away. “Everything looks good, no tearing or other injuries.” She pulls her gloves off, John helping you lower your legs from the stirrups. “Though, I’d suggest abstaining from any rigorous physical activity for at least another week.” 

Your face warms at the implication of her words. You’re not sure you’d want to anyway, at least not for a while. Aside from the soreness, after six days of near non-stop...activity, you might shrivel up and die if you see a naked man again anytime soon. 

“Do you feel up to chatting today, or would you rather go back to bed?” Dr. Keller asks as John helps you sit up. “Won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t want to.” 

You think about it for a moment, chewing on your lip before you answer. “We can talk.” 

She nods, smiling. “Aright. Take your time, I’ll be in my office when you’re ready.” 

She leaves the room, leaving you and John alone. You move slowly as you get dressed, still a bit sore and stiff. John walks you to the door, wrapping his arms around you before you can enter, pulling you against his chest. 

“Call me, if you need anything.” He says. 

You nod, staring up at him before you lift yourself onto your toes to kiss him. He purrs quietly when your lips touch his, his arms tightening around you for a moment before you pull back, staring up into his eyes for a moment before you turn away, heading into Dr. Keller’s office. 

You take your usual seat, silently grateful for how comfortable the chair is as you sit down. You’ve been avoiding sitting as much as possible, having spent the last few days lounging in bed with John and occasionally Gaz. 

“Comfortable?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. Think this is the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in.” 

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “You tell me if you get uncomfortable or if you want to end early, alright?” 

You nod again. “Yeah.” 

She nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “So, how are you feeling, aside from the discomfort? Your first heat with your pack, being claimed, that’s a lot all at once.” 

“It is a lot.” You acknowledge, picking at your sweatpants. “I’m still...I don’t know, processing it, I guess? It’s...a big step, but it was always going to happen. That’s why I’m here, right? To be their omega, to be part of their pack.” 

“That is true.” Dr. Keller agrees. “As much as I could say about it, you are right. This was the end goal of this entire experiment. But, how do you feel about it? Are you relieved that it’s over?” 

“Yeah.” You answer. “I’m glad that it’s over, that it’s done with. I...guess I feel lucky too.” You chew on your lip nervously. 

“In what way?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“John’s a...good alpha. I think I knew that before, but...he took care of me. He didn’t hurt me, he’s never forced me into anything.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They’re all good pack members. Even Ghost.” 

“Good.” Dr. Keller smiles. “I’m glad you feel that way. John is a fantastic alpha. He cares a lot about you and your wellbeing.” 

“He treats me like I’m more than just my status. I feel like...like I’m a person again. Not just something that can serve others. I used to think that's just what omegas were supposed to do. At the institute, that's what we were taught. How to serve. But, I can see now how we do so much more than that.”

Dr. Keller practically beams at you. “That’s great! That’s so great that you’re beginning to discover your place in their pack. I think it will get easier, now that you’re official.” She nods towards your shoulder where your claiming mark now sits. 

You fight the urge to reach up and touch it, curling your fingers around the fabric of your sweatpants instead. It doesn't hurt anymore, other than slight soreness if you lay on that shoulder after a while. The scabs are beginning to come off, revealing the scar that will decorate your skin for the rest of your life, showing proof of your place in Price’s pack as his omega. 

“Do you feel different, being a claimed omega now?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You do feel different. Not just because you're a claimed omega now. There's something else, a sort of connection now that you've never experienced, even with your family. You don't know how to describe it, except for a slight buzzing in the back of your brain that only seems to quiet when you're near John. You don't really notice it until you think about it, and then you can't get it quiet until you're near John again. 

“Yeah.” You finally answer, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in your brain. 

“The bond,” Dr. Keller says with a grin. “Hard to describe, so I've heard. I've also heard it lessens in intensity with time. Has anything else changed? Any feelings?” 

You shrug. “I guess I feel...better about being here. It’s still not ideal but...I feel happier.” 

“Yeah? Good.” Dr. Keller writes something down. “That makes me glad to hear. You’re getting along with everyone?” 

You nod. “Yeah. I’ve been getting closer to Kyle and Johnny. I know they’ll want to progress our relationships after I’ve healed a bit.” 

“Is that something you want?” 

You nod. It is something you want. Kyle has already seen you in your most vulnerable state, and you know Johnny has been anxiously awaiting his time. You’d even consider getting closer to Ghost, though, that would be entirely up to him and what he wants. You know getting closer to Johnny will inevitably force you and Ghost closer, but you won’t push the alpha’s boundaries. 

That will only end poorly for everyone. 

John is awake instantly as soon as the knock comes at the door. He calls for them to enter, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he stares blearily at the computer screen in front of him. Simon’s giant form approaches the desk, sinking into the chair across from him. 

“Getting caught up?” Simon asks, looking him over. 

John nods. “Slow progress. Hard being out of commission for six days.” 

“Well, you didn’t miss much excitement. Laswell called a couple times. Kyle talked to her.” 

“That’s what he said.” John leans back in his chair. “Checking up on our girl.” 

“Sent over some things that might interest you as well.” 

“I see that.” John says, glancing at the email in his inbox. One of several hundred unread emails. 

“You look tired.” 

“Think I’m getting old, Simon.” John says, running a hand over his face. “I don't remember things being this rough, coming out of it.” 

“I’ve heard purebreds are different.” 

John gives him a look. “Thank you for holding down the fort.”

Simon shrugs. “Things are going to get difficult now.”

“We have a job to do, above everything else. That was something we knew from the start.” John says. 

“Things were different then.” Simon says. “It's going to be a struggle.”

“We knew that too.” 

“I'm not talking about the omega.” Simon's voice lowers, taking on the low rumble of Ghost. “I'm talking about you.”

John's back stiffens as he stares at his Lieutenant. “This doesn't change anything.”

“It changes everything.” Simon stands from his seat. “Just how much, we won't know until we're in it.” He turns, making his way towards the door. 

“You think you're immune?” John says, making him pause by the door. 

“No. But I've been keeping my distance for a reason.” He turns the handle on the door, turning to look back at John. “One of us has to have a clear head.”

John watches as the door closes, something tickling in the back of his mind. He sighs as he sinks back in his seat, eyes moving to the computer screen and his hundreds of unread emails. 

He closes the browser, shutting down the computer, staring at the screen until the hum of harddrive quiets. His skin is prickling now, thinking back on Simon's words. Of course things have changed. It would be no different had they added a fifth person to the team. He knows leaving will be hard, but they have a job, a duty to perform. That always comes first above all. 

Can he make it come first after this? 

He remembers how different things had felt after he claimed Kyle. His decisions became safer, but his actions became riskier to ensure Kyle's safety. It wasn't that he doubted Kyle's abilities. He knows Kyle is more than capable of taking care of himself. That's why he's on the team. It was his instincts needing to protect his pack, to ensure his beta's safety. 

What is he going to do now that there's an omega involved? 

You won't be going with them, you won't be in the field, but they'll have to leave you behind. It could be weeks before they'd see you again, if they see you again. 

The thought has a sick feeling churning in his stomach. 

Maybe Simon is right. 

Maybe things have changed too much. 

John rises from his seat, his joints cracking. He stretches, groaning quietly at the ache still present in his muscles. It's faded for the most part, but he can still feel it if he's immobile for too long. It's not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's hard to think of a time he's felt worse. 

Maybe he is getting too old for this. 

He pauses outside Kyle's door, staring down at the knob. He feels bad for what Kyle had to go through the last almost two weeks. He knows it's a natural part of pack life, a natural role for betas, but he still feels guilty. 

“Everything alright?” Kyle's voice breaks through his thoughts. The door is open now. Kyle standing there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. 

He hadn't even noticed the door open. 

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “It's nothing. I don't want to bother you.”

“You're not bothering me.” Kyle gives him a worried look. “Just got out of the shower. You can come in, if you want.”

His feet are moving before he even thinks about it, Kyle closing the door behind him. He sinks down into Kyle's desk chair with a heavy sigh. 

“What's on your mind?” Kyle asks, grabbing the jar of coconut oil off his dresser. 

“Too much.” John answers, looking up at him as he approaches. “Everything's going to change now.” 

“Yeah,” Kyle says, setting the jar on his desk before scooping some out. “Things change all the time. We learn and adapt to them. That's what we do.” 

John watches him rub the oil on his face and neck, watching the movements of his hands. He's right. Always the voice of reason and logic. They were trained to adapt to anything. It was their job. They had adapted to your presence easily enough, they could adapt to this new development too. 

It would take time, but they could do it. 

“You're right.” He says, staring at Kyle's glistening skin. He wants to be the one to rub the oil onto his perfect skin, feel the softness of it under his hands. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. You've been a great help through this.” He stops Kyle from grabbing more coconut oil, grabbing some himself. “I owe you a lot for neglecting you these last couple weeks.”

“You weren't neglecting me.” Kyle says, giving him a small smile as John starts rubbing the oil over his shoulders. “You were taking care of our omega.” 

A satisfied growl rumbles through John’s chest at his choice of words. “Now let me take care of you.” 

Kyle’s breath stutters as John moves behind him, rubbing oil onto his back before moving to his chest. His fingers brush over Kyle’s nipples teasingly, pulling a quiet groan from the younger beta’s lips. John leans against his back, slipping his hands down lower, feeling the ridges of his muscles pulled taught from John’s touch. His lips press a soft kiss to the claiming mark on Kyle’s neck, Kyle’s head falling back against John’s shoulder. John growls in approval at the submissive position, his fingers trailing the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants. 

John gathers more coconut oil on his hand before he slips them under Kyle’s pants, spreading the soft oil across his skin. He’d chosen to forgo briefs under his sweatpants, Price’s hand brushing against Kyle’s half hard cock. 

“Fuck...” Kyle breathes, arching into John’s touch. 

“How many times did you jerk off to the sound of us this last week?” John asks, wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock. 

“At first I didn’t,” Kyle says, pressing his hips into John’s hand. “Was too focused on making sure nothing went wrong. But then...” He lets out a moan as John begins jerking his cock. “Then I couldn’t take it anymore. The mental image of you two together, the sounds she was making...” Kyle lets out a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as John brushes his thumb over the head of his cock. 

“Wanted to be in there with us, huh?” John asks, hooking his thumbs over the waistband of Kyle’s sweatpants, tugging them down so they drop around his ankles. “Did you imagine yourself right in the middle, taking my cock while she takes yours? Or did you imagine yourself taking my cock while our sweet omega sits on your face?” 

Kyle lets out a moan, his arms reaching back to grip John’s hips as his legs shake with pleasure. John continues to stroke his cock, pressing a gentle kiss to Kyle’s shoulder. 

“We can make that a reality.” John says, squeezing Kyle’s cock, earning a sweet moan in response. “I’ll show you all the places to touch that get her riled up. I’ll show you just how she likes it, how to get her legs shaking around your head.” 

Kyle’s nails bite into his skin, but he doesn’t care as he continues to jerk his cock, getting him closer and closer to the edge. Price drags his thumb over the tip, spreading precum on his skin. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Price growls in his ear, pumping his cock faster. “Want to know what she feels like wrapped around your cock?” His teeth nip at Kyle’s ear, his beta’s lips parted as he moans loudly. “Want to know what she tastes like?” 

“Fuck...yes!” Kyle almost whines, hips jerking as he cums, spurting all over John’s hand. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

John works him through his orgasm, continuing to lazily jerk his cock as Kyle twitches in his hold. He presses his nose against Kyle’s throat, inhaling the intoxicating mix of sweat, coconut oil, and his natural briney scent. He presses a soft kiss against his mark, finally stopping his movements to allow Kyle to recover. 

“Good boy.” He praises his beta, wrapping an arm around him to help him to his bed. 

“You really mean it?” Kyle asks as he drops onto the mattress, catching his breath. 

“We’ll have to ask her, of course.” John grabs Kyle’s sweatpants, cleaning off his hand before tossing them in the hamper. He moves back to Kyle’s bed, joining his beta. “But if she’s up for it, then so am I.” 

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth. 

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you. 

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence. 

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.” 

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it. 

“Shut up.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak. 

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity. 

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door. 

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them. 

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.” 

You blink up at him, the words registering through the haze. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them. 

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack. 

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever. 

You wake falling from bed. You hit the floor with a thud, gasping for breath. You slap your hands over your mouth before the sob can tear from your lips, not wanting to wake the others. You’re shaking, your heart thudding in your chest as tears slip down your cheeks, sliding over your fingers as they squeeze over your mouth, desperately muffling the sound. 

You hold your breath, forcing the pain and the panic and the grief back in. You can’t have these memories coming back to the surface, not now. Not when good things are finally starting to happen. Not when you’ve finally started to gain a glimmer of hope that things might turn out alright for you. You can’t ruin things now. 

You can’t let them see how broken you really are. 

NEXT ->

Taglist:

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[fantasyinallforms]

Here we go again, good Bagginshield people. I need NEED to talk about this beauty of a scene. Now I will admit BOTFA can be hard to watch but it gives us the most obvious Bagginshild moments. I want to make you aware of some of the more subtle moments within those larger scenes. Let's dive in.

The absolute speed at which this dwarf whips around the moment he hears Bilbo's voice makes his hair spin. His eyes go wide, and his mouth pulls into a surprised smile. All this is combined with the sheer palpable relief in his voice when he breathes out Bilbo's name. He doesn't hesitate to walk toward Bilbo. He moves like it's natural. Like he's being pulled to Bilbo. There is intention in those steps because he stops abruptly when Bilbo moves. I completely think he meant to embrace him. Here is the slow-mo of Thorin's face. Look how happy he looks! His eyes, compared to the 15 seconds before this scene, might as well have stars in them.

Now, don't neglect Bilbo's reaction in this scene. He anticipates Thorin coming towards him, and he's walking too, stopping just as abruptly. His mind is, of course, more on delivering his crucial information.

Now, this part is interesting because, incredibly quickly, Thorin takes the defensive. His first act after getting the news is to pull his nephews back, a task you would think he would take on himself, but he sends Dwalin instead. The moment Bilbo walked into the picture, he was hesitant to leave him alone and wants to stay by his side. He had every intention of leaving with Bilbo, likely to be able to protect him. That is made crystal clear by the following gif.

They are on an active battlefield, but look at the easy way they look at each other and wordlessly convey their thoughts.

It's even more clear in slow motion that looks of relief and trust. With Thorin's look clearly saying will you follow me? Knowing what, not long ago, he was ready to dangle his hobbit over the rampart. There is an almost sheepish way Thorin looks at him. His face softens, and his eyes become kinder. Alternatively, Bilbo's responding nod and smile are permeated with its own relief. He likely suspected the gold sickness was broken, but Thorin's look proved it. His shoulders visibly relax when Thorin looks at him.

After everything that has happened between them, they snap back into this easy rapport as if it were second nature. But it is. The moment they met, everything about them became tangled together. Every scene that contains the two of them is just a treasure trove of these moments. I've made it my mission to ensure no one misses a single one.

~~

More deep dives like this can be found by searching the pinned tag #deep dive on my page ❤️

[elicathebunny]

HEALTH SHOULD ALWAYS COME FIRST! PRIORITISING HEALTH BEFORE EVERYTHING ELSE TO LOOK GOOD + FEEL GOOD.

People always leave out the basics when it comes to trying to improve their looks. Prioritising health is so important before going in and tempering with your body. Your base is what you work with and you can definitely level up with what you've got naturally.

DIET

Your diet also depends on what your goals are. Someone who wants to build muscle will obviously eat differently from someone who just eats relatively healthy. So identify what your goals are and work your meals around that.

Here are some videos to give you a better insight: HOW I LOSE FAT AND KEEP IT OFF MEANS, WORKOUTS + EVERYTHING ELSE PROTEIN EXPLAINED, STRENGTH, MUSCLES, FAT LOSS & ENDURANCE HOW METABOLISM WORKS

Diet not only makes you feel better from the inside, but it also reflects on your outside. Your skin is a huge display of how you eat.

When you consume junk food, it can show up on your skin as breakouts or dullness. Your skin is one massive organ which soaks up everything put onto it and reflects everything you put inside your body. Fix the problem from the inside before getting confused about why your skincare routine isn't working.

FITNESS

Again, your fitness will differentiate from your goals. So work out your goals and make a plan around that. There are so many forms of fitness, some more intense than others and with different results. Working out in general is good for you, our bodies are meant to move. So even if you don't have a goal, staying active is always recommended.

HOW TO CREATE THE PERFECT WORKOUT PLAN

THE BEST WAY TO GAIN MUSCLE, SCIENCE EXPLAINED SIMPLY

Low-intensity workouts:

Yoga: Focuses on flexibility, strength, and relaxation through various poses and breathing techniques.

Pilates: A low-impact exercise method that strengthens muscles, improves flexibility, and enhances posture.

Walking: Simple yet effective, walking is a great way to improve cardiovascular health and boost mood without high impact.

Swimming: Provides a full-body workout with minimal stress on joints, making it ideal for people with joint issues or injuries.

High-intensity workouts:

HIIT (High-Intensity Interval Training): Alternates between short bursts of intense exercise and brief recovery periods to maximize calorie burn and improve cardiovascular fitness.

CrossFit: Combines elements of weightlifting, interval training, gymnastics, and other exercises to build strength, endurance, and overall fitness.

Sprinting: Short, explosive bursts of running at maximum effort, often performed in intervals for cardiovascular conditioning and leg muscle strength.

Circuit Training: Involves moving through a series of exercises targeting different muscle groups with minimal rest in between, combining strength training and cardiovascular exercise.

These are just a few examples, but there are plenty of other workout styles out there to explore depending on your preferences and fitness goals. Walking every day is just a simple way to stay toned.

SLEEP

Sleeping is important for rest and recovery after workouts and energy-consuming activities. Sleep is needed for the brain to function, mood regulation and performance + productivity. Lack of sleep deprives you of all of these things, so getting your beauty sleep is absolutely needed.

School-age children (6-13 years): 9-11 hours per day.

Teenagers (14-17 years): 8-10 hours per day.

Young adults (18-25 years): 7-9 hours per day.

Adults (26-64 years): 7-9 hours per day.

HYGIENE

Upkeeping good hygiene is always needed anyway. Making sure you are clean (smelling good is a plus). Make sure you always wash your hands and take daily showers to remove any dirt on your body (clean those feet and your back well, don't forget them!). Taking care of your oral health must not be forgotten. Oil pulling and brushing your tongue for a healthy mouth. Make sure your hair is also getting the attention to keep it as healthy as you possibly can make it (this also depends on diet). Doing the extra things like spending time on your nails (making sure there isn't that stuff underneath them), making them pretty.

BODY CARE ROUTINE | FOR SMOOTH & GLOWING SKIN, TREATING KERATOSIS PILARIS, SHOWER ROUTINE

ENVIRONMENT

Having a stress-free environment is obviously the best to thrive in. But clearly not even being lucky enough to live like that constantly. So make sure you have that space to be on your own and have some alone time to really recharge. Keeping your space clean for a clear mind. Surround yourself with like-minded people and really set boundaries for those who prey on your mental clarity (energy vampires). Spending time in nature is one of the best ways to detach, rest time should not equal spending time on your devices. Let go and truly let yourself decompress. Mental health will improve how you carry yourself.

EMBODY YOUR POTENTIAL.

[ghostssweetgirl]

Reader x Ghost + König - Using them as weighted blankets

Put me in a cold room, lay them on top of me and watch me sleep fuckin' HARD bc this genuinely seems so comforting

alternate version here

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Thought you were crazy at first for asking him to do such a thing, he knew he was big and didn't want to crush you, but he eventually caved in to your pleas.

It was so cute watching his huge frame crawl on top of you nervously, ready to set down all of his weight on you.

He was quite surprised to see how much faster you fell asleep when he lay atop of you, and used the time to caress your delicate cheeks, watching your chest rise and fall in a peaceful slumber.

He spoiled you with it, resulting in you not being able to sleep worth a crap without his body weight. Weighted blankets had to do when he was deployed, but it didn't compare to the safety of his blanket over you.

Even then, it was the hardest time falling asleep without him. You stayed up too late almost every night, resorting to nighttime medications to try to make yourself sleepy.

The first thing Simon did when he arrived home in the middle of the night, was walk into your shared room, spotting you asleep, sat up against the headboard as you were waiting on him, hugging your bunched up weighted blanket. He sighed a chuckle as he took his gear off and kicked off his boots. He lay his mask on the table and slowly replaced the blanket you were snuggling with himself.

You hummed awake at the newly added weight on top of you. Your hands hug him tight as you sleepily greet him. "Baby... I missed you."

"I missed ya too, luv," your lips finally met, and just like that, the kiss deepened naturally before he pulled back. You cup his jaw, and smile at him. "I think you're rubbin' off on me, babe."

You tilted your head. "How so?"

"I'm findin' it hard to sleep if 'm not laying on you." Dammit, you were his addiction. "'M gettin' tired a'ready."

You smirked as you scooted down pulling more of his body weight on you, resting your head on an actual pillow while you stroked Simon's messy hair, hearing his soft snores as he starts drifting off. "Go to sleep," you whispered. "I love you."

König

At first he was only open to it halfway. He'd drape his leg over yours before adding weight from his chest onto you.

As he slowly moved more on top of you with his head on your chest, he kept checking to see if you were okay, if you were still breathing or having a hard time breathing.

Lots of reassurance later, he finally let all of his weight down on you.

Instantly wrapped your arms around him tightly, taking a deep breath at the peace you feel right now with the perfect amount of weight on you.

He chuckled as you stroked your nails along his toned back, soothing strokes up and down his soft skin.

It wasn't surprising for movie nights to end up like you are now, barely keeping consciousness as you're blessed with the weight of König laying on top of you as a weighted blanket. You fell asleep in the middle of the movie, your boyfriend laid between your legs, crawling up to lay across your chest.

The AC was on, and your room was the perfect coolness. The mixture of König's warm skin pressed against you and the cold air relaxed you. Your hands instinctively tickled softly across his back muscles, soothing the both of you.

The sensation had König's eyes fluttering shut in his state of relaxation.

"You asleep, baby?"

"Nein..." he replied, but with that tone of voice, you could tell he was lying, trying to fight off the sleep overtaking him. "Trying to... relax into your touch, Meine Liebe..."

Your hands slowly start to massage his tensed muscles, furthering his relaxation. He groaned as more body weight pressed on top of you, your telltale sign of how tired he actually was.

"Baby..." you cooed with a grin across your lips. "You need to sleep, yeah?"

He didn't reply verbally, but he barely shook his head. You leaned up best you could to see his face, eyes closed, mouth agape as he slightly drooled onto your tank top. You chuckled, rubbing a tuft of hair as you laid your head back, soon to fall asleep yourself.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sleep II

Katrina Gorry x Teen!Reader

Summary: You forget your medication

The first and only warning flag that Mini needed was you and Kyra pulling pranks.

You'd always been a bit easily influenced by the older girls but you usually didn't get involved with pranks unless you hadn't done one thing that was meant to be second nature at this point.

So, as Mini watches you run your laps as punishment, she sighs.

"She's off her meds," She says in explanation to Charli, who is sitting nearby.

"Huh?"

"Her adhd meds," Mini elaborates as she watches Kyra try to trip you. You just barely keep your balance and immediately try to get revenge by shoving her over.

"Is she allowed to be off them?"

"I mean, technically, yes. It doesn't really matter if she misses a few doses but I don't think she's taken any this entire camp." Mini sighs as she stands, stretching out her leg before grabbing you by the back of the shirt as you jog past.

"Hey!" You complain," I still have two more!"

"Nope. Back to your room, please." She keeps her orders short so you can follow along. "Go straight in and shower. I'll be up to see you shortly."

"But-"

"Into your room," Mini insists," And shower. I will up soon."

"Fine."

You'd grown accustomed to listening to Katrina's orders. As soon as you came to live with her and Clara, you'd been put into a routine that you hadn't ever had before.

Your parents were always working and rarely home. You'd grown used to doing what you wanted, when you wanted. You hadn't even had a bedtime before moving into Mini's house and it came as a shock to you when she began to enforce one.

It had been extended a little during camp but not by too much and you were usually in bed way before anyone else in the team. It was a little annoying and everyone teased you but you didn't mind.

You didn't really cling to your routines as much at camp and really, that should have been the other sign that told Mini what she needed to know.

She's not at all surprised when she sees you lounging on your bed on your phone with no indication that you had even thought about showering.

"Shower," She says to you," Go on. In the shower."

You nod. "Yeah. Just one sec-"

"No," She insists," Now."

"But-"

"You need to shower before dinner. You know this. If you don't do this now then you won't do it later."

You frown. "I thought you wanted to talk to me."

"I do," Mini says plainly," But you need to shower first." She jerks her chin to the bathroom. "Go on. Wash you hair too."

You make a face. "I don't like wet hair."

"We've got plenty of time before dinner. Wash you hair and I'll dry it for you."

"But-"

She gives you a pointed look and you nod, shuffling into the bathroom with a towel and a change of clothes.

Mini waits briefly before relaxing when she hears the shower start running, digging around in your drawers for where you've stashed your hairdryer. You swear that you always know where it is despite it always being in a different place when Mini looks so after several minutes of searching, she manages to find it and plug it in.

It takes a while for you to return but when you do, you sit in front of her as she blow dries your hair, brushing it through once it's all dry.

"So," Mini says finally," You haven't been taking your medication."

"That's scary," You reply," Do you just know everything?"

Mini laughs. "It's the mum instincts but, really. What's up with that? Did you forget to grab a refill before we left?"

Usually Clara is the one to take you to refill your prescription but she had been busy during the week before camp and you hadn't really thought about it until a few days before.

You shrug.

"Camp isn't that long," You explain," I didn't think it would matter."

"You don't have to take your medication if you don't want to. We can find alternatives," Mini says with a hum as she pulls the brush through your hair again," Do you want to come off your medication?"

"No." You shake your head, turning it so you can look back at her. "I just forgot. Promise. It won't happen again."

Mini searches your face for a lie but it's clear to her that you're being truthful.

"Okay," She says," But stick close to me this time. I don't want Kyra being a bad influence.

"Why not?" You whine.

She grins at you. "Because you're entirely too susceptible to joining her schemes."

[funficwriter]

Fontaine Characters with Violinist Reader!

A/N: This disappearing thing of mine is annoying, I'm trying to stop it. However, I finally got a bit of spare time to play Genshin and I am so, so in love with Fontaine. I think it's gonna be a wonderful arc. I haven't felt this much jubilation since Liyue or Inazuma!

Warnings; None, really.

Lyney, Lynette, Neuvillette, Navia, Furina, Wriothesley (no particular order)

Lyney

First off, this boy is no stranger to performing, an activity he loves. Naturally, he's going to be most interested in fellow performers, including you!

If you're the type to get anxious before, or even during a performance, say goodbye to that with him. He'll guide you through plenty of destressing rituals to help you relax beforehand.

(This included, but wasn't limited to; Taking deep breaths, doing tongue twisters, asking you to play meme songs on your violin, or tickling your sides because 'laughing is a great way to be loose'.)

Even during, should you freeze up and he's in the audience, he'll do a quick but loud magic trick to get everyone's eyes off you. Even one that makes him look like a fool, so long as you have time to put yourself together.

He'd LOVE to have you on stage with him! He adores your music and would ask you to sync it up with dramatic moments in his magic.

If you compose you own stuff, he's pretty much your biggest fan. The guy who never misses a concert. The loudest clapper. The biggest braggart.

"That gorgeous, graceful violinist we had the pleasure of watching? What if I told you that they're coupled up with an equally electric performer? That is, me~."

Lynette

It's easy to think that her brother outdoes her in terms of being your fan, but quietness hides a lot. If you think she doesn't care as much, you're so, so wrong.

She learned several music skills just to be closer to you, including sight-reading. BTW, she's got a killer voice and loves to sing out your compositions. Sometimes it helps you come up with alternative movements within them.

She can also play piano, to a good level of accompaniment. With time, one would think she is also a music assistant; It's not uncommon for her to be on your stage.

Lynette is VERY attentive to your instrument. Does it need rosin? A new bow, perhaps a re-hair? You just say the word, and she'll happily take it to the repair workshop if you have no time.

"By the way, Y/N prefers real horse hair, the thinnest you have. Don't worry. They're talented enough to thrive on it.".

She makes it a point to let you know how much she loves what you do: "All other music in Fontaine pales in its beauty next to yours. Please, keep playing.".

Neuvillette

You play the violin? (he crosses his legs and assumes his royal position). So when are you going to get married? Will you be okay playing a few pieces, even while being the spouse? /Half-joking, tbh.

For him to say that he is the lover of a music pioneer as important as you... Will never not be a moment of joy for him.

First off, what a sugar daddy. I hope you made a list of the expensive violins you wanted but couldn't afford. Because now, it's yours, never mind the Mora. Your very case may as well be coated with gold.

He won't die on this hill, but he would love it if you could play a bit during the parties he hosts. He loves live music to begin with, but after hearing you, it feels like no other pro could hope to sound as good as you.

(And side note, he likes how mesmerized everyone is with you lol)

If you're the type to remember your patron's personal preferences, and compose/play in accordance to that, just for him? Put hearts in his eyes. He's no longer joking about the wedding thing.

While he loves showing you off, he'll never force you if you're shy/nervous. If anything, he would also feel very special if he got to heard songs not out yet, compositions just for him...

"Perhaps this is Lady Furina's way of rewarding me for my years of service. Bless our Archon for giving me such a talented, show and heart-stopping partner.".

Navia

She likes that the Spina del Rosula is represented by passionate, talented people!

If you like sweets, I say just join her team. It's guaranteed pastries after each request lol.

Her detective work is cool, but can get a bit drab after a while. She likes asking you to play some violin ambiance, partly because it makes her feel cool, and partly because your music changes the atmosphere for much better.

Navia is a woman of decorum, but she'll often have trouble staying still during your concerts. It doesn't matter if there are rules to how loud a woman can cheer, she's happy for you and will make sure you know that.

She becomes even more proactive than usual. If a concert of yours falls on the same time as her work, she'll scour the ends of Teyvat for its solution, so she can see you.

With time, she might request you to play pieces that her father loved. Once they're brought back to life, through your own strings, she can't help but be a little emotional. She must have done something wonderful to have you.

"How beautiful, how poignant as you, my dear Y/N! This calls for macaroons! Which flavor would you like today?".

Furina

"Yes, Neuvillette, I know they perform and all, but why can't I keep them to myself! They're so darn great, I want that everyday!"

Of course, she's not gonna stop you, but beware; I feel like Furina would almost turn you into her own personal violinist lol.

She'd keep requesting your presence over her other personal entertainment and somewhat bombard you with song requests. Buuut if you're looking for a varied repertoire, she's your gal!

One reason she requests so much is because she so impressed with how you not only fulfill them all, you do it so creatively and beautifully. You don't just follow the note as it is... Once you're acquainted with what she likes, you modify the tune a bit to be more her taste.

She's so cute when she claps; The way her hands go so fast and she's about to get up from the seat, the huge eye and smile... Why, you might start reconsidering her offer.

"Bravooooo, Y/N!! Bravo! That was everything, I can't go on without an encore!"

If the tune is more happy-go-lucky, she will get up and dance along. Will also do it in circles around you because she's your little orb :3

Wriothesley

"Forgive me for intruding... But I was overhearing, and your playing is terrific. Electrifying. Do you happen to perform on Saturday nights? That's when I can leave the Fortress for a bit.".

Of all your fans, Wrio is one of the quieter ones, but not so much that no one knows it. For one, he's a Duke, he's bound to enjoy good music. And heavens knows he needs some fun in his life.

Here's a fun thing (ngl this is what I was excited to write): At first, it doesn't sound like he can make it to your recital. You see him on his desk, surrounded by paper mountains that only ever seem to grow. He doesn't want to make you sad, but his remark lets you know that he's not coming: "Would it kill some of these people to tone it down for a bit so I can go see my partner perform?".

So imagine your shock when you step on stage, and see him on the first row, sitting tall and handsome, shit-eating grin on his face and waving. You really bought it for a moment.

"Hehe... Did you really think I can't even make a bit of time to see Fontaine's best violinist in action? You actually bought that?".

I HC that he has insomnia, and has tried any things to cure it, but to no avail. It's rumored in Fontaine that his is incurable, but little do they know about how he lays down next to your sitting form. Little do they know of the soft lullabies you composed just for him, or how peacefully he dreams afterwards 💜

[suksatoru]

dancing in the dark⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ dabi x reader

a/n; dabi falls in love with a dancer ~ listen to margaret ft bleachers by lana del rey for the total bee experience <3

dabi doesn't usually drink. he doesn't want the pain he feels, whether emotional or physical, to fade. he wants it embedded into every fiber of his being. he wants it to be a constant reminder for him to do worse—he wants it to work at his fuel, work as something that gets him up with some sort of a purpose in the morning.

but dabi's just tired today. there were some days his heart couldn't keep up with his mind, and today was one of them. he staggers into the dingy, crowded bar without a second thought, dragging his feet like there was some invisible string holding him back from walking properly

the first sip is always bitter. but soon enough, one glass turns into two. and slowly, his blinks become drearier and the dull thudding behind his eyes fades away to nothing. there's crimson blood running down his calf and no doubt smeared all over his pants, but he doesn't have the energy to tend to any of his wounds right now.

he's tucked into the corner of the bar, sitting at a single stool table with his head bowed as he alternates between tugging at his hair and muttering mindlessly under his breath. his headache is getting worse. he has the sudden urge to break the glass in front of him and swallow the shattered shards just so he can feel something besides the relentless pounding in his head

he doesn't notice when the bar's lights dim, and he doesn't hear the wooden floors groaning under the weight of people dragging their chairs to the front of the bar. there's a small stage in the bar, where a man who must be in his late fifties sits idly—chatting with a wrinkly smile to the folks who sat front and center. his arm was draped over an old, beat down guitar. it looked like he was waiting for someone.

dabi exhales through his nose, rubbing his temple with one hand while the other one holds his knee in a death grip. he didn't have any money to pay for his drinks, didn't even think about bringing any as he wandered until he found a bar he deemed crowded enough for him to enter and go unnoticed

he finally notices that some sort of a show was about to take place when he hears it. the first note is long, and dabi almost thinks he imagined the sound until a slow melody begins to form

he notices the old man, fingers perched as they move languidly up and down the neck of his guitar. the symphony he creates is calming, and dabi sinks into his chair. it creaks quietly from the action, and he allows his eyes to close for a moment

he pries his eyes open slowly when he hears low murmurs of chatter begin. and he's half a second away from telling whoever it was interrupting the man's guitar solo to shut the fuck up—when he finally sees you.

you glide onto the stage slowly. your lips are stretched into a tentative smile and your eyes flit over the small crowd in front of you. and then, you start dancing

your skirt is long, and it brushes the floor with every dip and twirl you take. dabi...has never seen anything like this. you dance like it's as natural to you as breathing is. every movement is relaxed and confident. your steps are measured, unhurried as you get lost in the sound around you

the bar is quiet, save for the music notes that hung in the air like the stars that hang in the sky above. dabi's leaning forward in his chair to get a better glimpse of you as you move

your dance couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes. but dabi felt like hours had passed in the time you moved from one spot on the stage to another. your features are composed entirely of bliss—a serenity dabi had never known. never seen in a person until now.

he left during your standing ovation, hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans and brows furrowed. dabi had taken the chance to leave without having to pay a dime when he saw the workers were momentarily distracted by the last few moments of your dance

but who could blame them?

dabi didn't know if you'd be back to dance again. but after an entire week passed, it was friday again. and there was a chance—though very slim, that you'd be back at the bar.

he brought money with him this time, too.

he arrived at eight-ish, same time he was there last week. taking his usual seat in the back, dabi ordered something light for tonight. he wanted to have a clear mind when you came on stage, wanted to pinpoint every shift in your expression so he can try and figure out just how someone can put so much of their heart and soul into something

because dabi could see how passionate you were. in the way your fingers curled and the way your shoulders moved and the way you spun in a manner that managed to hypnotize him

and you were there that night. and the next, and the next, and even the one after that. of course, dabi only knew this because he had been there too.

dabi's seen dancers before. but those dancers, they were lewd and irksome. he didn't like strippers, and he surely didn't like people who danced for others. he didn't like people who did anything for others.

but you danced like you were the only one in the room. some nights, dabi felt like he was intruding a special moment. you looked like you were lost in your own world, a world he was desperately beginning to want to be a part of

but you weren't up in the clouds—no, you were in the same world as dabi. because one day, you approached him. of course you recognized your reoccurring guest

dabi's voice is low as he introduces himself, his voice is low as he mumbles out something along the lines of 'you taught yourself how to dance?', and his voice is low when he mutters it—

teach me.

it was a shot in the dark—he half expected you to tell him to fuck off, or make a comment on his appearance and tell him to get lost. and dabi promised himself if you said anything of the like, he would respect your wish. he would accept your cruelty and walk out of the bar and he would never come back.

but he walks back to his shitty one room apartment with a crumpled piece of paper in between his fingertips, your cursive handwriting scribbled on it. he walks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders—he walks like he's never had the pleasure of dancing before. never had the pleasure of getting high on nothing but his own accord

he likes dancing, dabi decides. your hands are soft as you move against him, and sometimes—he allows his older self to shine through with you

he thinks of those romantic comedies he would watch with his mother as a child when he spins you. your laughter is a song all in its own, there's no need for music when you're whispering gently to him

move like this dabi—breathe in and out—yes, just like that dabi!

he dances with you in the kitchen, the only light available comes from his cheap refrigerator as the two of you navigate through the dark. he dances with you in the living room, too. and he supposes the way he holds you at night could be a form of dancing as well. his limbs move and they curl and they feel—every fiber of his being does when he's with you

dabi loves dancing. even with all the discord and confusion in his life—there was one thing he could be sure of, and it was your dancing.

[motherismotheringggg]

friends who know

summary: you and cooper are best frjends but when he comes to your apartment after a night out and failed date for you, he tells you how he really feels

type: fem! reader x cooper koch

tags/warnings: 18+, fingering, oral (f! receiving)

author’s note: there’s a shortage of cooper fic and we MUST fix this; i think i only saw this once but in case there’s a larger concern about writing cooper in hetero sex scenarios i want to say 1.) all my fics are based in alternate universes 2.) its not that deep 3.) with cooper i try to keep his sexuality open in all my fics

word count: 4482

🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕🌕

The hum of the city outside was barely audible through the thick walls of the apartment, the occasional honk of a car or distant voice muffled by the calm inside. Cooper’s steps wobbled slightly as he made his way to the door, the alcohol coursing through his veins making everything feel heavier than usual.

Each movement seemed slower than usual as if the world was spinning just a little too fast for him to keep up. He had intended to just let himself into his friend’s apartment. Since she lived closer to the bar he was coming from and she should still be on her date, they had planned for Cooper to crash at her place if he didn’t make it home. But as he fumbled with his key in the lock, his vision blurry from the alcohol, he froze when the door swung open on its own.

“It took you ridiculously long to get that, I had to help you,” you teased with a playful smirk, your voice light as you opened the door to reveal your tipsy friend. Your makeup and hair were still done from the night out. You’d swapped your date outfit for something more comfortable—a big t-shirt that fell loosely over your frame and a pair of shorts, casual and relaxed for the evening ahead.

Cooper flashed a toothy grin, his eyes squinting slightly, the kind of grin that makes his whole face light up and his mouth stretch wide. His voice was heavy with tipsiness, slurring just a little, and his gaze was unfocused like he couldn’t quite center on anything. “Oh shit, I did not expect you to be home!” he chuckled, his voice warm but thick with the alcohol.

You raised an eyebrow, looking him over with amusement. "Well I do live here," you teased, stepping aside to let him stumble past. “I texted you like 30 minutes ago saying I got back early.” You could tell by the way he was swaying slightly that he had more than just a few drinks, but despite his drunken state, something was endearing about the way he carried himself—like his carefree nature was still intact even in this slightly hazy moment.

"I can’t even tell you if I have my phone with me," he scoffed, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. But despite his wobbly state, there was a lightness to his words, a mischief in his tone that was unmistakable. His lips curled into a smile, one that reached his eyes most charmingly. As he tried to steady himself, you took a step back, allowing him into the apartment.

He made his way to the couch and crashed into the cushions with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the soft fabric like he was just too tired to fight it. There was something about him in this state, so relaxed, that made him look even more appealing, his usual confident energy replaced with a kind of laid-back vulnerability.

His messy, tousled curls fell in loose strands over his forehead, a few bits caught in his eyes as he leaned his head back. He let out a content sigh, eyes half-lidded but still looking at you with that lazy smile. His long arms rested casually on either side, his broad forearms stretching across the armrests as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The muscles in his arms were defined even through the fabric of his shirt, and the way he moved—slow, relaxed—gave off an air of lazy strength like he could melt into any space and make it his own. He was a man who commanded attention without even trying, and now, sprawled on your couch, he looked like he was taking up all the space in the room without even realizing it.

You came from the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand, twisting off the cap as you walked into the living room. Your phone was still clutched between your fingers, but you focused on Cooper first. "I ordered us a pizza, but it’s gonna take a while," you said, offering him the bottle.

You ran your hands through his hair in a comforting manner as he took the bottle. He held your hand steady on his head while taking deep gulps of water that brought him back to life. He opened his eyes and his gaze met yours. You always felt very protective of him but even in this moment, where you were taking care of him, you felt safe.

“No worries, I’ll just raid your kitchen if I need to,” Cooper joked with a grin that was goofy but still disarmingly charming. His eyes tracked your every move from behind the couch and him to plopping down next to him on the couch, a slight tilt to his head like he was trying to piece together the picture of the night. His eyes focused on you, still too tipsy to hide his curiosity, though it was endearing more than anything.

There was a comfortable silence in your apartment. You scrolled on your phone and Cooper continued to drink his water. His gulps being the only noise in the room aside from the occasional notification vibration from your phone. Cooper began to sit up and look in your direction, his eyes narrowed slightly, "What happened to your hot date?" he asked, his voice low and heavy with the alcohol, but the hint of genuine interest was there.

You scoffed, leaning back into the couch with a small huff of frustration. "Hot date?" you repeated, rolling your eyes as you took a drink of your own water you had on the coffee table "It was a hot fucking mess.”

Cooper’s eyes widened a bit as he blinked, clearly processing what you’d said. "A mess? Alright, spill!" He tapped his legs, gesturing for you to put your feet up on him. His words came out a little slower, laced with curiosity and softened by the slur of someone who’d had a few drinks. But even through the haze, there was a genuine concern behind his playful tone, a real interest in knowing exactly what had gone wrong.

You shook your head, feeling a mixture of irritation and amusement at how easily your frustration was slipping into your words. "God, he was so obnoxious," you began, putting your drink down to properly explain, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. "Loud, pushy, and worse of all…he was terrible at eating me out”

Cooper leaned in even more curious than before, you let out a sharp exhale, the frustration of the night slipping out with every word. "We went to his place and he went down on me and it was so …bad. He had no direction, no idea where my clit was and he had the nerve to keep asking me if I was close to finishing.”

Cooper let out a laugh, one that he immediately regretted, but it bubbled up before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it. “I just can’t believe he was that bad,” he said, his voice dripping with a mix of disbelief and amusement. He shook his head as if trying to wrap his mind around it, still finding it hard to believe. “Honestly, it sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

Then, with a slightly lopsided grin, his tone lightened, and he added, “You deserve a guy who's gonna treat you and eat you.” He said it with a chuckle, but as the words left his mouth, a flicker of something serious flashed in his eyes, like he hadn’t quite meant to let that much slip out. He was drunk enough for it to come out in jest, but his gaze lingered on you for a beat longer than it should have, his protective nature subtly making the comment feel heavier than the casual joke implied.

The mix of joking and sincerity hung in the air, and for a moment, the playful edge of his voice didn’t quite match the intensity in his eyes. He was too far gone to realize how true that statement felt, how much he actually meant it.

He opened his arms, gesturing for you to lean in, and you didn’t hesitate. Letting yourself settle against him, you felt his warmth and the soft, steady thrum of his heartbeat. The scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of the whiskey he’d had earlier, wrapped around you, making the room feel a little smaller, a little more intimate.

Cooper’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, and he let out a low chuckle. “We’ve shared so many hookup stories over the year and I remember a lot. His head dipped closer to yours, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I remember every little thing you said you like,” he admitted, his tone soft but sure. “I mean… I bet I could get you off, no problem.” The confidence in his voice was clear, even if he was too far gone to fully realize the weight of what he was saying.

He shifted slightly, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard, his usual playful edge softened by something deeper. His fingers brushed lightly over your arm, tracing slow, absentminded patterns as if testing the waters, letting you feel his warmth through the gentle, almost reverent touch. “I’d want to,” he murmured as if the thought had just come to him. “I’d want to do it right… make you feel good.”

His words lingered, heavy with intention, his face hovering close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what it would be like to hook up with Cooper. He’d always had this effortless charm, and he loved to talk up his own skills, claiming he could leave anyone breathless. He had a way of paying attention, too—he’d often talk about how he could read the other person’s body, letting them lead while he responded, always focused on making them feel good. The idea had crossed your mind more than once, but you’d always brushed it off. Cooper was a friend, and here he was, drunk and vulnerable.

Your hand came up to gently caress his face, thumb grazing along his cheek as you murmured, "You’re drunk," your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes with a smirk of his own. "I might be," he admitted, his voice a lazy drawl, "but I know you’ve thought about it."

He leaned back on the couch, eyes closed, that self-assured grin still tugging at his lips, and for a moment, you just watched him, the silence between you loaded with unspoken possibilities. You could feel the tension building, lingering in the space between you like an electric charge, neither of you moving, neither of you saying anything more. The only sound was the faint hum of the city outside, and the way he lay there—so casually, so confidently—only heightened the pull.

The knock at the door broke the tension, snapping you both back to reality. Flushing slightly, you got up to answer, grateful for the interruption yet already wondering what might have happened if it hadn’t come just then. When the pizza arrived, you both dove in, and as you took those first bites, the charged atmosphere seemed to ease. With each slice, the playful banter returned, and the lingering tension faded, replaced by the easy, familiar vibe that always felt natural between you.

By the time the food was gone, a warm, sleepy calm had settled in. You suggested getting ready for bed, and Cooper agreed with a lazy nod, stumbling off to the bathroom for a shower, hoping to shake off the haze of the night.

———

You were scrolling through your phone in bed when you heard the bathroom door creak open. Cooper stepped into the room, towel wrapped low around his waist, damp curls still clinging to his forehead. The soft glow of your dim bedroom lights cast shadows across his broad shoulders, drops of water gleaming on his skin as he moved. You couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him, caught off-guard by how good he looked, how real he felt right there in front of you.

His eyes met yours, and you saw the smirk tug at the corners of his lips, that familiar teasing glint in his gaze. "How do you feel?" you asked, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as you could, even though your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Better… sober," he responded with a grin, running a hand through his wet hair, his voice thick with that playful edge you’d come to know well.

He climbed into bed beside you, and the two of you settled into your usual comfortable routine, your bodies instinctively gravitating toward each other. But underneath the familiarity, a different kind of tension lingered—one you couldn’t shake. Every inch of your body was aware of his proximity, your senses heightened by the memory of what had nearly happened earlier. You figured that with how drunk he had been, Cooper had probably forgotten everything he’d said before—everything that had made the air between you so thick with unspoken words.

The silence stretched on, each second feeling longer than the last. But then, Cooper broke it abruptly, his voice low and purposeful.

"So… are we gonna act like you don’t want me to eat your pussy?" he said, smirking as he glanced at you, that familiar cocky confidence back in full force.

You shot up, utterly stunned by his boldness, your eyes wide as your mind scrambled to process what he’d just said. You opened your mouth but couldn’t find the words to respond.

Cooper, noticing your shock, leaned back against the pillows, not missing a beat. "This was bound to happen," he murmured, his tone shifting to something softer but still charged with intent. "I think you’re beautiful, I always have. And I’ve wanted to taste you for as long as I can remember. And at the very least, the very very least… you deserve to cum tonight. `You went through all the trouble of getting ready…"

His words were like a spark, setting off a flood of heat that rushed through you, igniting the tension you’d been holding back. You were still reeling from the bluntness of his words, but now you couldn’t deny what you’d been feeling—the way he made you want him, despite the years of friendship, despite the risk.

Without another word, Cooper moved closer, kissing you slowly at first, his lips pressing against yours with a soft, knowing pressure. Your body reacted instinctively, leaning into the kiss, your hands reaching up to tangle in his wet hair, pulling him deeper. He groaned softly into your mouth as his hands wandered, exploring the curve of your body, his touch making you shiver.

He pulled away just enough to murmur, "Get on top of me." The command was quiet but unmistakable, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you, waiting.

You straddled him, the motion slow, deliberate, as you slid your legs over him, settling into his lap. The kiss resumed, deeper now, more frantic, as his hands roamed over your body, tracing the lines of your curves. One of his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. The cool air hit your skin as your lacy bra was exposed, and Cooper let out a low, appreciative hum.

Without missing a beat, his face dropped to your chest, his lips brushing over the curve of your breast before he kissed a trail down toward your cleavage. The sensation of his mouth on you, the warmth of his breath, sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. He didn’t waste time, his hands following suit, his fingers sliding along the lace of your bra before he pulled it down with just enough urgency to make you gasp.

His lips found your nipple, and as he kissed and nipped at your skin, your breath hitched, and you couldn’t help but arch into him. The combination of his soft kisses and the heat building between you made it clear that neither of you were going to be able to turn back.

He continued to work on her breast, he would switch between and whatever one he wasn’t pleasuring with his teeth and tongue, he would use his fingers to lightly twist and pinch. Every touch. His hands were gentle but firm, making your skin tingle with every touch. What might have gone unnoticed with anyone else felt completely different with Cooper—his touch sending waves of warmth through your body. The simplest graze of his fingers, the way his lips moved with such intent, seemed to awaken a reaction in you that left you utterly breathless, as if every part of you was attuned to Cooper and Cooper alone. The space between you both, once so familiar, now felt charged with something new, something undeniable.

Cooper wrapped one arm around you, gently pulling you closer as he shifted positions. With careful tenderness, he laid you back on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second of the closeness between you. He hovered over you for a moment, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead before he leaned down to kiss you again, deeper this time, his mouth warm and insistent against yours.

His hand trailed down your side, his touch light yet electrifying, as if he could feel the way your body responded to every brush of his fingers. The heat between you seemed to grow, the air around you thick with anticipation. He kissed you with a quiet intensity, his lips moving against yours as if he were memorizing the feel of you, the way you fit perfectly together.

The pressure of his body against yours sent a jolt through you, his solid form pressing down on you in a way that made your heart race even faster. Every inch of his body seemed to fit perfectly against yours as if you were meant to be like this. You wrapped your arms around him, your hands struggling to meet due to the sheer width of his shoulders, the feeling of his body almost overwhelming in the best way possible.

He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze intense and unwavering. His hazel eyes locked with yours, the intensity of his stare sending a shiver down your spine. At that moment, you could see the way he took in every part of you as if memorizing the way you looked beneath him, your chest rising and falling with each breath. To him, you were beautiful, every curve, every inch of you a part of the image he had in his mind. The breathless, shaky exhale that escaped him only amplified the heat between you, the feeling of him exploring your body with his mouth still fresh on your skin.

There was a quiet tension in the air, a hunger that neither of you could ignore. The lust in your eyes matched the hunger in his, mutual desire pulsing between you both. It was as if the world outside of this moment no longer existed, leaving only the undeniable chemistry and the burning need to get closer, to feel more. Every small touch, every lingering kiss, heightened the anticipation, each of you wanting to give and receive more.

Cooper leaned in, his lips crashing against yours once again, this time with a deeper, more fervent passion. His kisses were insistent as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his hands roaming over your body with increasing urgency. His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline to your ear, where he lingered, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine.

His voice was low, husky with desire, as he whispered in your ear, the words almost a command, "Take them off." The tone was grumbly, yet full of something far more intimate—something that made your pulse quicken. It wasn’t just the words, but the way he said them, as if he knew exactly how to break down the walls between you.

As his lips worked their way down to your neck, nibbling softly, the sensation of his teeth grazing your skin left you breathless. His hands, now urgent, explored your body as though he couldn’t get enough of you. The way he touched you, moved over your skin, ignited a fire deep within. Every caress, every brush of his fingers, made you feel like you were losing control, unraveling under his touch.

You could feel the tension building between you, the weight of your friendship slowly being replaced by something far more electric, far more heated. The way his hands moved, quickly but with purpose, made you feel as if you were being pulled apart, piece by piece. You could no longer hold onto the rational thoughts in your head; everything else faded, and all that mattered was the feeling of his touch, the warmth of his body against yours.

Cooper’s kisses moved lower, his lips soft against your skin, each one sending small waves of heat through your body. His touch was gentle but deliberate, and you could feel your heart race in time with every movement. You could barely catch your breath, each kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something unspoken between you two.

As he hovered just above you, you could see the spark in his eyes, a playful yet serious glint. His gaze met yours, intense, but there was a warmth in it too—a familiarity, a promise that things would change, that they already had. His lips parted slightly as he asked, his voice smooth yet filled with a hint of something darker, “Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your body trembling with anticipation. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only a nod, your head moving with the rhythm of your pounding heart. The weight of the moment felt heavy, but not in a way that made you want to pull away. It was a feeling that had been building for a long time, a connection that was deepening in ways neither of you had anticipated.

He smiled, and the tension between you only seemed to grow as he moved lower, his kisses now tracing the outline of your thighs. You bit your lip, the sensation both teasing and maddening as he drew closer and then pulled away, leaving you wanting more. The moment stretched out, thick with longing. You could feel every inch of him—the warmth of his breath, the gentle pressure of his lips—as he moved closer but never quite touched where you wanted him.

Frustration bubbled up inside you, and you found yourself instinctively reaching for him, your hands threading through his damp hair. Without thinking, you guided him toward you, a silent plea for him to take that final step. He let out a low chuckle, a sound that vibrated through your chest, and followed your direction, his body responding to yours with the same quiet urgency.

His kisses trailed down your body, leaving a path of warmth as he moved lower, each soft smooch against your skin sending shivers just below the surface. You felt the tension slip from your body, your breath quickening as he took his time, savoring each touch, each kiss. When you finally pulled off your panties, he slid down further, aligning himself with your most sensitive spot.

The first swipe of his tongue over your folds released a moan you hadn’t meant to hold back, all the built-up anticipation unraveling in that one, perfect stroke. Cooper’s tongue moved with a skillful intent, each motion precise and unhurried, as if he was mapping every inch of you. His mouth wrapped around your clit with a tender urgency, his lips creating a gentle, pulsing suction that made your body arch toward him, every movement filled with both calm and passion. Each moan you let out only spurred him on, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as he continued, building you up slowly, expertly, until the tension inside you swelled to its peak.

Before you knew it, your body was moving instinctively, grinding in perfect rhythm with Cooper’s touch, amplifying every sensation that pulsed through you. Your breaths came in short gasps, your moans barely contained as he held you firmly, guiding you to where he wanted you. "Fuck… Cooper, that feels so good," you breathed, fingers threading through his hair, gripping tightly as he continued. Without pausing, he slid his fingers into you, each movement deliberate and deeply satisfying, his mouth still working at your heat, pushing you toward the edge.

Cooper’s hand found its way to your mouth, the same finger he just used to get you closer to your climax, he put on the edge of your lips. He didn’t even have to ask before you took the finger into your mouth and started sucking. His gaze flicked up briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before he murmured, “That’s a good girl,” the words rolling off his tongue, rough and warm.

Your breaths turned into desperate, shallow gasps, your body arching as Cooper’s grip tightened, holding you exactly where he wanted. You clutched his hair, then your breasts, each touch adding to the intensity building deep within. "Don’t stop, Cooper—right there," you pleaded, voice trembling as he focused right on that sensitive spot, his mouth and fingers working together in perfect rhythm.

The heat built into a fiery pulse radiating through you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. “Cooper, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, the words spilling out as he gave a low, approving “mhm,” the vibration adding to your pleasure as he continued relentlessly. He reached out, his strong hands clasping yours, grounding you even as your body surrendered completely.

The climax hit you like a wave, crashing over you in a rush of intense sensation. Your thighs clenched around him as your back arched, head thrown back as you cried out his name. Cooper stayed right with you, his mouth and fingers maintaining their pace as you unraveled, every nerve electrified, holding onto his hands as the release poured over you, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

Cooper pulled back and kissed up your torso, to your neck and then eventually planting a passionate final kiss on your lips. He laid next to you on his side while you were still flat on your back trying to catch your breath. He let out a low laugh watching you trying to gather yourself, “I told you I could get you there”.

[riizebabie444]

𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙪𝙥 🐚

🐚 ─── hello all i'm back with another reading, this one is about the next glow up or positive thing coming into your life! please remember to support with reblogs and feedback, and check out my paid readings if you are interested. thank you and enjoy!

🐚 ─── picking your pile: take a deep breath and allow your soul to centre itself. when you feel your mind balanced and cleared, allow yourself to be drawn to an image. your eyes may gravitate to one, or you may close your eyes and feel which image is calling out.

🐚 ─── be sure to check out my other readings and don’t forget to share and give feedback. disclaimer: all readings done are for entertainment only. please do not use my tarot readings as a replacement for legitimate advice.

🐚 ─── masterlist. paid readings. exchange rules.

donations. games/events. feedback.

pile one

cards drawn: knight of cups, nine of swords, temperance

i see you will be having a glow up in your intuition and emotions. you've long been feeling like the nine of swords, emotions that aren't always necessarily heavy but definitely present and it can get draining. your glow up will come in the form of replenishing the positive emotions and/or getting rid of these negative ones.

for example, if you have a consistent stressor, you will be dealing with it or it will be dealt with externally and you will feel relief, allowing yourself to feel more relaxed. alternatively, you will put a stop to your emotions when they react to the stress or situation or person. you will simply stop letting it affect you and choose the path your intuition is guiding you towards.

i'm seeing your literal aura growing. people will notice visibly how little your stress is, or how you are not so emotional or depressed or tired. i'm seeing literally if you've been having sleeping problems like insomnia, you will have a breakthrough and all the sleep you will be getting will be noticed. not only your mood, but your physical appearance and aura will change. it is really surprising how much a lack of sleep or stress can change your appearance and aura. however, your glow up is moving past this difficult time with patience and grace and gaining control over your emotions. you will have this glow up in emotional intelligence and regulation.

pile two

cards drawn: ace of cups, the empress, ten of wands

this glow up could come along with a new relationship or friendship. i'm seeing a number of you could be glowing up with someone else. for example, you might experience the boyfriend/girlfriend effect, when you start dating someone and have your glow up. it could also be with a friend who inspires you to express yourself more. maybe you and this person will want to glow up together.

with the empress, i see that this glow up could be regarding appearance. i'm seeing your hair, your face, clothes and style etc. if you've been working on these, you will see results soon. and i'm also seeing embracing natural features. not toning out your features to fit in with everyone else's standards, but using your features to elevate your natural beauty. i'm seeing some could also be having a religious glow up. i'm seeing covering of hair, so some may be choosing to do so for religious reasons. not to say it is for superficial reasons as glow ups can be associated like that, but in a way that makes you feel confident and brave to embrace and express your beliefs. because i personally think that also counts.

lastly i see you may be seeing a glow up in work life, or the balance between your work/school and life. this mental glow up involves you examining your responsibilities and finding a way which works for you with the best results, taking control of matters with confidence and kindess.

pile three

cards drawn: seven of swords, six of cups, three of swords

i'm seeing a lot of you who are people pleasers of all kinds. some are the kind that would bend backwards and do anything for others even if they would not return it. others are not as extreme and just have a hard time saying no. which ever type of people pleaser you are, i see your glow up coming in the form of learning to reject others and their requests.

you are realising lies, deceptions and schemes going on around you (it likely won't be this extreme for all of you). basically, i'm seeing you realise that the people around you are not treating you right and you are going to ground yourself and put yourself first. being brave and saying no and standing by it no matter how much they try to guilt trip you or make you feel bad.

yeah i really see some shitty people around you, and this glow up will do wonders for your inner child. like literally your inner child is calling to you to stop letting yourself be hurt and disrespected at the cost of making others happy. it's your turn to make you happy. you are stepping towards a period of harmony but learning to say no to what doesn't benefit you. you may have been generous and naive for a long time, hoping and seeing the best in others. but in this glow up you will realise the truth. making others happy isn't worth it if you aren't happy in the end. i feel this glow up will be a longer journey however it will strengthen you in so many ways.

pile four

cards drawn: six of wands, the hierophant rv, the artist

victory. i see some victory loud and clear and i am taking it as a sign that whatever kind of glow up or achievement you having been working towards or manifesting, this next glow up will be just that. you're going to have a milestone of some sort, this achievement that will boost your confidence and self-assurance. you will believe in yourself like never before. you will have a massive glow up in confidence.

some of you may have been drawn to pile three, these are a little similar. you will realise that you are the one you are learning for. perhaps in the past you have been around people who gave you bad advice or abused your trust in them. in some way, you are rejecting this value of trusting people you are typically supposed to trust. for example, your parents or your friend. but in fact they may have set you up for failure. but you've learned or will learn the one you must trust is yourself. all the wisdom you ask for is already within you and that is how you will see this success, this achievement. i'm getting a clear message hear that you should be careful of following sketchy or bad advice even if it comes from someone dear.

this glow up will be powerful and i think the most powerful out of all the piles because you will learn so much about your own power and capabilities. you will be in your most positive and powerful form. others may not like that but don't let them hinder you. with the artist, you are truly listening to yourself. someone who listens to others is good, but someone who listens to themselves is excellent. you will be experiencing so much power, so much confidence just from listening to your own intuition.

© riizebabie444 — all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, repost or translate my readings on any site. any act of which will be classed as plagiarism.

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (2)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, arranged engagement, violence, swearing, bullying, chauvinism, mention of injury ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She had always felt that she lacked something – mostly when she looked in the mirror and saw instead of beautiful white hair her dark curls falling over her shoulders, which she hated with all her heart. Her eyes also had no shade of the gods, no shade of the Targaryens − her brothers laughed that her facial expressions made her look like a hamster.

She once tried, in an act of desperation, to cut her hair completely, hoping that what would grow back would be in a different shade; fortunately one of her mother's servants who brought her afternoon meal snatched the scissors out of her hand, horrified, and told her mother all about it.

That evening the future queen explained to her that there was also a Baratheon line running in Targaryen blood through her grandparents, that her cousin, Princess Rhaenys, also had dark hair.

This explanation reassured her a little, but she still felt that the gods had deprived them of something, robbing them of the looks that would prove who they were.

Fortunately, they had dragons.

Her dragoness, Larax, had beautiful silver-blue scales and shimmered wonderfully in the sunlight. She was still small and was just learning to breathe fire on command, but she was doing well and was her pride.

She visited her when she sought comfort.

She watched from the sidelines the only person among them who did not have a dragon of his own, namely her uncle, Aemond, only two years older than her. She could see that although he kept up appearances under a stony face, his suffering and disappointment was far greater than hers caused by the colour of her hair.

A Targaryen with a dragon was still a Targaryen.

But what was a Targaryen without it?

When Jace bragged to her about what they had done together with Aegon and Luke, that they had given him a pig with a wings as a joke, she said they were cruel.

She couldn't believe they thought it was funny.

At first she just wanted to see how he was doing, so knowing that he spent his days alone among the books she decided to visit him.

However, it turned out that his aloof nature was due to his caution and insecurity, his readiness to defend himself, although she had never intended to attack him. When he realised that her presence had no undertone he relaxed, even allowing her to exchange opinions with himself.

"I would like to be like Rhaenys in the future." She said softly, thinking dreamily that she was described as a woman of beauty, wisdom and dignity, able to solve many things with her shrewdness, wits, care and compassion.

She heard him snort under his breath, looking at her in disbelief, as if she had said something silly.

"Rhaenys? What's interesting about her? Visenya could fight with a sword and she rode the largest dragon still alive in this world. If I had a choice, I would marry her." He said lowly, as usual pretending to be older than he was. There was pathos in his posture and in his voice – he sat upright, comfortably sprawled in his chair, creating a semblance of confidence.

She raised an eyebrow at his words, unable to hide a smile of amusement. She saw the expression of displeasure on his face, as he clearly thought she was mocking him.

"Aegon the Conqueror thought otherwise. Out of ten nights, nine he spent with Rhaenys." She said with a wince and saw that he pressed his lips together, rolling his eyes, impatient with her remark, and shrugged his shoulders, returning to his reading.

She was really fond of him.

As a very young girl, she had given a lot of her thoughts to her future husband, knowing that as the daughter of a princess she would have her tasks, one of which would be to strengthen their lineage through marriage.

The thought that she would have to marry some boring old man by whose side she would die of despair, and with whom she would have to have many children, kept her awake at night; she wished her husband was someone closer to her in age, someone who shared her values and passions.

She wondered if it wouldn't have been better if her parents had married her to Jace − she knew him and, as his sister, loved him, so it would certainly have been easier − but on the other hand, something rejected her at the thought, she felt some kind of discomfort when she imagined their future children.

This was what she was contemplating when her mother walked into her chamber, wanting to ask her her opinion on the King's decision.

She and Aemond were betrothed.

"You may refuse, my love." Said Rhaenyra, kneeling beside her on the stone floor, taking her hands in her own, fearing apparently that this information would frighten her.

For some reason, however, she was pleased.

Although she did not have beautiful white hair, her future husband did.

She ran out of her chamber, rushing into the library like a storm, the pale face of her uncle expressing shock and fear as she approached him.

"Is it true?" She asked in a trembling voice and saw that he swallowed hard as he nodded, looking at her with wide open eyes.

She covered her face with her hand, a happy giggle escaping from her lips, her heart pounding like mad.

"I'm so happy."

To her relief, it looked as if her uncle himself had no great objections to the king's decision. He began to speak to her more, introducing her to his world, even explaining what he did during his trainings, apparently recognising that as his wife she should know what his life consisted of.

She absorbed everything he said, feeling her heart flutter with joy when he was by her side.

Though she knew it was unacceptable, she dared to ask him to let her kiss him, and after he experienced the taste of her lips, he wanted her to do it more often, though he never said it out loud.

Their kisses were innocent, short, warm and wet, on the forehead, cheek or lips. Every time she pulled away from him he smiled lazily, embarrassed – she knew he liked the feeling.

They both felt so mature then.

At his request she snuck into his chamber at night − they would lie then for hours holding hands, discussing about their future, about their children.

"When I become a rider of one of the dragons living in the caves beyond the sea, we will fly to Essos, to see the temples of Old Valyria." He said with confidence and calmness, stroking her hair in a soft, slow motion that her eyelids closed from; she loved it when he did that.

He had never tried to touch her naked body, put his hand under her nightgown or do anything else that Aegon had proudly told her about, but which she did not comprehend.

She furrowed her brow at his words, worried.

"Dragons in caves?" She asked quietly, and he nodded, swallowing loudly; she knew this topic was incredibly important to him, and he hoped to gain her support on the matter.

"Yes. Once I have a dragon, everything will be as it was meant to be. We will marry in the tradition of Old Valyria, beget our heirs, and then explore the world." He said with assurance, as if he had already planned and thought it all out carefully.

She felt warm in her heart at the thought that he had included her in everything about his life, that he saw her at his side as his companion and wife.

And then it happened.

Laena's death, her funeral and the great tragedy that followed.

That night she was roused from her sleep by the shouting of guards running down the corridor – she heard their words that the prince was injured, that he needed to be taken to the maester immediately, that there had been a fight.

With a pounding heart she put on her robe over her nightgown and ran after them semi-conscious, relieved to see her brothers, all bruised but without any wounds.

She then looked at the chair and screamed, covering her mouth, wanting to somehow silence how loud the sound was − she felt someone embrace her, her mother pulled her close, stroking her head.

"He called us bastards, mother, and he stole Vhagar!" Luke whined.

Alicent shouted to Viserys that she demanded justice for her son, but the King shook his head, looking at her uncle.

His wound was all swollen and red, a scar running across his entire left cheek, his gaze directed straight at her, dulled surely by the poppy milk to ease his pain after his eye had been taken out.

She was unable to say anything, her whole body was shaking.

"Who told you such a disgusting lie?" The King asked him, and only then did he look away from her, staring at him; she could see that he hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting.

"Aegon."

Her mother wouldn't let her approach him despite her despair − she lied that she would be able to speak to him later, but it never happened.

They never spoke a word to each other again.

She wrote to him a letter in desperation, crying over it, having to pause several times, not knowing how she would convey to him what she was feeling, her childish mind unable to properly put into words what she was experiencing.

My dearest Prince,

know that my heart is torn by despair and disbelief. I pray for you and your health every day. I hope that as soon as you feel better we can meet. I am sending you books that I thought might interest you.

Your Rhaenys

She wrote this, not comprehending that the last thing on his mind now that he had lost his eye was to read, that he had torn up her letter as soon as he had read it, a lack of response from him made her feel even worse.

She felt he was blaming her and didn't know what to do, how to apologise to him so he would forgive her.

It turned out that there was no way she could do this, and the letters she sent to him in the months that followed were not met with a response.

The guards, on his mother's orders, would not allow anyone from their family to enter his chamber, guarded by Criston Cole himself, who, looking at her indifferently, informed her each time that the prince was unwell, needed to rest and would not receive visitors.

In addition to what had happened, she was heartbroken by what Luke had found out, what Jace had known for months, and what had been shouted in their faces that night.

They were bastards.

She felt even more defiant than ever before.

She had felt little when they moved to Dragonstone, when her mother had married her uncle, whom she had clearly loved forever, when Baela and Rhaena had joined their family.

They were sweet, kind and wise, taking her on long walks among the seaside cliffs, however, she was unable to bond with them.

Although officially their betrothal was never called off, it was clear that the King's resolve was no longer in force, the Queen suggested that any of Lord Baratheon's daughters would be a better candidate for her son, and this marriage would strengthen the royal army.

Instead, her mother thought that she, on the other hand, should marry one of her cousins of House Arryn, to secure their influence in the North and seal Eyrie's support for her cause once she was to become queen.

She was unable to find herself in this new reality, experiencing fulfilment and joy only during her solitary flights on her Larax, over the sea and high between the clouds.

To her surprise, her greatest support in her suffering turned out to be Daemon.

He saw her silent agony, he saw her emptiness, he saw her grief and he was able to reason with her, unlike her mother.

His mischievous, mocking nature reminded her in some ways of her uncle – as they walked for hours along the shore without any purpose and conversed, she felt she had regained at least part of her old life.

She liked him because he didn't treat her like a child, because he spoke to her about serious matters and didn't hide anything from her.

"Viserys is weak. He always has been. Your mother is making his mistakes, trying to hide Jace and Luke under her dress. She's trying to protect them from the inevitable." He said more to himself than to her, walking at her side with his hands entwined behind his back, looking off into the distance, his eyebrows arched in disapproval as they always did when he was frustrated.

She sighed heavily, agreeing with him in spirit, knowing what he meant.

Her mother was trying to protect them at all costs, her beloved boys, though the tension between Dragonstone and the Red Keep was greater than ever.

Something hung in the air and everyone felt it.

"And that bastard, that fucking traitor Hightower sits on the Iron Throne in his name and rules the kingdom, just as he always dreamed of doing." He hissed through clenched teeth, rage and disappointment beating from him, from which she felt her heart squeeze.

It shocked her how direct he was.

He was like a living, burning fire.

"When there's no cat, the mice scamper. Or maybe a better term would be rats." She said dryly, and he laughed out loud, glancing at her, his lips curving into a grin, a kind of contentment and pride in his eyes.

"You're like quiet water on the outside, but there's a great storm brewing inside you. I have heard that your would-be husband has become a fearsome warrior despite the lack of one eye. I fear that once you meet, heaven and earth will shake." He said with amusement and she swallowed loudly at his words, knowing he was mocking her.

"I have no grudge against him. Only he can have one towards me." She said lowly, pressing her lips together, feeling a tightness in her throat, thinking about how she had cried enough nights because of this event.

She felt him looking at her intently, a light summer breeze and the sound of the sea all around them, grey, gloomy clouds above them.

"You still haven't come to terms with it." He stated more than asked, and she swallowed loudly, feeling tears under her eyelids, shaking her head, unable to get anything else out.

"Sometimes it's better to rip your heart out than to let yourself be humiliated, to lose your dignity. Do you understand?" He asked, stopping, looking at her expectantly, with a kind of determination from which she felt discomfort in her stomach.

She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to behave as she should, trying not to break, but she burst into sobs as he pulled her close and embraced her, letting her pour out the grief that had been flowing inside her for years, which she didn't want to share with her mother or anyone else.

"– gods – I still love him –" She whined out breathing hard, clasping her hands on his thick tunic, his hand stroking her back comfortingly.

"The boy you loved no longer exists." He said lowly and she felt her heart stop.

A cold shiver went through her body, a wave of disappointment and the realisation that he was right.

When Vaemond Velaryon challenged Luke's right to inherit Driftmark it turned out, to her horror, that they had to appear in the Red Keep to discuss the matter before the King himself. Her mother wanted them all to travel there, as a whole family meant to support her younger brother.

She didn't have the strength for this reunion – she hadn't slept or eaten, thinking about flying on Larax at night and just running away.

But where to?

She thought in moments like this about how her uncle had said he would take her to Essos one day, to the kingdom of their ancestors, and she burst out sobbing again, hiding her face in her hands, listening to the sound of the rain falling outside her window.

The journey to King's Landing had been long and tiring for her − she landed on Larax alongside her foster sisters and brothers, her hair tied up in a long braid, a leather travelling attire on her body, more comfortable and giving her more freedom of movement.

They arrived in the Red Keep using the royal carriages; when she stepped outside she was struck by how smaller and tighter everything seemed to her.

She felt tense and looked uncertainly around, fearing she would see him somewhere, but that did not happen.

They were greeted by one of her grandfather's lords, the Queen not honouring them with her presence; they were informed where they would be sleeping and she shuddered when she heard she would be spending the night in her old chamber, feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck.

Walking through the corridors of the fortress she was hit by memories from everywhere and even though this was her home, she had never felt so foreign before.

She changed with the help of servants into a more appropriate attire – her two-tone gown had bare shoulders, her long to the ground, wide sleeves were red, and the material wrapping tightly around her breasts and hips was navy blue – the colours of the Targaryens and Arryns, her expression that she supported her mother.

She wondered if she should go outside or if it would be better to stay in the chamber, but in the end she decided that she would not be a coward, that she would not allow herself to be intimidated in her own home.

Therefore, she moved alone through the familiar corridors of the Red Keep, skirting the entrance to the library, feeling her heart beating wildly.

She heard the sound of blades crossing, saw, standing in the cloisters, crowds of people surrounding a pair of warriors apparently practising hand-to-hand combat, heard applause and sounds of admiration, recognised the faces of her brothers among them.

And then she saw him, first his white hair and then his eye patch − she felt her whole body freeze, her throat squeezed so tightly that she felt like she was going to suffocate.

He was so tall that she could see his silhouette perfectly, she couldn't believe how much the man could have changed over the years.

She saw that he had said something to Luke and Jace, the sight of their horror made him grin broadly, but it was a frightening smile, a sneer that didn't reach his healthy eye, his gaze cold, amused.

It seemed to her that she saw more animal than human traits in him, his way of moving, his gait was defiant, agile.

He looked like a predator prowling around his prey.

She thought with pain that he was terrifying.

Their attention was distracted by the sound of trumpets; the gates leading into the courtyard opened and Vaemond Velaryon appeared in it, walking at the head of his retinue. She swallowed loudly as she saw his chin raised high, as if he was sure of victory in his cause even though his brother was still alive.

She saw her uncle turn towards her and walk up to one of the servants, reaching out to him impatiently, wanting him to hand him another shield and then their gazes met.

She saw the surprise and disbelief in his healthy eye; he froze and although he took what he wanted he did not turn to face Criston.

Even from a distance she could see his nostrils moving restlessly with each of his deep breaths, as if he was trying to calm himself, his jaw clenched tightly.

She didn't know why, despite the fact that he frightened her so much, despite the fact that he never answered any of her letters, she felt like throwing herself into his arms and crying, simply to say that she missed him, that she prayed every day that she would see him again.

However, before she had time to do anything under the influence of emotion he turned and nodded at Criston, immediately attacking him with his sword which swished loudly in the air, as if he wanted to take it out on him for what he had just seen.

She decided to return to her chamber, and it was only behind the door that she burst into sobs, realising what had terrified and torn her heart the most.

Daemon was right.

The boy she loved no longer exists.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

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[sanjisboyfie]

suguru's cherished mornings

-> geto suguru x male reader -> really short sorry idk i just had to publically show how much i love him.

-> still jjk universe but the one where this babe doesnt become anakin skywalker and defect away from everyone <3333 because i like to imagine this alternate universe a LOT

his black hair sprawled over the sheets, unfortunately getting painfully pulled by you when you're still sleeping. he winces as he feels it being pressuredly pushed down onto the mattress, giving a slight tug to his sensitive scalp and affectively waking him up.

he doesn't have the heart to even be remotely annoyed or angry with you. not when you look so peaceful sleeping. not when you're so effortlessly handsome it feels almost like his heart physically stops beating at your effortless charm.

he is just that in love with you.

the way you could make doing nothing but sleeping look like art was something special only to his eye, because he was the only one that had his eye on you. or, at least, that's what he tells himself to sleep better at night (he would very much rather not think about the probably high number of individuals that also find you attractive, it'll just put him in a sour mood).

he won't wake you up. instead, he props his head up onto his palm and continues gazing at you lovingly. sure, it can be a little bit creepy, but...okay, it is just creepy, but he just loves you so much. he might pick up the book that's resting on his bedside. he'll sit against the headboard as he reads, smiling softly when you so naturally shift your body to now be hugging his legs and resting on his lap.

one hand will hold the book up for him to read whilst the other traces mindless shapes on your back.

suguru loves touching you, whether it be in the smallest grazes of his fingers or those more heated moments, he loves, loves, loves touching you. it makes him happy - genuinly.

it's his own way of grounding himself, reminding himself that you're really there with him, next to him.

his large hands will run up and down your back until you eventually wake up. the book he's reading returns back to the bedside and he immediately focuses all of his attention on you.

"g'mornin', baby," he'll gently say, shuffling to hold you in his arms and kiss the top of your head, "did you sleep well?"

a tired hum is all he gets in response, but you can still feel him smiling against your skin. you return the question, your voice gravely as you speak.

then he's pressing his face into the crevice between your neck and shoulder, humming in delight as he gets to really take you in, through all of his senses.

he has you in his arms, obviously he can see you, and the last is that he is drowning in your natural scent.

he's obsessed, at this point.

"slept perfectly, as always," when i'm beside you - that's the last part of the sentence that suguru doesn't voice, for some reason.

his arms tighten around your waist. and now you're the one carding your fingers through his hair, to sooth him and relax that tight grip on your body. he doesn't know it, but it's practically suffocating.

gently, as you predicted, his hold does loosen up and allows you to sit in his lap now without him cutting off your circulation.

"should we stay in for a little while longer, babe? are you still tired?" he asks you, but doesn't get a response. all he feels is your body comfortiably slotting in with his and the arms you had around his neck loosely falling into your lap.

"silly boy," he chuckles, finding your habits endearing and amusing. you woke up, just to get comfortable in his lap and then fall back asleep. "i love you,"

there's a low hum that comes from your chest and he takes that answer with glee. he knows you would have said it back if you had the energy or that keen awareness.

_

when the two of you finally do have the energy to get out of bed, the morning finally starts in the bathroom. you're brushing your teeth standing next to each other, suguru sometimes childishly making funny faces at you in the mirror.

you almost choked on the toothpaste in your mouth when he fulls a particularly funny face. some other mornings you're sitting on the bathroom counter with suguru comfortably standing in between your open legs. his one hand will rest on one side of your lap with the other moving the toothbrush in his mouth. that hand near your lap will sometimes go underneath your shirt and start playing with the flesh of your hips.

it sometimes earns him a warning look, which he rolls his eyes at, but eventually does pull away to please you. the other times, though, when you let his fingers dance on your skin - those times he loves.

sometime in your morning routine, one of you will get a phone call from someone in jujutsu society to call you for a mission. usually, it's you since you're not a special grade like suguru. that means you're more high in demand for lesser grade curses.

he doesn't like that, though, so he often tags along with you wherever you have to go. doesn't like being away from you for too long. it makes him angsty. makes him worried.

he wants to be there for you if anything happens. or else he wouldn't be able to live peacefully.

but on the rare mornings, you don't get beckoned for work, the two of you are lounging in your small living room. two steaming cups of coffee are on the table as suguru watches the television with you scrolling on your phone.

your legs will most likely be thrown over his lap, a subtle way of letting him touch you. his hands will always find the skin of your ankle and calf to caress, going up and down your leg as if he was trying to lull you to sleep again.

he may or may not actually be trying to do that too, he wants you to stay here with him and only him for a while longer. and when you're sleeping, you're doing just that. it's his own little secret, though, as he'd never confess these underhanded methods he uses to monopolize your time and attention.

and its usually at times like that: the light pouring in through the opened window, the cups of steaming coffee in front of you two, that skin to skin contact, when suguru feels the most thankful for having you.

you make the mundane mornings something worth living through. he doesn't have to struggle and find reason to get out of bed, not when he has you there to hold his hand through the motions of it. you make his life exciting and he loves you dearly for all that you unknowingly do for him.

"hm, love you, [name]," he'll say out of nowhere.

it makes your head lift up from the couch cushion and away from your phone screen. he catches your e/c eyes with his own, smiling softly at your adorable face.

"love you too, suguru, always," you easily respond, sitting up to kiss his cheek and leaving a lingering scent of coffee on his skin.

but he doesn't wipe it away, he never would.

you collpase back onto the couch cushion into your comfortable position and suguru can't help but note how homey you look.

he loves when he gets to spend his mornings with you because those are the best parts of his day.

the mundane turned special in its own way, all thanks to you and the love he has for you in his heart.