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suguann · 2 months

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an. part two of this | masterlist

You tell him you broke up with your boyfriend while he’s away for work, bunked up in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with shit reception, hearing your words as clear as day as if they weren’t the chopped-up version coming through his burner phone.

“It just…didn’t work out.”

It didn’t work out.

He pretends his stomach doesn’t pleasantly twist because he’d expected it to happen eventually. He’s not happy about it—although it does make the desert heat more bearable in his heavy tactical gear—and tells Soap to fuck off when he comments on it.

It was a one-time fuck because Simon doesn’t date. He’s tried in the past before he met you—the flowers, the late-night dinners—but with him being gone almost every other month (sometimes longer, shorter if he’s lucky), it never works out in the end. Sleeping with you twice would fall under that category, the quasi-relationship kind, and make everything messier than it needs to be.

Just some fun, no strings, those are the words he promised.

If only he believed them.

He does, for all of two weeks until he’s home again, and it’s summer, so you’re wearing a flowy dress that shows off the long expanse of your legs.

(He’s a goner—not even sure why he tried to think otherwise.)

That one time he’d promised turns into a second, both of you stumbling into your apartment after a night out. The music from the pub still thumping loudly underneath your floor as he pushes you against the front door, hands in your hair—on your waist, underneath your skirt, down your thigh to hitch it over his waist—teasing your mouth open with a swipe of his tongue across your bottom lip.

You make this delighted little noise in the back of your throat, arching into him, and his hand spans down your stomach, beneath your underwear, to nudge your messy clit with his knuckle, wanting to hear all the sounds you make now that he has you alone.

A whiny cry of his name rewards him—jeans tightening around his waist at the sound—when his fingers go down, down until they press against your tight little hole, one finger pressing inside slowly. "If I make you cum, I get to fuck you here.”

You smile prettily, and it disarms him. “If you make me cum, you can fuck me however you want.”

Neither of you makes it to the bed, falling asleep on the living room floor instead, the blanket from the couch draped haphazardly over both of you with his arm curled over your waist.

That night had been a slip of judgment, a product of wanting something warm and soft after several months of only having his hand for company.

It happens again and again, and he keeps letting it happen until there’s no more hiding under the guise of just fun because it somehow turns into a lot more than that.

Simon can’t explain how it happens—maybe becoming something he can touch and hold and think about often—but he finds himself in an exclusive relationship with you that isn’t exactly a relationship because he’s unsure of the ins and outs that they entail.

(Always has been.)

His father was a shit role model, and it was always easier finding someone new who didn’t know his name or care about his scars and only wanted a nice fuck. There had never been any point in shooting for something serious when it was always out of the question for him, until now, that is.

He takes you to that over-rated restaurant overlooking the Thames Marcus never brought you to. A picture of you and him with the sunset in the background—your smile almost blinding in the photo—becomes his home screen, and he finds he doesn’t care when Soap has something to say about it.

He lets you do nonsensical shit, like buying small plants for his house that are surely going to die from him being gone before he comes up with the great idea to give you a key. It’s just a key.

(It’s more than just a key.)

Simon finds himself asking if he can come over more often throughout the week, which slowly moulds and shifts into nights filled with things other than sex—sleeping after a long day of work, cuddling on the couch, cooking together, going to the movies—he doesn’t try to make a big deal out of it because you used to hang out all the time without sex.

(Somewhere, there’s a but in there.)

There’s still no label to whatever this is, and he wonders if you want him to be the first to say the thing you’ve both been dancing around for a little over…he can’t remember, but he knows it’s been long enough for your things to mix in with his at his house.

Be with me because I’m yours, and you’re mine, that’s what he’s trying to say, and it’s never the right time. Men like him—a little broken, rough, and jagged around the edges sharp enough to cut—aren’t good with words like that.

(That’s what he thought.)

If he hadn’t seen you talking to a guy at the pub, eyes crinkling in that same sweet way whenever Simon makes you laugh, he wonders if he would’ve been the first to break from the start. He knows it’s your job as a bartender to be nice, but his jaw clicks at the sight of the guy leaning over the bar and into your space, almost too close.

The feeling doesn’t go away until he has you spread out on your mattress under him—clothes haphazardly peeled out of the way for him to put his mouth on you—your lips pursed tight around two of his fingers to give you something to focus on as his other hand works between your thighs, pressing down on your tongue when gurgled little sounds slip out.

He teases you with a small, pink vibrator he found inside your bedside table, your legs kicking out and toes curling into his calves.

“Mine. This is mine, love,” he groans, pressing you further into the bed with his weight. “Do you understand?”

You nod, tears pearling and leaking from the corner of your eyes.

“Lemme cum,” you whine, words muffled. “Simon, I want to cum. Please.”

He won’t lie that he’s close after jerking into his fist to the sight of you writhing on the sheets—swears he can feel his heartbeat throbbing against the back of his fingers—takes in your surprised expression when he pushes forward, impaling you on the first few inches of his cock.

His stomach twists from the squeal that escapes your throat, and fuck, your cunt, so hot and tight with little pulses that drive him crazy, only growing tighter when he turns up the speed on the vibrator.

“‘Mm, gonna cum. I’m—”

He grits his teeth as you start to flutter around his cock once he’s rooted inside you. “Go on—fuck—go on, love. Let me feel it.”

You look so perfect like this, like a dream: lips parted into an enticing little O with his name tumbling out in breathy mewls, tits hanging out from the bra he shoved to the side, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“So fucking pretty.” He kisses your throat, panting into your sweat-slick skin, and it’s not long before he’s falling over the edge with you.

Next time, he’ll have the courage to tell you: that you’re not someone he calls for a meaningless fuck on the weekend, that Simon misses you when he’s gone and can’t wait to come home, that he wants to try with you—except not when he’s balls deep and trembling inside your heavenly cunt.

But the smile he feels against his shoulder makes him think that maybe…

Maybe you already know.

#simon riley smut #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod smut #cod imagine #cod x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #ghost smut #.things i write

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yuukimiyas · 11 months

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this was the longest day ever i'm so sleepy ૮₍ ˃̵͈᷄ . ฅ ₎ა but other than that my day was p good! & i had a lot of positive interactions with some of the people that come into my work & it was v nice! ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა giving you all a huge smooch!! i hope that this tues was super kind to you all!! <;33

#this sweet couple commented on my vocabulary when i gave them a rec & asked if i was a writer & i was like 'i hope someday!!' ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა #it was so super nice!!! & then this fam of 4 was so sweet when getting cards for their kids & they were so cute!!! <33 #it's lil stuff like this that help make working with the public more bearable!! i love when people are kind!!#i am ab to pass out from being the sleepiest girl in the whole world & i'm so cozy!! cuddled up!! the comfiest!!#with lover boy by my side and everything!! ૮꒰๑´ ᵕˋ๑꒱ა g'night dash!! ilyasm!! sleep tight!! <33 #ᕱ⑅ᕱ.* journals!

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notefromunderground · 1 year

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#its sad that i can already tell from how i think about things that i am not gonna have an easy life at all #i am not good at any kind of relationship i am too sensitive i take everything personally #and even though i know about this i cant change them i feel everything intensely #everything little thing hurts me and makes me want to give up i am not resilient at all #full of anxiety constantly and therefore a difficult person to be around with #i dont know how i expect anyone to want to be with me when i there are times i dont even wanna be with me #like i just want to k*ll my mind my thoughts my character and turn myself into someone else so that i can be bearable to myself #anyways i am sorry about the vent i am gonna stop now i am just so deeply disappointed and angry with myself #i have ruined every friendship that i have ever had and every chance at a relationship i have ever gotten #i hate myself so fucking much

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nocturna-iv · 3 months

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You're a loser, baby~

I love the level of detail in "Loser, baby" on a narrative level and how much it can tell us about HuskerDust. Husk didn't want to go after Angel; Charlie sent him. But at that moment, when the mask began to fracture, Husk extended his hand to the real Angel.

The smile? Husk has a plan. The kind of plan that involves pure nihilism and stopping self-judgment so Angel knows he's not alone. Husk doesn't need to do this, but he already knows the real Angel (when he's drunk) and likes him. So, Husk is offering the real Angel his company.

Angel is waiting for the typical “everything is going to be fine” talk. How many times has he heard it? Cuddles, hope, and light But Husk surprises him by treating him like an equal, someone who won't break. Obviously, it bothers Angel, and he gets defensive. Is this guy kidding?

The same guy who was annoyed by Angel's presence is now all over him, with the most pretentious smirk in the universe, calling him a LOSER (and baby). Angel is so confused by the turn of events.

So, obviously, Angel thinks Husk is playing with him. His face says it all! And Husk is still all over him, telling Angel the truth.

In this part, Husk shares his insecurities. Yes, there was a time, but the pain is still there. And from what he's gotten to know Angel, Husk feels like they could connect there. “You are not alone” goes both ways.

Husk manages to get Angel to open but does it with sarcasm. At this point, Angel doesn't think anyone is going to accept him as he is. So, he says something that many know: his contract with Valentino, who has a dangerous reputation. That's the opening Husk was looking for.

This part isn't Husk making light of Angel's situation. He's making it clear to Angel that he's not “unique”, that is, he's not alone. His suffering is not something that separates him from others. Husk is breaking into Angel's self-isolation due to his abusive relationship.

Obviously, Angel doesn't believe him. Years of abuse made it clear to him that no one is going to care for the real Angel. But he's indulgent with Husk, playing along, visibly skeptical, wanting to know where this is all going.

And Husk takes him by surprise again. He is gentle, guiding Angel, giving him space, always offering his hand. It's a fun dance for two. They are both losers. Husk isn't insulting him. He is telling him that it's okay to make mistakes. They both have done it.

So Angel decides to trust. Just a little. Because he knows how people react when they know who he is. Angel is barely singing, not fully entering the song.

And when Husk tells him that he's fine with Angel being like that, it's liberating. Angel sings, there is a crack in his voice, because he is having fun! He is not acting, he is being sporadic and exaggerated, almost a parody of his flirtatious mask.

Now it is Angel who seeks out Husk, recognizing him as the one who can understand him and is liberating! And Husk reaches him, reminding Angel that they're in all of this together. And Angel smiles. A big and real smile.

Husk shares his addictions to give Angel the opportunity to share his in a safe space. And now Angel sings with all his potential, being himself and having fun. And Husk reaffirms him. This is Angel, the real Angel that Husk met when Angel was drunk.

And that is the theme of the song. Embrace who you are and don't be ashamed. Take every self-destructive comment, dirty insult, and don't let them sink you. Say "So what?", it's you, you're fine, you're good.

Accept your mistakes, your failures, your flaws, and stop being your own enemy. It's hard to escape, but there is someone who understands you, and you aren't alone. Existence sucks; bite it with a smile!

And that's the point. Things aren't magically going to get better. The problems are not going to disappear. Life sucks, but you're not alone. The burden doesn't disappear, but it may be more bearable.

Angel is the one who comforts Husk, telling him that yes, existing is difficult, but he's not alone. He has him. And for Husk, that's something. The song is about them, after all.

And Husk tells him that maybe he and Angel can be losers and find happiness.

And now it's Angel who offers Husk his hand. Now it's Husk who puts his hand on Angel's. And Angel can't erase his surprise and smile.

Now Angel is the one accompanying Husk. Angel's voice becomes an instrument that follows Husk in harmony. The fun dance of two returns, but Angel includes his style. Husk no longer has to guide him.

They both reach for each other. Husk extends his hand almost at the same time as Angel, with his eyes closed, extends his.

And in the end? They both support each other, literally and symbolically. They are equals. Husk and Angel meeting in the middle. The real Angel being accepted by Husk.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin angel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust

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satoruoo · 5 months

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Can I make a request? 🥹 Gojo being dumb, mistaking your period cravings, sickness and getting bloated as reader being pregnant 😂

✦°. JUMPSCARE - gojo satoru

"babe, you don't look too good. everything okay?"

satoru watches you closely as you look up from your phone. you're curled in an odd position on the couch, shifting your legs every few minutes in a weak attempt to soothe the pain bubbling just below your abdomen.

if you're being honest, the discomfort was relatively merciful with you today. the seizing, sharp waves of pain that usually rendered you immobile for a few agonizing seconds were duller, so it was bearable.

you hum, the sound seeming to alleviate satoru's worries by the way his shoulders loosen.

"i'm okay, toru," you assure him, smiling up at your unnecessarily tall boyfriend. "could use some fried chicken right now though."

he blinks, jeweled cerulean eyes brightening as the worry seeps out of him entirely. he straightens, raising a singular toned arm to salute you with a grin.

"stay right there, princess!"

you're about to ask what that means, but before you can, satoru disappears from sight. you huff a short laugh and return to the weather app on your phone. leave it up to your lover, gojo 'the strongest sorcerer' satoru to teleport to KFC to bring you, his beloved girlfriend, some fried chicken.

• . ☆° ✦. °.

satoru idly bounces on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waits in the ridiculously long queue for his order.

concerned by your strange actions recently, a part of him still feels anxious. your peculiar desire for fried chicken over the last few days has led him to worry, not to mention his fifth visit to KFC in four days.

when he really thinks about it, you'd complained multiple times this week about your nausea but you'd assured him you were fine. he didn't believe that for a minute, of course, and insisted he stay within 3 meters of you in case something happened.

weird.

satoru smiles as he takes his order from the worker, thanking her politely before turning to exit.

you'd whined about being bloated too, he often found your hand cradling your stomach as your face contorted in pain momentarily. he'd been at your side immediately, kissing your face while you breathed through the discomfort.

really weird.

he briskly makes his way out of the double doors, flashing a pearly white smile at a nice-looking pregnant lady as he leaves.

huh. pregnant.

his steps slow down.

satoru turns around again, ocean eyes fixated on the male who gently helps the woman up the steps with a smile that somehow says excited to be a father.

the world seems to stop turning for a second, the eight letters that spell pregnant lighting up like glowsticks in his head. pregnant. the word bounces around in his head, ricocheting off the bone and making a home for itself in the tissue of his brain.

being bloated. the nausea. the cravings.

there was no way. well, there was a way, he can name at least twelve separate occasions in which he'd had you sprawled out under him, moaning his name as he panted into your ear like a bitch in heat during the last month.

satoru genuinely thinks he's been reborn on the spot, a new kind of euphoria surfacing in his brain.

(until some stupid rat-ass kid slams into his legs and he's kicked back into reality.)

he doesn't think he's ever teleported faster in his life.

• . ☆° ✦. °.

when he gets home, you've relocated to the bed. you're lying on your front, swinging your legs in the air as you paint your nails a sky blue.

(one time you unintentionally painted your nails the same colour as satoru's eyes and he never shut the fuck up about it. you now unconsciously paint your nails that colour. satoru swoons over it at every chance he gets.)

you hear the door slam downstairs, signaling satoru's return. he'd taken a bit longer than usual, and you turn to face him as the bedroom door flies open.

"toru, baby, what have i told you about slamming doors? this is the third time you've.." you trail off, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend who's heaving, presumably from running up the stairs.

"what the fuck is wrong with you-"

"baby!" satoru cries, throwing your precious fried chicken to the floor as he kneels next to the bed. he takes your non-painted hand and holds it close to his heart, ignoring your curses at him over the food.

"why didn't you tell me?!" he whines.

your face only twists in further confusion. what on earth was he talking about?

"huh? what're you-"

"there's no need to hide it, my love. i already know!"

you blink, propping yourself up on your elbows as you eye him suspiciously. you're aware of his tendency to be dramatic, but you'd never seen him like this before.

you cock your head to the side, "know what?"

"about the, y'know," he says, getting close to your ear and whispering, "the baby."

baby? what baby? as far as you were aware, the only baby in this household was the large man-child wailing about something or other at the side of the bed.

"did you hit your head or something?" you ask genuinely.

satoru has to resist melting into your hold when your hands come to cup his face, checking him over for some kind of injury or fever. you find evidence of neither, so you pull back, eyebrows furrowing.

"no! i'm talking about our baby."

your mouth falls open in surprise. did you get pregnant without knowing?? that was impossible, you were literally on your period. and if that was the case, the only person who could be pregnant was...

"toru...." you start seriously, face hardening, "are you pregnant?"

satoru chokes on his own saliva. him??? pregnant?????? his eyes widen and practically fall out of their sockets as you double over in laughter, clutching your stomach and pressing your face into the pillow. clearly, you find this entire situation fucking hilarious.

when your laughter finally subsides and satoru has physically put his eyes back where they belong, you speak again, "no but seriously babe, what are you talking about?"

he pouts, climbing into bed with you and pulling you on top of him. he runs his fingers gently up the skin of your arm, tracing shapes and patterns as he tries to find his words.

"aren't you pregnant?" he asks quietly. "y'know, with all the nausea and the bloating and the cravings?"

you smile into the crook of his neck, partly moved by his genuine thought process no matter how fucked up and wrong it was.

"no, toru, i'm just on my period." you answer into his skin.

"oh."

satoru feels positively stupid, feeling his cheeks burning. he was fully prepared to be a father, he'd also debated pulling out that engagement ring that he'd been putting off giving you for a while.

you bury yourself deeper into his hold, sighing happily as his strong arms pull you flush against him.

"is this your way of telling me you want kids?"

his muscles tense in response to the question. a yes then, it seemed.

"kids would be nice, i guess," satoru mumbles, trying to downplay the excitement simmering in his core. you're experienced though, so you see right through him.

you simply hum in response, opting to press a sweet kiss to the junction of his neck as an answer. he grins lazily, kissing the top of your head affectionately as your breaths even out, indicating your movement into dream land.

maybe, just maybe some part of satoru wanted kids, and maybe, just maybe, one day that'd happen.

(he gets sent on another errand when you wake up to get twice the amount of fried chicken because of his carelessness with the last batch.)

BONUS:

"i blame you for this."

"what!? this is not my fault! i mean yeah, i might have stuck my dick into you a couple times these past few weeks but still-"

"would the both of you get the fuck out?" shoko's voice interrupts as she hands you back the positive pregnancy test, "you two act like an old married couple."

"yeah well my husband over here has some weird psychic powers," you retort, flipping satoru off with a scowl, "because guess who's pregnant after he accused me of being pregnant a month ago!?"

he grins, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "i'm just so great that i have the ability to predict the future too."

"can you look into the future and see if you two ever get the fuck out?" shoko asks tiredly, sinking further into her chair.

satoru grins, kissing your cheek sweetly and laying his head on your shoulder, "nah, i can't see that happening."

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godsfavdarling · 1 month

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How could you?

my masterlist, part 2

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader (established relationship)

words: 2,3k

summary: You go to Spencer's apartment, only to witness a shocking betrayal that shatters your world.

warnings: angst, hurt, spoilers for season 15!

a/n: this was one of the ideas for the later chapters of my full story 'Keep Holding On' (completed and available here), but there wasn't really a place for it. so, I decided to just make it into a one-shot with a gender-neutral reader!

You and Spencer have been together for a few years now, your relationship a patchwork of late-night conversations, lazy weekends spent on a couch with books, and long nights in each other's arms.

Although his job isn't easy and you don't get him to yourself as much as you'd like to, you wouldn't change a thing. He and the love you share mean everything to you.

In the quiet moments when you're alone, you find yourself marveling at how unexpected and yet perfectly fitting your love story is. You never thought this could happen to you.

You never let yourself believe that there would be a man like Spencer loving you and accepting every fiber of your being.

Spencer's presence in your life is like a gentle breeze on a hot summer's day, soothing and comforting. His unwavering support and understanding make even the toughest days bearable. And when he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, you feel a sense of belonging that you've never known before.

You cherish the simple moments shared over cups of coffee in the morning or stolen kisses in the middle of the day. In Spencer's eyes, you see a reflection of your own hopes and dreams, and in his laughter, you find the melody of your heart's desires.

As you drift off to sleep each night, nestled in Spencer's embrace, you offer a silent prayer of gratitude for the love that fills your days and the warmth that fills your heart.

In him, you've found not just a partner, but a kindred spirit, a soulmate who completes you in ways you never knew were possible. And for that, you will always be thankful.

There's an unspoken language that exists only between you and Spencer. It's a language of love, trust, and understanding that transcends words.

You marvel at how effortlessly Spencer seems to know what you need, even before you do. His intuition is uncanny, his gestures of affection tender and sincere.

Whether it's a simple touch on the small of your back as he passes by or a reassuring squeeze of your hand when you're feeling uncertain, Spencer has an innate ability to make everything feel right.

You trust him with your deepest fears, your wildest dreams, and every fragile piece of your heart.

In his arms, you find sanctuary from the chaos of the outside world, a safe harbor where you can be your truest self without fear of judgment or rejection.

And as you navigate the challenges of life together, you're constantly reminded of just how perfect Spencer is in your eyes. His kindness knows no bounds, his patience infinite.

But it's not just his virtues that make him perfect; it's the way he loves you, wholly and unconditionally. In Spencer, you've found a partner who sees you for who you truly are, flaws and all, and loves you all the more fiercely because of them.

Now as you climb the stairs to Spencer's apartment, your heart flutters. Spencer has just started his 30 days of obligatory sabbatical, and you're looking forward to spending more time together now that his only obligation is his teaching job. You've picked up takeout on the way, eager to share a quiet evening together.

But as you open the door, your excitement turns to shock and disbelief.

There, before you, is Spencer, locked in a passionate embrace with JJ. Her hands are cupping his cheeks, their lips pressed together in a kiss that sends a jolt of pain through your chest.

Time seems to stand still as the bags of food slip from your fingers, crashing to the floor with a dull thud. You can't tear your eyes away from the scene before you, the weight of betrayal crushing down on you like a ton of bricks.

A thousand thoughts race through your mind, each one more painful than the last.

How could Spencer do this to you? How long has this been going on? And most importantly, how could you have been so blind to the truth?

Your heart feels like it's been ripped from your chest, shattered into a million pieces by the revelation before you. The love and trust you once shared with Spencer now lay in ruins at your feet, leaving you feeling empty and alone in a world that suddenly seems cold and indifferent.

As Spencer and JJ finally break apart, their eyes widening in shock at your sudden appearance, you feel a surge of anger rising within you. But beneath the anger lies a deep well of hurt and sadness, a pain that cuts to the very core of your being.

Without a word, you turn on your heel and flee from the apartment, tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggle to make sense of the betrayal that has shattered your world.

Everything spins around you in a blur of tears and confusion, you turn and run down the stairs, desperate to escape the pain and betrayal that threaten to consume you.

Each step feels like a marathon, your legs heavy with the weight of sorrow and disbelief.

But just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, your vision swimming with tears, you stumble, your foot catching on the edge of a step. You plummet forward, the ground rushing up to meet you with terrifying speed.

In that split second before impact, a pair of strong arms wraps around you, pulling you back from the brink of disaster. You gasp in shock and relief as Spencer catches you, his grip firm and steady.

For a moment, you cling to him like a lifeline, your body trembling with the force of your emotions.

You can't breathe, can't think, can't comprehend the enormity of what has just happened.

As you collapse onto the stairs, your sobs echoing in the empty stairwell, Spencer kneels beside you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration.

He reaches out to touch you, but you flinch away, unable to bear the thought of his hands on your skin.

"Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't what you think. I didn't...I didn't do anything."

But his words fall on deaf ears as you struggle to make sense of the chaos swirling inside your head.

How could Spencer betray you like this? How could he let someone else touch him in that way?

As the truth begins to dawn on you, a wave of anger washes over you, hot and relentless. You push yourself away from Spencer, your chest heaving with the effort to draw breath.

"Don't," you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't touch me."

But Spencer refuses to give up, his eyes burning with determination as he reaches for you once more. "Please," he begs, his voice raw with emotion. "Let me explain. It wasn't me. It was her."

You place a trembling hand on your chest, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggle to catch your breath.

"How could you?" you utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words heavy with accusation and pain.

Spencer's eyes are full of anguish as tears well up in his eyes. He reaches out to you, his hand hovering in the air between you, a silent plea for forgiveness that you're not sure you're ready to grant.

But before you can respond, JJ appears at the top of the stairs, her mouth open as if she's about to say something. But then, with a quick shake of her head, she closes her mouth and walks past the two of you without a word.

You stare after her in disbelief, your mind reeling with confusion and hurt.

You struggle to make sense of the situation. You knew of the hostage situation with JJ and how she had professed her love for Spencer. But you also remember how Spencer immediately came to you, confessing everything and reassuring you of his love for you.

He spent the whole night telling you every detail of what happened, assuring you that his heart belonged to you and you alone. He made it clear that you were the one he loved, not JJ.

So what happened? How could he be kissing her now, after everything he said and everything you've been through together?

With a shaky breath, you push yourself up from the stairs, your muscles tense with the effort to contain the storm raging within you. You want to flee, to distance yourself from him and the shattered remnants of your trust.

But before you can take a single step, Spencer's voice cuts through the tumultuous haze of your thoughts, pleading with you to stay. His words are a desperate plea for understanding, for a chance to explain the inexplicable.

"Please," he implores, his voice cracking with emotion. "Don't leave. I need to explain. I swear, it wasn't what it looked like. You have to believe me."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to escape and the need for answers. Despite the overwhelming pain coursing through your veins, there's a part of you that still craves the truth, no matter how agonizing it may be.

You groan loudly, the weight of the situation bearing down on you like a leaden blanket. Your mind races with a million questions, each one more painful than the last.

But for now, you're too overwhelmed to process anything.

With another loud groan, you turn and begin to make your way back upstairs, your steps heavy with exhaustion and despair.

You can feel Spencer's eyes boring into your back, his silent plea for you to stay echoing in the empty stairwell.

As you reach the top of the stairs, you don't look back, you enter the apartment and your only thought is to find a moment of solace in the solitude of the bathroom.

With trembling hands, you shut the door behind you, the click of the lock a final barrier between you and the chaos that threatens to consume you.

And as you sit there, trembling and broken, you realize that there's something about Spencer, something in the depths of his eyes that compelled you to stay, to hear him out.

It's a trust that runs deeper than words.

As you emerge from the bathroom after a few minutes, the weight of the silence between you and Spencer hangs heavy in the air.

You find him on the couch, his leg shaking uncontrollably, his fingers fidgeting nervously. His face is etched with worry and pain, mirroring the tumult of emotions raging inside you both.

He gave you space, just as he always did. It's one of the things you've always admired about him, his ability to recognize when you needed time to process and heal.

But now, as you sit in the armchair nearby, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you can't help but feel the need for answers, for some semblance of understanding in the chaos that surrounds you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Spencer speaks. His voice is hoarse with emotion, the words tumbling out in a rush as if he's been holding them back for far too long.

"She just showed up," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Out of nowhere, she started talking about how she loves me and how she was stupid for ignoring it for so long. She said she couldn't pretend anymore..."

You listen in stunned silence, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. So it wasn't Spencer who initiated the kiss, it was JJ.

But why?

As Spencer continues to speak, his words are a desperate attempt to make sense of the madness that has engulfed your lives, you find yourself drawn to him, to the vulnerability etched into every line of his face.

Despite the pain and betrayal that still lingers between you, there's a part of you that can't help but empathize with his plight.

As Spencer falls silent, his eyes searching yours for some sign of forgiveness or understanding, you find yourself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

Hurt, betrayal, and confusion war with a lingering sense of empathy and love for the man sitting before you.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart and collect your thoughts. "Spencer," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know what to say."

His eyes widen in anticipation, his expression a mixture of hope and fear. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice laced with regret. "I know I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I need time," you finally say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need time to process everything, to figure out where we go from here."

Spencer nods solemnly, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you."

With a heavy sigh, you push yourself up from the armchair, your limbs feeling like lead. "I'm going to go," you say, your voice barely a whisper. "I just... I need some space."

Spencer nods, his gaze following you as you make your way to the door. "I'll be here," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. "I love you."

You pause in the doorway, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice choked with emotion.

And with that, you step out into the cool night air, the weight of the world heavy on your shoulders.

As you make your way home, you can't help but wonder will it ever be the same between the two of you?

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slut4thebroken · 2 months

Text

Stress Relief

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Cillian Murphy x reader

Summary | Holidays with your family are hard, but Cillian makes it a little more bearable.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, sexual content, large age gap (unspecified), fluffy ish smut, oral (kind of), praise, a lil degradation, kissing, fingering, I need him to talk me through it 😭

Words | 3.6 k

Notes | Pretend I posted this 2 months ago💀🤫 Also wow- first /not/ dark smut in a while I think skdhdk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

With a heavy sigh, you flopped down onto the bed as he looked through his luggage.

“Just a few more days.” You said through a breath.

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” You grunted out an acknowledgement, keeping your eyes closed and not moving. You heard him chuckle, then your shoes were being taken off. “I can’t tell if I make things better or worse by being here.”

“Better. Definitely better.” You sighed and he unbuttoned your pants before pulling them down your legs.

“I’m not sure they like me very much though.” He was saying it like a joke, but you knew he didn’t like the fact that most of your family disapproved.

“I don’t care.” You muttered. When he pulled your torso to slip your sweater off, you whined in displeasure. He dressed you in your sleep shirt, then lifted you to carry you over to your side of the bed and lay you back down. If your family saw this, they’d probably understand. But he’s always been a perfect gentleman— polite, kind, respectful. You didn’t get why his age overshadowed all of that. When your eyes fluttered open, you turned your head to the side to watch him change into his pajamas, then he was pulling the covers back and joining you.

“Thank you for being here.” You said softly, turning on your side to face him. He gave you a warm smile and brushed your hair away from your face.

“I just hate seeing how stressed you get.” He murmured, gaze trailing all over your face.

“You help a lot. More than you know.” You returned the smile and placed a hand on his arm. He stared at you for a moment, then reached behind himself to turn off the lamp.

“C’mere.” He said quietly, pulling you into him. He placed a gentle kiss on your head and you buried your blushing face in his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. After a while, he started trailing one hand up and down your arm, relaxing you even more. That is… until his hand started straying to your hip.

“Not here.” You whispered. It took every ounce of self restraint you had to gently bat his hand away, but he was undeterred.

“You can be quiet.” His hand was gripping your hip now, teasing the fabric of your underwear.

“Cillian, you can literally hear everything in this house.” As if to emphasize your point, you heard a cough come from one of the rooms.

“Then don’t make any noise, baby.” He pushed you onto your back and started kissing the side of your neck as his warm hand rubbed your stomach, beneath the shirt. You let out a pleased sigh and tilted your head to give him more room, making him chuckle quietly. He suddenly moved his hand down, beneath your underwear, and swiped his fingers through your slit.

“Christ.” He whispered, making you whine from embarrassment, but he quickly shushed you, reminding you to be quiet.

“Cillian.” You said through a breath. You brought a hand up to grip his bicep, but you didn’t try to pull him away. His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clit and he gently nipped at your neck. You wanted nothing more than for him to suck the skin into his mouth, mark you as his… but you knew that would only make things worse between him and your family. When you whined quietly, he seemed to pick up on what you were thinking because he pushed your shirt up your body to kiss your chest, leaving a few marks.

His free hand suddenly covering your mouth almost made you moan, but his fingers slipping inside was what actually made the sound come out. He pressed down harder, trying to muffle your sounds even more. You breathed heavily through your nose as he slowly curled his fingers inside you. Scrunching your brows, you stared at him with wide eyes and shook your head beneath his hand.

“Let me be your stress relief, baby.” He whispered, starting to move his fingers a little faster now. You whimpered quietly, his words and actions making you melt.

Your hips were squirming against his hand now, trying to get more from what he was giving you. He leaned back down and softly kissed your jaw, then worked his way down your neck, stopping just below your ear.

“Can you be quiet?” He whispered, breath fanning your ear, and you nodded even though you didn’t believe it. The second he removed his hand, his face was going back into your chest, this time paying attention to your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat and you brought your hands up to his hair when he sucked your nipple into his mouth.

“Cillian..” You whispered, hips grinding against his hand.

“Shh, baby. No sounds.” He said softly, barely pulling away enough to speak. Once he deemed your nipple hard enough, he moved to the other one to give it the same treatment. “Good girl.” That made you whine and pull harder on his hair. You bit your lip until it hurt, trying to keep the sounds in. But when his fingers sped up and the heel of his hand started stimulating your clit, you knew you couldn’t do it.

“I can’t— I can’t.. fuck.” You whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and putting all of your focus into staying silent.

“You can.” He kissed up your chest and neck until he reached your face. “Let me make you feel good, baby.” You opened your eyes when you felt his breath fanning your lips.

“This door doesn’t even lock.” You protested weakly.

“All the more reason to stay quiet.” Before you could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed softly. His fingers slowed into a gentle curling motion, not trying to bring you closer to the edge yet. When you snaked a hand down his stomach, he broke the kiss and gently pulled your hand away. “This is just about you, love.” He explained, making you frown.

“But,”

“None of that.” He scolded softly. “Anything I do with my cock, you won’t be able to stay quiet for.” Even though you knew he was right, you still weren’t happy about it. “Don’t be a brat.” He warned when he saw your expression.

“m’not.” You muttered, still pouting.

“Should I stop? Leave you like this and go to bed?” You looked away from him, still wanting to argue, but not wanting to be denied. “Thought so. Now be a good little girl, lay there and take my fingers,” his eyes darkened as he leaned closer to you, “and keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, using his hard dom voice. You stared at him with wide eyes, chest heaving as you squirmed, getting needier just from a few words.

“Do you understand?” You nodded quickly and he raised his brows.

“Y-yes.” You corrected yourself. His fingers picked back up almost immediately and your hand shot up to cover your mouth, muffling the moan that slipped out. He didn’t bother building back up to the pace, he just went from zero to one hundred.

You breathed heavily through your nose, scrunching your brows together in concentration. His lips were slightly parted as he stared down at you with half lidded eyes, clearly affected by this situation as well.

When he hit that particularly good spot inside of you, your eyes widened even more and you shook your head with a quiet whimper, warning him. There’s no way you’ll be able to stay quiet. His fingers were moving almost violently and you sobbed out a moan, making them stop instantly. You whined in response and he used his free hand to grab your neck, squeezing the sides tightly.

“What did I say?” He hissed and you removed your hand from your mouth finally.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry. I’m trying…” You whispered through a breath. “Please.” When you pouted and bucked your hips, his expression turned into one of amusement.

“Fine.” He resumed the relentless pace, keeping his hand on your neck. “You want to moan like a slut for the whole house to hear? That’s fine by me.” You faltered because, no… that’s not what you wanted. “Give them a show, baby. Make sure they all know how good I make you feel— how easy it is to turn you into a brainless little whore, unable to keep your fucking mouth shut.” He hissed, making you even needier.

“Cillian..” You whined.

“Yes, love?” He asked innocently.

“I’m trying.” You whimpered, feeling tears of humiliation and desperation stinging your eyes.

“I know, baby.” He cooed mockingly. “I know you are.” It almost seemed like he wanted you to be loud with the way he started grinding his palm against your clit and moving his fingers faster. Wet noises were just barely audible beneath the blankets but you knew he heard it too when he let out a breathy laugh. “Such a needy fucking pussy.” He whispered with a small smirk. “You’re dripping down my hand too.”

“Stop teasing me.” You whined with a pout.

“I’m sorry, baby. I can’t help it.” He chuckled warmly.

“You’re being mean!” Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been when you raised your voice at him.

“Fingering my girlfriend is mean?”

“Stop it!” You whined, louder this time. Your frown deepened, but it was hard to keep the expression with his fingers still curling against your walls.

“Enough.” He growled, his grip on your neck tightening even more as his fingers inside you came to a stop. “Tell me the safe word.” He ordered, tone slightly softer, but still stern. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, making him squeeze your neck harder until you looked at him again.

“…Red.” You muttered.

“That’s right. The only time I want you to open your fucking mouth is to say that. One more word and I’ll shove my cock so deep down your throat you won’t even be able to make any sounds.” He warned. He’s big enough where even when you deepthroat, you can’t go all the way down. So you took the threat to heart. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You whispered, then quickly closed your mouth. He didn’t bother replying before slowly moving his fingers again, getting you used to the feeling. You tried to take deep breaths through your nose to stay calm and collected, but you were still looking at Cillian, his face lit up by the moonlight.

His gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth and you instantly recognized the facial expression he had— The hunger and heat in his eyes as he prepared to ravish you. Normally that look was followed shortly after by him mounting you as he kissed you, swallowing your moans and pushing his cock inside, only stopping when he was buried all the way in. Judging by his heavy breathing and the way his cheeks tensed as he clenched his jaw, you figured he was thinking the same thing.

You almost moaned his name, but remembered just before the word could come out. So you pleaded with him silently by furrowing your brows and looking up at him with wide eyes. He cursed under his breath and closed his eyes for a moment as he composed himself.

When he suddenly got up on his knees and settled between your open legs, you felt a flicker of hope that you’d get what you wanted. He leaned down to kiss you, but made no move to take out his fingers or push down his pants. It took everything in you to not whine.

He started kissing over your jaw and down your neck to your chest. When his lips latched on to your nipple, you quickly covered your mouth to hold in the sounds begging to escape. He rolled the other one between his fingers gently and your free hand went to his hair, tugging on it and pulling him impossibly closer. He let out a low groan from the slight pain on his scalp, the sound adding to your arousal.

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” He murmured, lifting his head to look at you as his hand started rubbing up and down your side. His fingers picked up, going faster and harder, bringing you closer to the edge. “My perfect little girl.” He whispered, leaning back over you and cupping your cheek.

He suddenly kissed you again, his lips moving passionately against yours, claiming you in whatever way he could. While you were distracted with the kiss, he forced a third finger inside, making you release a startled moan that was muffled by his lips. Once you quieted down again, he reluctantly pulled back.

“Can you come for me, baby?” He rasped, almost sounding desperate for it. When you nodded quickly, he gave you a warm smile. “Good girl… Can you be quiet while you do?” You looked away sheepishly, not sure if you should be honest or tell him what he wants to hear. You looked at him again and nodded slowly, your face almost looking guilty while you answered him. He chuckled quietly and gave you another kiss, this one much quicker. “That’s my girl.” He whispered proudly, making you blush and buck your hips into his hand.

His fingers suddenly sped up, curling against your walls as his hand pressed firmly against your clit. Your blush darkened when he continued staring down at you, his eyes half-lidded with arousal. You couldn’t wait to finally go home so he could actually fuck you. It’s barely been a week and you’re already going crazy without having his cock inside you.

Maybe you can convince him to take you to the “store” or something tomorrow and then park somewhere secluded and fuck in the car. But also the build up of so many days without it will make for some pretty fucking good sex when you get home… You couldn’t help but think about what he’d do— how many times he’d make you come, how sore and bruised your body would get, how much he’d fill you up, breed you until he didn’t have any come left to give you.

“Fuck,” You choked out, clinging to his shoulders as the knot of arousal in your stomach tightened considerable. “I- I’m…” You whispered, unable to say anything else. His hand suddenly covered your mouth again, making you moan quietly.

“Come for me, baby. Let me make you feel good.” He begged, voice incredibly raspy now.

Your orgasm finally crashed over you and you clenched your jaw, trying to stifle your sounds. His fingers never faltered as your walls clamped down on them tight enough to almost force them out. “Good girl… I’m so proud of you, baby.” He cooed, making you whine and arch up into him as you rode it out to the very end. When you finally sagged back into the bed and started panting, he released your mouth and slowly pulled his fingers out. You watched as he instinctively lifted them toward his mouth, then suddenly stopped, staring at them for a moment. Cursing under his breath, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a tissue to clean them off. When he looked at you again and saw your confused expression, he explained.

“If I taste you, I won’t be able to stop myself from eating you out and you're even louder during that.” You blushed, but laughed quietly because he was right. Finally, he laid down next to you and when you got up to move to the foot of the bed, he pulled you back with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“I’m okay, baby.” He said softly, but his voice was still thick with arousal. “Tonight was just about you.” He kissed the top of your head and you couldn’t help but blush.

“But…” You can literally see his hard on from beneath the covers. And also your mouth is already watering at just the thought of tasting and feeling him. “I want it.” You pouted, like a child who was denied a treat.

“Not tonight, love. You’ll be too loud and it’s too messy.” You frowned, but didn’t protest because you were already coming up with a plan in your head.

“Fine. We’ll just sleep then.” You grabbed his wrist and pulled as you turned onto your side, facing away from him. He cuddled you from behind, being careful to keep his hips far away from yours. After maybe a minute, you subtly shifted around, pushing your ass back. You didn’t reach his bulge before he grabbed your hip hard to hold you still.

“Stop.” He warned, breath fanning your neck, making you shiver.

“I’m just trying to get comfortable.” You said innocently, making him scoff.

“No, you’re being a brat.”

“I thought tonight was about me and what I want. Well this is what I want.” You reached behind yourself and palmed his bulge before he could stop you. He grunted in surprise, then his grip on your body got infinitely tighter.

“Fuck— fuck. Fine.” He muttered, turning to lay on his back. You smirked and moved down the bed until you were laying between his legs. Without wasting any time, you freed his cock and stroked him slowly, making him sigh quietly.

“In your mouth.” He ordered and you obeyed eagerly. When you started going up and down, keeping your hand at the base, he stopped you. “No. I’m going to fuck my fist and you’re going to keep your mouth on it until I come. Understand?” As soon as you realized that you weren’t going to be actively participating, you pouted and looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “It's either this or I go jerk off in the bathroom and finish in the toilet instead.” You whined loudly and his hand shot out to grab your hair and pull roughly. “Quiet.” He hissed.

“Cillian..” You whined again, quieter this time. When all he did was stare at you, you frowned and removed your hand, letting his replace it. Once his hand was on his cock, you took the tip in your mouth and closed your lips around it with a quiet whine.

“Good girl.” You whimpered, then started suckling on it, getting needier when you could taste some precum. For a while he just stroked his cock, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on him. But you needed more.

“You’re not close yet, right?”

“No.” He said through a breath. You immediately dove down and started kissing and licking his balls, forcing a choked moan out of him. You chuckled quietly and shushed him, but kept going. When you sucked one into your mouth, his hips bucked and he threw his head back, biting his lip to stifle any sounds. The sight had you squeezing your thighs together, but you forced your focus back onto the task at hand.

“Shit, baby…” He whispered. Other than his heavy breathing, the only other sound that filled the room was your mouth, licking and sucking as saliva started building up. If you were at home, the sounds would’ve been far more obscene and spit would’ve been dripping down your chin by now, but you tried to keep things quiet and mess free.

“Back on my cock.” He rushed out, stroking himself faster. You leaned up and wrapped your lips around him again, suckling on the head and swirling your tongue around it. One of your hands moved to gently play with his balls, giving him even more stimulation.

“Christ… Don’t stop, baby. Please don’t stop.” He whispered, jerking himself impossibly faster. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down a little more. Instead of reprimanding you, he cursed under his breath and reached his free hand out toward you. “Hold my hand.” He begged. “I won’t be able to stop myself from pushing you down.” Even though your whole body was craving that, you knew it would be too loud, so you gave him your free hand and he squeezed it tight.

He didn’t give you any warning before his abs contracted as his whole body tensed up, then the first shot of come hit the back of your mouth. You let out a surprised sound and his grip on your hand got even tighter. He fisted his cock rapidly, giving you every last drop as his lips parted in a silent moan and his brows scrunched together from the pleasure.

Even though this seemed like one of the more tame ways you’ve given oral, it still felt dirtier than most. He wasn’t fucking your mouth or your throat, using you to get himself off. He was getting himself off and just using you as a cumdump. He wasn’t using you for pleasure, he was using you the same way he would a toilet, had he gone to the bathroom to jerk off. The thought had you moaning loudly before you could hold it in.

When his body finally relaxed and his hand slowed to a stop, you pulled off and opened your mouth, showing him how well you’d done your job. His cock twitched and you smiled even though your mouth was still open, making him curse under his breath. You finally closed your mouth and swallowed all of it, then opened it again and stuck your tongue out for him to see.

“Get up here.” He said almost breathlessly. With his hand still holding yours, he used it to pull you up until you were laying on your stomach, half on the bed and half on him. “You’re a damn tease, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said innocently, with a small smirk.

Taglist (join here)

@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @theoraekenslover @kaorisakamotofan @scorpiussage @naevisct @jimmywoosimp @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @monsterfromthewoods @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @milktert @nyxxie.pooh @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @milkytomura @bigbossbabysworld @sheisthedxrkness @ll4n4 @olivialveshbc @feyresqueen @charlottegemyngende @ffionspreach @drcranessweetestdoe

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian murphy

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hauntedpearl · 6 months

Text

nov 5 is anniversary dinner at the winchester household but it's like..no one talks about it. everyone gets together but they pretend like it's because it's just. you know. a regular coincidence! we're just hanging out! we didn't even look at the calendar! they're all laughing too loud and forcing jokes and being overly casual about it.

dean gets real quiet when there's a break in conversation or when he's alone. cas gets this look in his eyes like he's not where he is. if they can't bear to be separated on the day, well. no one has to know. or even if they do, no one mentions it. so they eat one handed and they hold hands under the table until their knuckles are turning white and they're just standing pressed together when they're supposed to be doing the dishes and they DON'T talk because they still can't figure out how to sometimes and today is definitely the day that is sometimes. and if they get hugged extra tight when everyone leaves, well. they don't mention it. they're grateful but they don't talk about it.

the first year, it's almost a wake in the house. well, there was no house then, but there was the bunker, and it was home. but yes. it was almost a wake, disguised as a celebration. they'd all crowded around the map table, sitting in chairs and on the surface and trading stupid stories and playing boardgames and throwing scrabble tiles at each other because that's not a fucking word, dean and then even when they'd tired of the act, they just sort of sat together and drank and said nothing like it was agreed upon beforehand that they weren't gonna let dean and cas be alone and dean had been so grateful he didn't know what to do with it. it was like this grief wasn't supposed to be there, you know? but it was. it was. and there was no ignoring it. but you couldn't let it drown you so you did what you could.

the year after that is more of the same, though the house had emptied before midnight . and yes there was a house by then. and a porch swing and deck chairs and kitchen windows and her gardens and retirement, even though dean didn't think he'd ever get used to the taste of that word in his mouth. dean woke up that year with a pit in his stomach and he'd panicked because cas wasn't there, cas wasn't touching him, cas was gone , gone, gone, but then he'd blinked his eyes open to see that cas had just curled away from him in the night, was still here, sleeping, soft and open mouthed, and dean could touch him without straightening the bend in his elbow and he did and he tugged until they were pressed together again and he'd closed his eyes and sighed. cas went somewhere far away during the day, and dean thought he was going to suffocate in the house because he didn't know how to bring him back, to make him aware of the ground under his feet. but then his family was there, filing into the house somewhere around noon, in groups of twos and threes. they brought food and wine and movies and they pulled at the arms of the men who'd turned hollow-eyed until something like light slipped back into them.

it's the third year now, and the dishes are drying on the rack and the house is emptied of its guests and the quiet is just a little bit more bearable than it was the year before but somehow that feels like enough, because dean's not drowning and neither is cas, even if the water pulls at their legs, and that's a damn win in his book. dean checks the locks on the doors and the windows of his house and brings cas an afghan, drapes it over his shoulders, pulls him close until he's lying back against dean's chest on the couch. and they turn on the tv and it's the kind of shitty programming that comes on when it's after halloween and not yet christmas and it's pushing 2 am on the oven clock, but it's good white noise, and sometimes cas laughs and dean feels it against his chest, in his bones, and he thinks that's all it's about anyway. that laugh's kind of the point of everything. so he sighs and hooks his chin on Cas' shoulder and doesn't say how scared he is, sometimes, even now, or how he doesn't want to close his eyes tonight, because he's not sure what he'll wake up to tomorrow and doesn't say that there's something stinging the back of his eye even if there's no reason for it. instead he just slips his fingers through Cas' and buries his nose in cas ' hair and breathes. and well, isn't that a miracle.

#nov 5th FEELINGS POSTING #is this fic it's not it's a headcano.#headcanon #destiel #IM SORRY #doe is talking again #IM SORRY BC IDK WHAT IM DOING

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bakubunny · 4 months

Text

some post-christmas nonsense thx to @thenamesmiz. i’m rotting on santa!eijiro au who has female reindeer hybrids/shifters to pull his sleigh. he’s such a sweet and attentive caretaker…

but he has elf!katsuki as the head caretaker when he’s not able to be there. and he’s such a good caretaker. 🥺

tw: f!reader, hybrids, heats, fingering, medical exam ig?

thinkin abt elf!kats examining reindeer!reader to track their heats. you get so flustered you can’t even speak, instead reduced to a pathetic bleat when he asks you to bend over once again. he scoffs a little with a grin and tells you to “get on with it. we do this every three months, sweetheart. ‘s not gonna change.”

and even though he’s been doing this every three heat cycles since you started working as santa’s reindeer, you never get used to the way his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine or how exposed you feel with your cunt on display. he’s never awkward or crass about it because it’s his job to keep you well cared for and safe, but he notices how you flush and get slick in front of him.

i’m thinkin abt the day your exam has to be pushed back further than usual, so by the time katsuki gets to you, you’re mentally hazy and too warm in your stable because your heat is just starting. you groan when the stable door opens and shuts, indicating his presence. he’s kind enough to not make you come to him this time, and he’s very apologetic about your exam being rescheduled, knowing how uncomfortable heats could get.

after he sets up his work table, it’s the same song and dance as usual; you hate exposing yourself, but it has to be done so he knows when to give the next treatment to keep your heats bearable without a stag. it’s just too dangerous to risk bringing other hybrids in to ease your ailment.

so you do it anyways. you’re trying not to react from the increased sensitivity. katsuki watches as, bent over his work table, your thigh twitches and cramps while he gently prods your folds. his hand lets go of your tail and runs over the muscle to sooth it as he heats your skin with his quirk. you let out a sharp hiss as he slides in two fingers using your heat accumulated slick as lubrication.

“shh… i know, sugar. i’m tryna make this quick,” he says softly.

it’s taking everything you have to keep yourself from pushing back into his hand as he presses and pokes around. you’re embarrassed by the way you clench and flutter around his fingers. you bite your cheek, gripping the table hard as he takes longer than necessary, you think. katsuki’s hand travels backup to your fluffy tail to pull it out of the way and you squeak, holding back a heavy pant.

“a-almost done?” you sputter out. you bite your lip.

katsuki chuckles. “yes, ‘m almost done.”

your eyes go wide as he massages a spongy, tender spot that makes your thighs tremble. the rough pad of his thumb slips down to rub circles into your clit and you keen.

“gonna give you a little relief first. ‘s that alright?” he asks.

you nod quickly as you whine, pushing your hips into him. he grins.

“‘s a good girl. yer gonna feel better real soon, okay?”

@dcsiremc @neon-gothicc send help

#we are ignoring that Santa’s elves are often written as small #my elf kats is still 6’2 and bulky as fuck bc i say so #and santa eiji is still bigger than him at 6’5 so it works #we’re also ignoring the fact that this probably wouldn’t need to happen #bakugou smut #aged up characters #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katuski #bakugou x reader #x reader #f!reader #tw hybrids #🐺#bakubunny

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queuestarter · 4 months

Text

mirrors

(finnick odair x reader)

cw: mentions of sexual abuse and prostitution, talks of self hatred, ambiguous ending

→ reader comforts finnick when he's having a rough morning

open to submissions/asks !!

You know what kind of day it’s going to be as soon as you wake up.

Finnick’s not in bed anymore, which is unusual for him. He usually likes to stay in bed until well after you both have woken up. He likes to hold you against his chest, likes to whisper in your ear about everything and nothing. He likes knowing you’re there.

So when you wake up during sunrise and don’t see him next to you in bed, you can instantly tell something is wrong. You’re not worried or hesitant, you are more upset than anything.

Both you and Finnick have experienced the Hunger Games, so you’re no stranger to the nightmares that stem from it and bud out into real life. But when Finnick has nightmares, he tends to want to stay in bed rather than leave it, so you know that his terrors must not be what woke him up.

You sigh, getting up from the bed yourself. You smooth out the sheets and the duvet before grabbing your and Finnick’s mugs with old tea dregs in it to deposit in the kitchen sink. A pang of sadness hits you when you don’t spot Finnick at all during that time.

After throwing on one of Finnick’s knit sweaters and making two fresh mugs of tea, you set out to find your boyfriend, once and for all. It doesn’t take much looking- you find him sitting on the back deck overlooking the water.

“Finnick,” you say quietly so as not to startle him. “I brought you some tea.”

He doesn’t turn to look at you but by the way he flinches you know he heard you. You frown at his subtle action.

“Go back inside. It’s too cold out here for you,” he eventually says after a long moment of silence. “I’ll be in soon.”

You don’t listen, instead choosing to sit on the step directly next to him, placing his mug on the table in front of you. “The tea will warm us both up.”

He finally turns his head to look at you. You try not to stare at the sight of the bags under his eyes or the way his frown has left a crease on his cheek.

“What are you even doing here?” He asks, catching you off guard.

You don’t let the question faze you for too long before you respond easily, trying not to set him off. “I wanted to see you.”

He shakes his head before returning his gaze back to the water. “Not here, here. What are you doing with me?”

This question does cause you to raise your eyebrows. You set your mug of tea down next to his. “I’m here because I love you. You are the most perfect man in the world to me.”

You catch the way his face seems to melt at your words, how tears immediately come pouring from his eyes. Despite how hard it is, you don’t comfort him in fear of making his breakdown worse.

“I’m not. There’s nothing perfect about me. I’m dirty and used up.” He buries his face into his hands.

You’re speechless. You and Finnick have been together for a long time, and while he’s had moments where he feels like he’s not enough or that what the Capitol put him through made him less than, he’s never said anything like this. After a moment of processing his words, you try to soothe him by rubbing a hand up and down his back.

“Everything about you is perfect to me, Finn. And you are not dirty,” you say vehemently. “What they’re putting you through has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them.”

With his face still buried, Finnick cries out, “then why am I like this? Why can’t I live with it?”

You grimace. Every word he says resonates with you. While you were never sought after in the Capitol after your games in the same way Finnick is, you’ve seen the aftermath of the attention. You can’t do anything to change the past or what’s to come, but you can try to make things more bearable for him.

Afterall, he’s done so much for you.

“Can you tell me what happened, honey?” You dare to ask, hoping he’ll let you in.

He lifts his head up and turns back to face you. Your heart breaks at the sight of his watery eyes and red cheeks. “I just… looked in the mirror and hated what I saw. I hate my face for what it’s caused me.”

At this point you can’t help your own tears. “Finn,” you whisper. “There’s nothing wrong with you. There’s nothing wrong with your face, or your personality, or anything about you. Those people are the ones that are wrong. The people in the Capitol who are too evil to see the hurt that they’re causing.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Not knowing what else to do, you wrap your arm around his shoulder and hold him until he tells you to stop. And when he does want to get up and go inside, you still say nothing as you make oatmeal for the two of you.

There’s nothing you can do or say to stop his torment. All you can do is promise to always be by his side.

#finnick odair #finnick oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick imagine #finnick odair x y/n #finnick x reader #hunger games #thg finnick #lane's writing

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murdrdocs · 4 months

Note

We’ve discussed Cornelius but what kind of kinks do we think Sejanus has? He’s a beautiful specimen, truly a tasty treat

firstly, sejanus is soft but not vanilla.

he's not an extreme person, he can't even imagine hurting you even if you really wanted it. he only wants to treasure you and protect you and make you feel good.

that being said, he's really into praise. both ways. he likes how pretty your moans are and how you're so pliant whenever he praises you. and he likes when you praise him because he needs verbal validation that he's doing the right thing and he's making you feel good.

he's a family person. he's always dreamt of starting a family and settling down with someone who means the world to him, so breeding and pregnancy kinks aren't a shocker for him. he loves to fill you up as much as he can, hoping that eventually one day it'll take and you'll start swelling with the blessing of carrying his baby. he also starts to get really serious about where he cums at a certain point. when you're really trying for a baby, having had talks about it and everything, he hates when his cum is anywhere other than in you. he always feels like washing the sticky white substance away is just a waste.

because he's all about pleasing you, cuckolding is something he's willing to explore. not all the time, of course, but just a handful of times he's down to let you fuck someone else while he watches. especially if it's a mutual friend, someone he knows and trusts, someone he believes would treat you just as well as he does (coriolanus).

there are some other things that he'd be open to. like impact play (never your face, though), just spanking you until the flesh starts to burn or lightly tapping your cunt when you're being a bit of a brat. he's not a massive brat tamer, but he can get stern sometimes if you're purposefully pushing his buttons with an intent to get a rise out of him. he also would engage in wax play if you wanted him to. maybe on a special occasion like a birthday or anniversary, when the setting is ultra romantic and there's wax pooled in the hollow pit at the top of a burning candle and you sweetly ask for him to splatter your chest with the red.

both ways he's into overstimulation. he has a thing about not knowing limits, or just ignoring them all together. but he has good intent! he's just so obsessed with you, he likes to give and give and give until you're crying and writhing and begging him to make this orgasm the last one. and he likes when you do the same to him. it makes him feel less vile when you deliver your form of payback. it works out for him either way, because he's still getting to feel you. your cunt and your hands and your mouth (your feet once or twice). it's all you and he truly can't get enough.

special mention: he likes body worship. he loves kissing along your entire body and worshipping you and thanking you for coming into his life and making everything so much more bearable. he needs you to see him the way he sees you, so there are a few times where he'll fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see what he sees. and with his body worship comes him kissing all of you, even your feet and under your arms.

if you try to do the same to him, he gets all shy and nervous and tries to tell you you don't have to. but if you kiss him just enough, he won't notice that you're in front of the mirror and if you get on your knees, he'll do anything for you. even stare at his reflection in the mirror as you make him cum on your tongue.

#sejsworld!#sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth smut #sejanus plinth #celeste writes thg

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Fool Me Once (part 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: With the birth of your child looming, you and Aemond finally lay your cards on the table. A growing problem reaches a boiling point.

Warnings: more lying/manipulation (y’all know the drill by now), Aemond once again gaslighting, mentions of s*icide

A/N: it’s been such a fun time writing this. It is definitely different from most things I’ve written, so it have been a nice change. I’ve gotten so much support from it and I hope to keep making stuff you guys like. Also slight disclaimer that the way I write Alys is not really way I read her in the book. Much like Aemond in this. They both kind of suck lmao. I wanted this to be the last part but then I thought of more things so… we shall see how this goes 👍🏽. I wanted this chapter to be a build up to events in ep 8-10 mainly 9 and 10 of the show.

Fmo masterlist

You can’t remember the last time Aemond and you have had dinner, just the two of you. So, when he insisted you that you two do, you had a feeling it was about the talk Queen Alicent said she wanted to have with him. A private dinner with your husband would have been a dream moons ago.

Alicent did not make you privy to what they discussed. It only made you more weary. You know she is hurt and upset. But you also know she is more hurt that the son she propped up so much turned out to be just as unreliable as the man she made him with.

That is the painful part about love; the only place to go is down.

Nevertheless, his suffering is what you want; it does not matter if the ire stems from a place on genuine care for you. The uncomfortable nature in which he moves the castle makes the pain you have suffered a little bearable. It sounds deranged, but if you are to be trapped, he should be as well. You want him to wake with the same lump in his throat you do.

The letters had stopped. A constantly stream of communication abruptly ended. Lord Strong gave you a funny smile when he told you.

Ser Quinton rarely leaves your side when Aemond is around. He gave you a reluctant glance when you tell him about the dinner. While Aegon, already deep in his cups midday, tells you to keep a grip on your fervor.

The corridor was empty except for the two of you.

“I know how him and mother are,” he point his fingers at you emphatically. “They probably already concocted something to keep you quiet or make you look like the problem. Keep you…. Idle.”

Despite the slurring of his words, and clear bitterness towards the relationship Alicent and Aemond have, he may not be wrong. Alicent had already taken it upon herself to write to your father, suggesting he visits soon. She is proactive to a fault; her behavior simultaneously holding the Seven Kingdom together and enabling her family’s indecencies.

Everything can be hidden under the right tactics and false goodwill. You want to say she got that trait from her father, but you know it comes from years of being a woman in the Red Keep. From being the Queen.

The dinner begins uneventful. You wrinkle your nose at the meat pie in front of you. A dish you normally like making your stomach churn. It is hard not to feel sick or uncomfortable these days. You’re huge; feet swollen and belly protruding to a remarkable degree. The sheer thought of how big the babe will be plagues your mind most days.

It is unbearable having to engage in meaningless small talk with Aemond. Like he is insulting your intelligence by tip toeing around everything.

“Are you going to tell me why you wanted this dinner,” you want nothing more to leave his chambers and go take a bath.

“I think we need to talk.”

You can’t help but scoff at him. Aemond looks even more haunting in the dark lighting of room. Like the brutal knights the septas used to make you read about. He has a nasty look in his eye, like he wants a fight. You wonder if his Alys gets this look or if it just reserved for you. One special thing for his wife.

Despite all the formal swordsman training, Aemond plays dirty in personal affairs. Much like a feral cat backed into a corner. You’ve seen it to many times with Aegon. The only thing he responds to is equally cruel jabs.

“Yes dear husband,” you sigh out of boredom, rolling your neck.

His next words take you by surprise.

“Daella told me she is not excited about her egg hatching,” he huffs out. You stop rolling your neck, and blink blankly at him. The two of your stare at each other before you bark out a laugh.

“That is what this is about? You are pouting because a child is no longer enraptured by an egg.”

“It is not only about the egg, and you know it,” a nasty tone to match the look he gives you. “You fill her head with assumptions. You debase something that is her birthright. Something that is the birthright of her father, and her ancestors.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, if I disparaged the great Targaryen legacy or dragons in front of her it must have been a… mistake.”

You swear you see Aemond’s eye twitch a little at the word.

“Have you ever thought maybe it is not the dragons themselves, but the person she most associates them with?”

Daella’s change in behavior was notable. She never wanted to go to the dragon pit with her father, the few times she does work up the nerve to go it is always with her aunt to see Dreamfyre. She is no longer enthused to learn High Valyrian despite how quickly she picks it up.

You did try to keep your child out things, but kids are perceptive. The way from a young age Alicent kids picked on her strife with their father, maybe she picked up on yours with Aemond.

Aemond’s anger radiates off him. Once the truth finally comes out, the words begin to spill from your lips.

“And do not pretend this is just about Daella. That is an insult to her, and a waste of my time,” you lean forward, and lower your voice. “This about you losing your favor around here, and this about her.”

There is an uncomfortable hush comes over the room. The only sound is the crackling coming from the fireplace.

“She was pregnant,” it comes out like whisper. The spite that was laced through his voice is gone. All is left is confusion.

Your vision blurred red. There’s a painful twinge in your stomach, and you wince.

“What do mean was.”

There was always the possibility this could happen. As naive as it sounds, it was not a thought till ironically Aegon of all people brought it up. If anyone would know about possibly fathering bastards it would be him. Then he promptly told you that the two of you could hop on Sunfyre and burn her to a crisp. The offer that you quickly refused in the moment has never sounded so tempting now.

“I-I do not know where she is,” Aemond admits curtly. “One day she is telling me she is with child, and the next she’s…gone.”

He looks so small; his eye has a faraway look in it. It’s utterly pathetic. You never considered that a greater pain to him would be not only to be seen differently by his family, but also have to reason why he did it leave.

“So what now Aemond? She left you, and you want to just erase everything you have done. Pretend you care or love me,” you say coldly.

“No. I do not lo-“

He stops mid sentence, and an empty smile appears on your face. Neither of you have said it out loud but it is the plain truth.

“Go ahead and say it,” there is a deep pressure in your stomach that won’t go away. The pain only makes you even more upset. “Love requires respect. It requires give and take. You surely do not respect me, and all you ever do is take.”

Another twinge hits the underside of your belly. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, eyeing the door.

“You are not completely innocent in this,” your eyes go wide at his remark. “Do not give me that look. I see the way Ser Quinton looks at you. And now Alys is…”

He trails off. It is the first time you have heard him say her name out loud. Another surge of jealously runs through you. She is gone, and you are once again stuck with the carcass. Expected to uphold your end of the bargain while he frets over a child and mother that never should have been around to begin with.

You refuse to sit and let him turn the tables around on you. It is a struggle, but you manage to get up from the table, but only to have him rise and block your way.

“For someone who has such clear distain for my house. You sure do not hide your fire well… just like a dragon.” His eye flutter down to the scar on your arm, then back to your eyes. You see the blame in his.

“If I was that rash, or temperamental, your head would have been on a spike. Along with your whore’s,” you narrow your eyes. “And I would have made Ser Quinton sully his white cloak, because he would for me. Hells, I would have had your brother while I was at it. It’s not like he has not tried before.”

You are not sure you even want Ser Quinton in that way, let alone Aegon. Ser Quinton devotion is not something you know if you are willing to take that level. And Aegon’s cock has been in half the maidservants in the castle and most of the whores in Flea Bottom. Him wanting you is not special, it’s just Aegon being Aegon. But the deep look of rage in Aemond’s eye makes the statement all the more worth it.

You skirt past him quickly towards the door. His heavy footsteps behind you. Ser Quinton leaning against the wall opposite of the door does not surprise you.

“Are you alright,” he rushes over, concerned when you pause to in the hall and lean over in pain. His hand coming to rub your back.

“Oh well is this not sweet,” Aemond’s bitter tone cuts through the empty hall. “I can handle it from here Ser Quinton.”

Blood rushes to your ears, and you can barely hear the hushed disagreement that begins between the two. Your painful groans becoming background fader to their pissing match.

A familiar snap happens in the lower part of your abdomen, and a pool of liquid flows out of you. Both cease arguing, and you and Aemond share a knowing look.

“The babe is coming.”

Alaric Targaryen came into the world fast, and with a haughty disposition. As if he could tell the family dynamic he was coming into. His cries were piercing and sharp, matching the tears of relief you cried when he finally came out.

You had insisted to only have your lady in waiting and some septas in room, especially after the clear tension between Aemond and Quinton. Helaena and Alicent come in and out of the room sporadically, giving you words of encouragement and knowing glances at the pain you were in. Alicent had been shocked to see her son and Ser Quinton trying to get you back to chambers.

Lord Larys followed casually behind her. He gave that funny smile of his again. The smile he gives Queen Alicent when he thinks no one is watching… or maybe he hopes someone is watching.

She’s gone

Even while giving birth to your son, that woman plagued your thoughts. Aemond could be right; you two have more in common than you like. Bewitched by the same woman.

It took everything in you to look up when Aemond finally came into the room. Acknowledging his presence met remembering how he is half of Alaric. How so much of you belongs to Aemond. You live in his home, dress in his colors, your children will be in the history books as Targaryen’s. He will have ownership over your boy after calling him a mistake. No matter how much you try, you will be remembered as his wife.

If that fact did not make you sick enough. Alicent’s next words did the trick.

“Oh, he looks like how Aemond did when he was a babe.”

You look down at him in your arms. While Daella was a combination of Aemond and you, her brother is every bit of his father. Small tuff of straight blonde hair, lips town turned in a scowl. You did not know a babe could look so refined especially after just being born. The only resembles to yourself you see in his in his big glassy eyes looking up at you.

There’s an energy that gets sucked out you when Alicent hands him to Aemond. She sees the weary look on your face.

Opposed to the elation you felt after having Daella. Dread creeps in; dread that comes from a place of sadness and protectiveness. All you have is your children. Even with the bonds and alliances you may have made, only they are extensions of you. Daella, your sweet girl, a reminder of what could of been. You have Alaric, the flesh and blood reflection of what you have been through.

“Have you two thought of a name,” Alicent asks. Before Aemond, who is still looking down can answer, you beat him to it.

“Alaric. Ser Quinton told the sweetest story about a knight he admired as a child. I thought it would be fitting.”

Alicent’s brows raise but she does nothing but nod. “Handsome name for a handsome boy.”

Aemomd does not say anything about the name. He just quietly hums a melody when Alaric starts to fuss. He turns his back to you as he bounces him in his arms.

All you have is your children

When you think about a sword to the throat. You don’t know which situation would be more satisfying. One to his or one to yours.

“I am sure you were… relieved to hear about your problem being gone.”

You do not see Lord Larys again till weeks after Alaric is born. The day of a feast Alicent insisted you have to celebrate his birth. Your father and mother writing you that they can not wait to see their second grandchild.

While Daella was a fussy, energetic baby, all Aleric does is sleep and eat. He stares at you with curious eyes. Always taking in the scene around him. He lays sweetly crib next to your bed. After his birth, you were all but forced to move back into the one you shared with Aemond.

“Do you know what happened to her,” it’s been on your mind for since Aemond uttered those words.

Larys tilts his head to the side with a wry look. “You and I both know it is hard to place the whims of a difficult woman, especially a supposed magical one.”

You know he is not just talking about Alys.

She is out there, possibly with Targaryen blood in her and no one knows where is. It does not make any sense. Larys can read the skepticism all over your face.

“It is quite suspicious, witch or not. A bastard woman with no means or worth to her name, gone in an instant. And right after the truth comes out within the family. Right after the Queen and the Prince talk.”

He gives you no help, only more questions. Makes you more suspicious of those you have to call family. In this moment you hate the way he speaks in riddles. He never states things plainly till he is ready to. As if he expects you to do something before he can reveal anymore.

“But look on the bright side princess, your family will be back at court soon enough.”

Alaric begins to coo, as if he trying to tell you something.

“Well, thank you for your time, Lord Larys,” you give him a fake smile. “I should start getting ready.”

Your lady in waiting, Jayne, comes in once Larys finally leaves.

“I quite like this one princess,” she holds up a green and black dress. It is old dress of Alicent’s, one she gave you when you first married Aemond.

A flash of satiny purple in the back of you wardrobe catches your eye. A smile appears on your face. It may be a bit snug as you have two children since wearing it but it worth the try.

“I think I might want to try something a bit different Jayne.”

Your father used to tell you that the strongest flowers grow even when there is little sun. In conjunction, your mother told you that flowers are meant to be admired. Prettiest ones will often be picked and disregarded when a new bloom happens. Wilting was never an option for you in their mind.

You are their lower. Planted, watered, and urged to grow. Even in the deep darkness that is King’s Landing. The darkness they said was critical to helping your house.

The looks you get when you walk into the Godswood, head high in your deep violet dress only spurs you on when in other times it would make you want to hide. Daella and Alaric both in darling lavender outfits. You three stand out against the various muted greens, blues, and greys amongst you. Except for the few specs of purple that you see on the side wooded area.

“My dear girl,” your father’s hug makes you want to cry. Seeing your parents put into perspective how young you feel… how young you are.

Already married, mother of two, and all you want is your parents to hug you and tell you everything will be ok. When your father pulls you to the side and asks you about the letter Queen Alicent sent him, you are surprised to hear what she put in it.

“She said you are having a hard time,” he runs his hand over your arm. “That it is affecting your marriage.”

It should not surprise you she failed to mention her son’s cheating. But the onus being placed on you only proves what you already felt. They will protect their own, so you must protect yours.

Before you can muster up an answer, an anxious looking maidservant comes over with Jayne in tow.

“My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt. I went back to grab Alaric’s sweater. I saw something you may want to see; it was left it your chambers.”

Your eyes go to a box Jayne is carrying.

You must hold back a scream when you open the box and see Alaric’s favorite blanket, the one always in his crib, soaked in blood.

You frantically look over to the opposite side of the garden, your mother happily holding Alaric, Daella by her side. You look over to catch Aemond and Alicent giving you a questioning looks from across the Godswood.

As your vision blurs, you notice box had a tripartite of pale blue, red, and green on it.

“Jayne, please go fetch me Lord Larys and Ser Quinton.”

All you have is your children

Tag list: ok I’m sooo sorry to anyone who does not get a tag. I swear I am not ignoring you. I am only allowed to do 50 which is so annoying bc I want to tag everyone that was kind enough to support and ask. Also sometimes tumblr won’t let me tag certain people idk. If y’all know a better way please let me know, so I can try it ❤️❤️.

@simp-is-what-i-am @rey26 @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @crispmarshmallow @dc-marvel-girl96 @stargaryenx @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @neenieweenie @iwanttohitmyself @helloitsshitzulover @lazypinkpig @shisuchiha @leoramage @viperixsworld @luvremlu @this-is-a-bad-idea @landlockedmermaid77 @inpraizeof @blacpiink @carriellie @s0urmarvel @blackravena @bregarc @hvx @let-love-bleeds-red @fangirls94 @v7nt7 @m1ndbrand @highexpectationsgurl @m1tzifa1ry @spaceslutty @elleclairez @kitkat-writes-stuff @paprikaquinn @widemiffyhappy @poisonedsultana @what-is-your-wish @lilliansstuff @rebelfleur22 @aloneatpeace @alastorhazbin @alexa4040 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ensolleildelune @clora95 @yu3kkii @mischiefmanaged2 @its-sam-allgood @papery-maniac

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #aemond x fem!reader #black!reader #aemond x oc

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