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#hopefully my husband will be alright
wrendo · 7 months
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I too have been inflicted with the knowledge of Good Omens season 2
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clocks-are-round · 1 year
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Z = zzz’s (bed sharing/one bed) with simmons please :3
Red Team Sardines
“This has to be some kind of mistake.” Simmons stared at the singular bed in the hotel room.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” Grif tugged his suitcase in after him. Bumbling on its wheels, it loudly slapped the door frame and closing door in succession. Grif got it into the room with another strong tug from his deceptively muscular— Focus, Simmons!
Simmons cleared his throat. He gestured. “There’s only one bed.”
“There’s room for both of us. Just stay on your side.”
“You sprawl and… hug. In your sleep.”
“So?”
“Sarge has the other keycard.” No way did he want Sarge and Donut walking in on them like that.
“Point taken. I dunno, you could sleep on the floor?”
“I think I need to have a word with whoever’s in charge. I’m sure it was two twin beds. Why would Sarge book a single bed room when there are four of us?” Simmons noticed Grif eying the bed like an old friend. “Don’t get too comfortable, we’ll be in a new room soon.”
Simmons ran over a few possible conversations in his head. The lady at the desk was really pretty, and that was sure to trip him up. He needed to be prepared before he marched over and inevitably got flustered after a few words.
“Uh huh. Sure, Simmons.” Grif strolled over to one side of the bed, his bulky dingy suitcase sending Simmons’ perfectly shiny metallic one careening just as he took a step toward the door— Simmons yelped as his crotch sank too far into the suitcase handle. “Son of a bitch!”
Grif winced sympathetically. “Ooh, been there, buddy.”
“I don’t,” Simmons grimaced, “have as much feeling there since my surgery, but yeah. Not great.” Simmons staggered over to the other side of the bed and flopped onto his back.
“Sarge did something in the front too?”
“No! I mean— it doesn’t matter. Still hurts like a bitch.”
Grif flopped onto his back on his own side of the bed.
Simmons squeezed his eyes shut as he waited out the pain. He thought every curse word he could think of. “This wouldn’t have happened if you were more careful with your stupid suitcase,” Simmons fumed.
Grif lazily turned to meet Simmons’ eyes. Their faces were less than a foot apart. Grif raised his eyebrows. “What? You want me to kiss it better?”
Simmons’ face heated. He grabbed a pillow and whacked Grif. Simmons glanced at the door. It was still closed, at least.
“Yeah, yeah.” Grif pulled the pillow under his head. “There we go.” He sighed. “Much better.”
The door swung open, Sarge wearing his all-red hat, shirt, and shorts that made him look more like a fire hydrant than usual— Grif had pointed this out earlier; Simmons would never say that to Sarge’s face.
Sarge was holding his duffel bag. “Simmons. Grif. Sounds like there’s been a mix-up with the rooms.”
“No kidding,” Grif said, lounging comfortably while Simmons— who had bolted up the moment the handle turned— sat on the edge.
Donut dropped his obnoxiously pink sequined bag on the floor “Turns out we only got ONE room. Total!”
Simmons blinked. “What.”
“All the other rooms are full tonight, so I couldn’t get us another one. We’ll just have to sleep in a pile like a bunch of baby rabbits.”
“Aww I love baby bunnies!”
“I even asked them to check the back. No dice.”
Grif scooted up to a sit. “You asked them to check the back of the hotel for… what? More rooms they forgot to put on the shelves?”
“Sleepover time!” Donut ran into the room and hopped onto the bed.
Grif frowned. “Donut, if you steal the blanket from me tonight, I will smother you with a pillow in your sleep.”
“Woof. Someone’s tense. Ooh, anyone want a massage?”
Everyone groaned.
“Oh, don’t be shy you guys!”
——
Sarge prodded Grif’s arm. “Move your ass, Grif. I’m not gonna sleep on top of you and you sure as hell ain’t gonna sleep on top of me.”
Grif shifted position and crossed his arms as Sarge sidled in next to him. “How are we all supposed to fit in one bed?”
Sarge nodded his head over towards Grif. “Simmons, get over on the other side of Grif.”
“We’d be crammed so close to each other though.” Simmons tried not to think too much about that. A red face was the last thing he needed when he was already dealing with a bunch of stupid butterflies. What was he, gay? (Author's note: yes.)
“So?” Donut said, “It’s not like you’ve never touched each other. You two have slept together.”
“What??” Simmons and Grif both said. Simmons felt Grif tense as he did.
Grif quickly added, “I don’t know WHAT you’re talking about, Donut.”
“What?” Donut wiggled away from the edge of the bed, cramming Simmons closer to Grif. “Didn’t you share a bed last time we went on a Red Team vacation? You can sleep together one more night, jeez.”
Simmons’ mind had immediately jumped to the euphemism but this was Donut. He dropped innuendos constantly. It was best to try to ignore it.
“Somebody get the light,” Sarge said. “We start hunting Grif at the crack of dawn.”
Simmons elbowed Donut, who elbowed him back.
“The light,” Simmons hissed.
“Ohhhh.” Donut obliged.
“Can it be the crack of the afternoon?” Grif asked. “Also, can’t someone else be the victim first for once?”
“No, it’s alphabetical. You first, numbnuts.”
Grif grumbled. “Fine.” He rolled over. “Stupid alphabet.”
The room was now dark, but Simmons was extremely aware of the two men sardining him. Oh god there was so much body heat and so little space. He was going to wake up uncomfortable and sweaty. Or worse, nuzzling into Grif or Donut thinking they were a pillow in his sleep. But, counterpoint, he really didn’t want to sleep on the floor. He’d at least try to put up with it. At least for tonight.
A few minutes passed. Sarge had already started snoring.
“Wait, Donut’s D!”
“What about my D?”
“Everyone shut. Up.”
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raeathnos · 1 year
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irisintheafterglow · 5 months
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hi!!! could i request pro hero!bakugo & pro hero!reader where bkgs doing an interview and they ask about relationships and his answer is “I thought you people already knew that im married”
i have no idea how to word things but i hope that was readable🙏🙏
keeping it in the family
wc: 1.6k
cw/tags: swearing, mentions of drinking and alcohol, established relationship, dialogue-driven
note: RAHHH I LOVE HUSBAND BAKUGO. anyways !!! i hope you like this, i did get a little carried away when writing it so hopefully it makes sense. thank you for your ask!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3
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“And we’re on in five, four, three, two…give ‘em hell.” The roar of excited applause jumbles together with the late-night show’s opening theme and the screams of excited fans can still be heard even as Kirishima flashes a blinding smile to the camera. 
“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to Heroes on Heroes! We’re so glad you’re joining us tonight, seeing as this is the finale of season one!” The audience cheers with fiery passion and it makes the three heroes onstage chuckle nervously. This was going to be a long night, especially if the superfans were crying after every word they spoke. “I’m Red Riot,” he pauses while the cheering erupts once again, “and I’m joined by my fellow pros, Chargebolt and Dynamight.” You wince from your place at sidestage from the sheer wave of noise that slams into your eardrums when the latter is introduced. 
“Thanks for having us tonight, man,” Denki grins. He eagerly drums the armrests of his chair, to the left of Kirishima. “I’ve been looking forward to doing one of these since I saw Deku’s a few weeks back.” 
“It’s a great concept, really. I love being able to just chat with you guys and shoot the shit about hero stuff. It’s so manly.” Kirishima turns expectantly to the other hero sitting to his right, whose hot-headed nature was blatantly obvious by how he was slumped in his chair, squinting slightly at the burning spotlights and clicking cameras. You admire Kirishima’s confidence in forcing Katsuki to say something. “What about you, Bakugo? How’re you feeling tonight?” 
“I’m alright,” he shrugs indifferently. Your breath catches in your throat and you can hear the Dynamight agency’s publicist put his head in his hands. “It’s been a while, so it’s good to see you guys,” he adds with unexpected fondness and you exhale in relief. His eyes meet yours for half a second and he shoots you a wink that makes your knees wobbly. “I saw that save at the bridge collapse last week, Shitty Hair. Pretty decent work.” Kirishima blinks once, twice, and then glances at Denki. Katuski’s blank look narrows into a scowl. “The hell are you looking like that for? I got shit in my teeth or something?”
“No, no. Sorry, man,” Kirishima laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting a compliment from you so early in the show.”
“Yeah, we thought we’d have to booze you up a little more to get you to be nicer,” Denki jokes and he recoils a bit when he’s struck with a molten hot glare from the hero across from him. 
“Whatever you’re about to say, bro, don’t say it,” Kirishima warns and the crackles in Katsuki’s palms gradually dissipate. “But, I’m wondering too. What’s with the good mood?” 
“I guess I feel like playing nice tonight,” he answers cryptically, his gaze flicking over to you again with amusement. You can almost sense the fainting girls falling over each other in the front row. Kirishima’s attention subtly darts over to you and a knowing smirk grows over his face. It was the first time you and Katsuki were at the same press event, since you both thought it was too dangerous to sneak around until now. “But, talk about that bridge save. I don’t think a lot of people know that the guy was wanted by several agencies.”
“Ooh, yeah,” Denki agrees with a quick sip of his drink. He swallows and sets the glass down with a light thud. “He’d been giving us hell for weeks. It's not really the best matchup for a sand villain to be going up against an electric hero.”
“It was the sand villain and his wife, wasn’t it? That chick with the melting Quirk?”
“Yep, they were a nasty couple to deal with,” Kirishima confirms. “I had to keep track of this guy’s damn sand spikes and his wife turning the floor to goop at the same time.”
“Goop is a weird-ass way to put it,” Katsuki points out with obvious distaste. 
“Yeah, but he was a pretty goopy guy.” Chuckles ripple through the audience and you can’t help breaking a smile too at Kirishima’s joke. 
“I think for me, at least,” Denki adds, “the biggest pain was the fact that they were married, and they had, like, marriage telepathy or something.”
“Bro, I thought that was just me! Here I was, thinking that I’d incapacitated one and split them from the other, when bam! Both of them appear in front of me like a damn genie.” 
“You ever have to deal with villain couples, Bakubro?”
“Nah, not recently. We’ve been doing a lot of big raids on all the crime families downtown.” He flexes his right bicep and pulls back the sleeve of his shirt to show a gnarly purple spot growing on his skin. “Got this little beauty three days ago from a neo-Hassaikai asshole.” You're not fazed by the ugly shade of the wound because you were the one who stitched up the...less visible results of the raid.
“Jeez, man,” Denki says in disbelieving awe at his friend’s injury. “If you ever need backup, we’d love to do a team up with you.” 
“I think I’d rather die–”
“My agency would also love to team-up with you,” Kirishima interjects before Katsuki can finish his thought. The heart rate monitor of his publicist begins to rapidly beep behind you. “We can have a threeway team-up! That’d be pretty cool, don’t you guys think?” 
“What if we all just merged into one big super agency? Like a big family?”
“That sounds like the stupidest shit–” Again, Kirishima cuts off Katsuki’s brash protests and saves them from being taken off the air.
"That would be so awesome."
“Would that mean we’d have to get pro-hero partners, too? Keep hero work in the family?”
“I think Salonpas would have heart palpitations if we said we were trying to keep hero work within the family,” Katsuki points out and his friends nod in agreement. “On another fuckin’ note, that Half-and-Half idiot keeps hogging the number two spot and it pisses me off.” Though you didn’t often encounter Todoroki while you were on patrol, you knew that he was adamant about keeping work life and family life separate. It made him even more of a dedicated hero and a recent bust of a notorious crime ring bumped him into the number two spot over Dynamight for that month. You didn’t hear the end of it from Katsuki. 
“He and Deku just work really efficiently, Bakubro.”
“I can efficiently slam both their skulls into a–”
“You know what would solve that problem?” Denki butts in unceremoniously, covering up his harsh words for a third time. Katsuki grunts in response and the lightning-decorated hero gives him enthusiastic finger-guns. “Combining and making a family agency.”
“What are the chances that Sero would want to join too?”
“Probably pretty high,” Kirishima guesses. “He’s at my place every other week, anyway, so he’s basically my brother.”
“Alright, maybe this could actually work, then. I just need to find a smoking hot hero wife.”
“That’ll probably be the hardest part, buddy–”
“What about Bakugo?” You stiffen and the three guys turn their attention to a voice calling out from the audience. Speaking during the interviews was strictly prohibited until the question and answer section, but getting Katsuki’s attention was a surefire way to derail the entire episode.
“The fuck do you mean, what about Bakugo? Who the fuck said that?”
"Dude, just ignore them."
“Can’t be a family agency if Bakugo never gets into relationships,” the same nasally, irritating voice argues and your face feels like it’s been set on fire. Kirishima’s attention jumps to you for a moment and then back to his friend, whose palms are starting to spark like fireworks. “Do you just get no bitches, or something?” The audience gasps and security finally arrives to escort the disturbance out of the building. The director is ready to stop the cameras and jump to a commercial break, but Katsuki speaks before he can order the sound crew to cut the mics. To everyone’s surprise, his voice is nothing but amusement, like the insinuation didn’t bother him in the slightest. 
“You think I don’t get into relationships?”
“Bakugo…”
“It’s alright, Pikachu. I really don’t give a shit about whatever that guy said,” Katsuki reassures his friend with a sly glint in his eye. His friends watch him warily, like a grenade on the verge of exploding. Once again, burning red eyes meet yours with a single question that you answer with a resolute nod. “I’m not gonna blow up, so stop looking like that. Really, I don’t care.”
“Why not?” A tense beat of silence passes, then–
“I thought you people knew that I’m married.” A shit-eating grin spreads across your husband’s face as gasps of shock burst from the audience. Kirishima and Denki both shake their heads in exasperation. They knew already, of course, but they didn’t expect him to reveal his relationship status as a result of a heckler. “Yep, going on a year and a half, now. Around five years together total coming this winter.” More collective cries of jealousy, surprise, and betrayal shake the building’s foundation. "If you don't believe me, ask these guys."
"Yeah, we were at the wedding, too. It's hard to keep it a secret when all of your friends are also high-profile heroes."
“Can you guys believe that he fell in love during the winter?” Denki’s thumb juts out toward his friend, who frowns at the mere mention of cold weather.
“I fucking hate the winter,” he grumbles. 
“We know, man,” Kirishima says sympathetically, unsuccessfully hiding a chuckle. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”
“Yeah, and shit hasn’t changed,” Katsuki bites back with lighthearted indignance. “Look, they saved my ass when it was cold; how was I not supposed to fall in love with them?” To your delight, his complexion has turned a slightly darker shade of pink. “Yeah, I love them. What about it, asshats?”
“Is this a bad time to bring up the family agency again?”
“Let’s go to commercial before I blow this fucking chair to pieces.”
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loveharlow · 23 days
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i wanted to write a blurb inspired by this scene so i did🤭 girlhood!
domestic violence, dad!rafe
You were awoken by the sound of your daughters cries, loud and incessant. It was Rafe's turn — his night to take care of the midnight tantrums.
But a brief feel on his side of the bed told you he'd left the spot not too long ago, the sheets still slightly warm. You edged one eye open, making sure that he wasn't there before sighing and throwing the covers off of yourself.
Trotting over to the cradle where your three-month old daughter laid, throwing a fit, you shushed her. Picking the infant up out of the structure to rock her calmly, her cries dying out.
Once she was tame enough, you laid her in the automated rocker to be able to leave the room and make her a bottle, hopefully finding your husband on the way there.
One foot out of the bedroom door told you he was in the living room, the light radiating down the hall. You rolled your eyes, taking swift, angry steps towards the living area until you were right next to Rafe — the man on his knees, sniffing a line of coke in nothing but a tank-top and sweatpants.
He made a quick side-glance in your direction but continued his recreational activities. The mere disregard for your presence made you angry, angry enough that you snatched the credit card he was using to separate the lines from his hand, blowing the remaining drugs off of the table.
He stood up swiftly, looming over you with angry eyes. "The fuck are you doin'?" He spat, reaching for the card in your hand only for you to snatch it away further.
"What the fuck are you doing?" You retorted. "Did you not hear your daughter crying? Or your lines just couldn't wait?"
"I was gonna get her eventually-"
"After you'd ingested a crackhead's year supply of coke?"
"You're being...dramatic." He rolled his eyes, motioning for the item still clutched between your fingers. "Just give me my shit back, alright?"
"No." You said sternly, turning on your heel to head for the kitchen when a fist grabbed a handful of your hair, neck craning dangerously as Rafe used the hold to yank you against his chest.
"Give it to me." He growled against your ear, snatching the card from your hand and roughly shoving you away. "You already blew half my shit off the table..." He muttered. "I was gonna make her a bottle after, you just had to go and throw a fuckin' tantrum. Maybe you're the one who needs the bottle..."
"What I need is a husband who doesn't act like he has shit for brains."
"You wanna say that shit again?" He challenged, stepping into your space.
"What, so you can hit me? Go ahead, you can put it in the same spot as last time. Or are you trying to fill up the whole canvas?" You snarked.
You knew you regretted it when his free hand wound around your neck, squeezing tightly. Your own hand went up, desperately clawing at his. He used his hold on your neck to push you up against the nearest wall. "Watch that mouth of yours or it'll be the next thing I hit you in? You understand?"
You reluctantly nodded, as much as you could, taking in an appreciative gulp of air as he released you and let you slide to the floor, breathing heavily and clawing at the wooden tiles. You didn't notice that a couple stray tears had left your eyes until they hit the floor.
"Get yourself together and feed my daughter." He demanded, dismissing your distress. "Don't you hear her crying?"
©loveharlow.
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ohtobeleah · 1 year
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M.U.R.P.H // Bradley Bradshaw
Summary: An undisclosed pregnancy that you and your husband try keeping a secret ends up being the reason you end up in hospital during a PTI session with the Dagger Squad.
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: Pregnancy. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Mild Angst.
Author Note: Happy Saturday! This is pretty self indulgent but I final finished this one-shot that’s been in my drafts forever.
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“Alright team.” Pete Mitchell, although overworked and severely underpaid for the crap he put up with–grinned ear to ear at his group of elite Naval Aviators who sat before him after debriefing this morning's training exercise. “As you know, this weekend is Memorial Day weekend and the Admirals have decided to get a jump start on the events.” 
“Are we getting a long weekend?” Fanboy beamed hopefully as he sat up a little straighter. “Please tell me we’re getting a long weekend—“ He hoped that if he asked with enough conviction in his voice the answer would be yes. However, he hadn’t noticed you standing at the back of the room. A protective hand over your barely visible baby bump. Waiting for the right moment to make your presence known. Bob had noticed though—he was already dreading what was to come. He hated Memorial Day. Not because he didn’t want to pay respects to those who had fallen, no. He’d honour the fallen every damn day if he had to. 
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph.
You’d been his PTI during his time in Lamoore. You were the first Bradshaw he’d met and before he later Met Bradley Bradshaw and put two and two together that the two of you were married–nothing had ever made more sense. 
Bob’s heart had sunk into his ass when he found out you were being transferred to North Island. You were somewhat of a hard task master when it came to gruelling training sessions and Memorial Day always gave you free rein to send anyone packing with their tail between their legs if they couldn’t keep up. 
You were, however, a solid friend. When you weren’t working, you were the life of the party. The brightest smile in the room and always the one who everyone gravitated towards. Much like Bradley, you two always seemed to get the party started. Whether it was playing great balls of fire and singing at the top of your lungs—or starting an important dart night that saw a permanent tally board hung up beside the much too loved dartboard. There had been a time or two where you’d challenged the strongest of the bunch to an arm wrestle—Bob was always the first to bow at your bark. Not one to challenge anything you said, hell he’d do just about anything you told him to do….
So long as he didn’t have to participate in Murph. 
Bob had never been one to believe in soulmates before he saw you and Bradley together, he’d never met two people more suited for each other. But neither of you needed to hear that from him–you’d already managed to figure that out on your own. 
“No, Fanboy—“ Maverick sighed as he gestured for you to make your way to the front of the class. “No you aren’t getting a long weekend, what you are getting though, is a killer workout with PTI Bradshaw.” You heard the mixed reviews your introduction received. You’d only just recently finished running annual fitness testing for those who needed to be re-evaluated. So the idea of yet another gruelling workout tossed their way wasn’t what some of the aviators had in mind for a head start on the weekend. 
Jake Seresin and Javy Machado however? Oh they were wrapped. They loved a challenge—they adored you and they certainly came over the challenges you loved to hand out. 
“Morning everyone.” You beamed as you handed Rooster, you beloved husband, who sat in the front row with a soft grin, a pile of papers. “Take one and pass them along please Lieutenant Bradshaw.” Your fingers lingered across Bradley’s for a few seconds as he smiled softly back at you with heart shaped eyes. He always thought you looked so different with your hair pulled back into a ridiculously tight bun. Your uniform made you look so different, nothing like what you looked like at the Hard Deck with your hair out and mum jeans on. Sitting beside him at the piano playing great balls of fire. A Margarita in your hand and his glasses over your beautiful eyes. Nothing like what you looked like tucked into his side, hair splayed every which way and silk pyjamas adorning your beautiful body. 
“Physical Training Instructors play a key role in developing and maintaining the health, fitness and well-being of our airmen. In the United States Navy, physical fitness is absolutely essential in maintaining good health and overall wellbeing.” Pete Mitchell had been required to say that little statement prior to any session he handed over to you. “Regardless of Rank, PTI “Agony” Bradshaw will be your superior for the next two hours—with that I hand you over.”
“Thanks Mav.” You chuckled, appreciating the way you were so respected by the veteran aviator. PTI’s didn’t always have the best wrap—so when Maverick commanded the attention of everyone in the room on your behalf it gave you a little more confidence each and every time. “Alright flyboys—“ You teased, turning your attention to Phoenix so you could address her too. “And Flygirl, today we’re doing MURPH—“ 
Your declaration was met with a choir of dismay and disapproval from at least half of the team that sat before you. Suddenly their shoulders were a little more slouched and their faces plastered with existential dread when they started reading over the workout plan you'd had Bradley pass back. No one liked doing MURPH, except maybe Jake Seresin.
“Ma’am, I think that sounds like a great idea—“ Hangman sent you one of his thousand watt grins as he played with the toothpick that sat between his teeth. “Don’t you think your wife here comes up with some banger ideas, Rooster?” Bradley did think you had some good ideas, he wasn't going to let you know that though–if he did he knew his workouts, his Personal Training sessions and his Fitness Testing would just increasingly get harder and harder. It had only been by the skin of his goddamn nose that you passed his last Multi-Stage Fitness Test. Bradley Bradshaw was a hunk and with that meant he himself was not the most aerodynamic of the bunch–Bob had passed with flying colours, although you did nearly force him to restart his push-ups again when you caught him cheating on range. 
“She told me what she had planned last night Hangman, I’m ready to go, brought my pre workout in my bag and everything—“ Rooster just sighed as he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs as he brought his hands up to rest behind his head. “Piece of cake.” 
“I have never heard anyone say MURPH is a piece of cake.” Phoenix groaned. “Aggie, please–” 
“I don't make the rules, Lieutenant, I just enforce them.” You had gotten used to the love-hate relationship and animosity you received while you were in uniform, it was your job to make sure none of the navy’s finest aviators let their fitness fall to the wayside. “Now for those who don't know what MURPH is, i'll explain quickly then you can all take twenty to change, refuel, and meet me over in the gym.” As you pulled out the empty chair that sat vacant next to your husband, you used it as a footstool before propping yourself up on the desk. Clearing your throat before reading out the workout explanation on the sheet you'd distributed. 
“M.U.R.P.H is a hero WOD dedicated to Michael P. Murphy, the first service member to receive the Medal of Honor for service in Afghanistan, during a Memorial Day event on Bagram Airfield, Afghanistan, May 24, 2015.” Although there were more people sitting before you who didn't like the idea of such a gruelling workout, they did respect the fallen. “Michael's favourite workout was dedicated to him after his passing and thus, will be your workout today.” You felt the stomachs of everyone, all but Jake And Javy who just sat a little straighter in their chairs, drop.
“Today you will complete a one mile run, 100 pull-ups, expected to be chest to bar, 200 push-ups, 300 bodyweight squats, and to finish up we’ll run another mile.” Bradley crept a hand around your calf, thumbing your uniform as he squinted his eyes and bit his bottom lip, hoping you wouldn't add anything else to the list…..He should have known better. But he couldn't hold a grudge against you–not when you were four months pregnant and glowing. You were hiding your pregnancy well, it wasn't that you didn't want your friends and family to know, it's just you wanted to revel in the experience with Bradley for a little while longer before telling everyone you were both expecting. “Usually the twenty pound weight vest would be optional, but boys and girls you are some of the Navy’s finest Aviators, so you will all complete this course while wearing a twenty pound vest, none-notable people.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*
In the locker room, Nomex Flight Suits had been discarded for workout gear. Standard issue work boots had been replaced by trainers, and any and all standards of professionalism had gone out the window. It was the one thing everyone actually did enjoy about having you as their PTI, you weren’t big on formality. As long as respect was there you couldn’t give a rats ass about if people swore at you or razzed you. It made the job just a little bit more enjoyable. 
The last thing anyone wanted to do while they were working out was keep a rigid and professional persona. 
“Man, sometimes I hate your wife.” Phoenix grumbled as the group walked out of the locker room with towels slung over their shoulders and copious amounts of pre-workout scooped into shakers. Bradley couldn't help but to laugh, he loved you so much, the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger was there to prove it. The tattoos of your name on his left ass cheek was also there to prove it. 
“I wouldn't let her hear you say that.” Bradley paused as he took a swig of his pre-workout before handing it to Jake who looked like he was pumping himself up for the fight of his life. “She’ll ‘accidentally’ forget to count your reps and make you start again.” 
“This is surely a form of torture–” Fanboy added as he trailed behind with Bob. 
“It's a hero WOD Fanboy–respect the dead.” Jake hissed, he was as keen as, the only one in the group who hadnt had a negative thing to say about your workout plan. “I don't know why you guys aren't more excited.”
“Unlike you Hangman, most of us aren't gluttons for punishment.” Payback teased as he came to sling an arm around Jake's shoulders. “Or degradation, considering the unholy things I've seen in your search history.” Jake and Bradley had grown closer in the past few years that saw them in North Island permanently, there had been more times than you could count where the two of them would stumble back to your humble abode, drunk out of their minds. There had even been a time or two where you'd caught them spooning on the couch when Rooster couldn't take the stairs in his drunken state. 
“None of which compare to what Bradsaw probably cops in the bedroom.” Jake was quick to turn the attention back on Rooster, sending him a smirk over his shoulder as he took a quick sip of the pre-workout they were sharing and handed it over. “Huh Rooster? Agony probably has you wrapped around her little finger.” It was no secret amongst the group that you were a power house PTI, you didn’t dish out any workout you couldn't do with your eyes closed, something that the Daggers really valued about you was your integrity. You were honest and kind and above all, you levelled with them. You weren't a hypocrite and you, as much as you hated your job some days, the constant pressure, the delayed onset muscle soreness, the gruelling workouts and the sweat, you led by example and practised what you preached. 
That didnt mean you and Bradley wouldn't reserve Friday nights for takeout and chocolate. 
“That she does.” Was all Bradley replied with, “Have you fucking seen her? She’d kick my ass any day of the week if I gave her any ounce of crap.” He was without a shadow of a doubt whipped, but Bradley had always been that way with you–ever since he met you at his first water survival training weekend, he was down bad. He’d been assigned to your little group that first Saturday and you sent his heart into the stratosphere the first time you smiled at him. He was still unsure if it had ever come back or if your unconditional love and admiration just kept it hovering in the ozone layer. 
“She looks like she's glowing.” Bob remarked as the group mixed with nervousness, existential dread and far too much ego radiating of one particular member made their way across the tarmac to the base gym you could be found in any given day of the week. It was your home away from home. Kitted out with state of the art equipment, a spacious and functional environment that was welcoming and motivating. “She's far too excited about this, oh my god.” 
Bradley knew you were glowing, but he also knew it wasn't because you were excited. He knew that it was because of the little one growing inside you, a mix of him and you. He kind of hoped it was a boy, but everyone always told him he’d make a good girl dad. Regardless–he just wanted to be a dad, his biggest achievement by far would be being a good dad.
“She really is.” Bradley beamed as he heard the unmistakable tune of AJR’s Burn The House Down blasting through your speakers, reading over the workout plan one final time as you sat on the sled track, legs sprawled as you hummed away in your own little word. Twirling the pen you held in your hand absentmindedly, Bradley’s voice brought you out of your concentration. Alerting you that the team was ready to be put through their paces. “We’re hear for your torture session, Agony, don’t hold back on Hangman though, he’s been gloating since, well–forever really.” Bradley teased as he offered you a gentle hand, helping you rise up from the felt sled track. You immediately felt a dizziness unparalleled to anything you'd ever experienced before. So much so you fought off the urge to succumb to the feeling of descent as you stumbled and stammered for a second. 
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Lieutenant.” You smiled, exhaling as you steadied your equilibrium. Bradley caught on immediately that you were feeling slightly uneasy, placing a soft hand against the small of your back as you cleared your throat and rolled up your sleeves a little. “Alright, So I’ve measured out half a mile along the airfield, so it's half a mile to and half a mile back– You can either run the tarmac or use the treadmill.” You explained to everybody standing around  listening in to what you had to say. 
“Can we break up the reps Y/n?” Payback asked as he shouldered Bob, forcing him to lose his footing slightly, stumbling for a second as he sent Payback look. “Or is it strictly 100, 200, 300?” 
“I don't care what you guys do so long as you get it done.” Your tone made Fanboy shiver, you could be a hard task master when you wanted to be. “Start warming up and we’ll get this show on the road.” Bradley was quick to sneak a peck on the cheek when the group started to disperse, all except for Hangman a little on edge about what was to come. 
“You feeling alright darlin?” He cooed, walking with you over to your desk where you’d left your water bottle. 
“Your baby is the size of a pear at the moment and she's already giving me a hard time.” Neither you nor Bradley wanted to know if you were having a boy or a girl, you wanted it to be a surprise, both having made lists that kept growing with names galore. “I'm just starting to feel really sluggish, which is hard to hide when I'm usually the energiser bunny on base.” 
“Dr. Richards did say you’d need to pull back a little the further along you get baby." It was hard to accept that you would eventually have to slow down, up until about two weeks ago you had been fine, apart from the morning sickness you had dealt with in the first trimester. Bradley respected your boundaries when you were both at work, knowing professionalism in the workplace was important to you, however–that didn't stop him from discreetly placing a gentle hand atop your stomach, finding the small baby bump hiding under your work uniform. The camo green fabric warping around your naval under his palm. “But that doesn't mean you're not any less capable, just means you’re growing our little boy which in my opinion, is pretty spectacular.” 
“Just means we’ll need to tell everyone sooner rather than later Roo.” You sighed, taking a sip of your water, not knowing that Phoenix had spotted the gentle touch of your husband's hand resting on your stomach for a brief moment. Her eyes wide in shock as her jaw slacked slightly. Phoenix though, the master of recovery, disguised her surprise when you turned around to round up the gang that were all in the process of warming up in some way shape or form. “Alright, we can stagger the start for those who aren't warm enough–” You side eyed Bradley as he scoffed at you, leaving your side to join his colleagues. “
“Let's go boys and girl, we’re doing Murph baby!” Jake hollered out, clapping his hands down on Javys shoulders, pumping each other up as you laughed, a smile creeping across your face. “Bradshaw! You gonna try keep up with the big boys?” 
“Think I might taxi with Bob.” Bradley replied, jogging on the spot before giving his lower back a little twist side to side. Bob just rolled his eyes, to the untrained eye he was the kind of guy who kept his shirt on during beach days, but he thoroughly enjoyed cardio. If Rooster's plan had been to taxi with him during the mile run he was in for a rude shock, but Bob knew he was gonna lose time in the pull-up department. “You ready to go man?” 
“As ready as I'll ever be for this kind of workout.” Bob groned. “If I say I twisted my ankle now, do I still have to participate?” The group all laughed at the near winge that left Bob's mouth, he really wasn't up for this today–but what you came back with made the gym explode with boisterous laughter. 
“If you dont be careful Lieutenant Floyd l’ll pack an extra pound into your weight vest.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
Phoenix saw her opportune moment to strike about half way through the first half mile. Bradley was starting to show a red hume across his face, a thin layer of sweat had started to form across his forehead and Phoenix knew that if he was focusing hard enough on keeping his pace steady with one foot in front of the other, she knew he was in no position to formulate a lie. 
“So–Bradshaw.” Phoenix started as she came up to jog beside Rooster. “How far along is she?” 
“How far along is who?” Bradley replied as he kept his head straight, focused on the marker up ahead that indicated the turn around point. Watching as Jake and Javy booked it around one another, racing ahead of the rest of the group who had all opted to taxi their way through this. 
“Agony, she's pregnant.” Phoenix spoke with such conviction that Bradley found it near impossible to try and formulate a lie that would cover up the truth of the matter. “I saw you put your hand on her stomach, and I know you wouldnt do that if she wasnt pregnant.” 
“She's feeling a little off today, little spud is kicking her around a little.” It was all the conformation Phoenix needed to let out a little squeal as she beamed at Rooster, smacking him in the shoulder. “Ow!” 
“Why would you keep this from us! Rooster! That's amazing, congratulations!” 
“We just wanted to enjoy it for a while, just us, we haven't even told her parents yet.” Bradley explained as he made it to the turnabout point with Phoenix, both keeping each other's pace. “She's four months, we don't wanna know the sex, but everything is going the way it should, doc said she’ll need to start pulling back soon though.” 
“Ah, so thats why she isn’t participating in the torture.” Phoenix had picked up on the fact you weren’t participating today, she thought it was odd that you weren't but wasn't about to question it. She was scared you'd match her attitude and give her an extra 100 push ups. “Mrs Bradshaw is knocked up.” 
“Yeah.” Bradley chuckled, he liked the sound of that. “I had to beg her not to last night when I saw the MURPH file sitting out on the dining table, got down on my knees and everything.” 
“You couldn't have just talked her out of the whole plan entirely?” Phoenix whined, starting to feel a little more puffed from talking as she jogged with Bradley. Starting to really feel herself warming up. 
“Oh trust me, I tried that too.” Bradley explained, laughing as he remembered how that conversation ended. “She seduced me just to get me to shut up.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time Rooster and Phoenix got back to the hanger turned gym, Jake and Javy were already going ten reps for ten reps with their pull ups. Bob, Fanboy and Payback were just standing there, watching as they caught their breath and waited for Rooster and Phoenix to return. 
“Alright ladies, now that everyones back, there's no rest for the wicked.” You turned up the volume on the speaker you stood by before making your way over. “Lets hussle, clocks still ticking and the faster you get this done the less time you have to spend here with me.” 
Fanboy groaned as he turned to Bob, sharing a painful look of ‘I'm over this already.’ 
“How are you gonna break this up, Roo?” You cooed, coming to stand by your husband as you watched Payback and Phoenix get to work on the rig, everyone was working on their pull ups first. “If it was me i'd do ten at a time.” 
“I think I should be able to manage twenty-five at a time.” He smiled, mumbling under his breath in your ear as he leaned in to kiss your earlobe. “Phoenix knows you're pregnant by the way.” 
“What!?” You gasped. “How did she find out! You said we weren’t gonna tell anyone yet?” 
“Saw me touch your stomach before, figured it was a little sus.” Bradley cooed. “I'm sorry.” 
“No, no don't be, it was bound to happen sooner or later.” You accepted the reality, watching as your group worked through their reps, taking notice of Bob who was severely lacking in his rep range. “Floyd! Chin to bar!” 
“Yeah Bob, chin to bar.” Hangman added, laughing with that thousand watt grin he was known for. “Bradshaw! Stop trying to flirt your way out of this!” 
“That's my cue.” Bradley groaned, throwing his head back as he ran his hands through sweat covered locks. “Play nice please.” 
“Nope, hop to it Lieutenant–” You bit back, biting your bottom lip as you cautiously and ever so discreetly slapped Bradley on the arse, watching as you sauntered away with a little more pep in his step. 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“I feel like my arms are gonna pop off!” Next was the push ups. Mickey groaned as he did his set of twenty as you came to kneel beside him. “You’re a vicious and cruel woman.” 
“Well I guess Agony is rather fitting, isn't it Fanboy?” you questioned through a soft laugh as you pressed a hand between his shoulder blades. “Retract your scaps, you're relying too much on your triceps, put the pressure through your chest and your longevity will increase.” 
“If i wasn't so mad i'd say thankyou.” He groaned, keeping on keeping on with his reps. As soon as he was done, Rooster started his, same as Payback. 
“Hmm, I'll take it.” You ruffled Mickey's hair, wiping the sweat you collected onto the thigh of your pants as you stood, feeling light headed as you rose too quickly. “Oh–” Your vision blurred momentarily as a slight ringing in your ears rang out, you tried to breathe through it, but you couldn't catch the feeling. 
“Hey Aggie, you okay?” It was Hangman who noticed that you were looking a little unsteady at first, but as soon as the words were leaving his mouth? You were going down. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as the dizziness from standing too quickly took over you entirely. “Oh shit!” It normally wouldn't have been an issue, but you'd been feeling a little unsteady all day. “Y/n–” Hangman was quick to move to break your fall, catching you in his arms before you could hit the ground. “Rooster! Get over here will ya?” Jake called out, Bradley hadnt seen you fall, he was too busy focusing on his push-ups. “It's Y/n.” 
“What's wrong?” Bradley asked as he stood, noticing you passed out in Jake's arms. “Oh my god, hey–” He cooed, tapping your cheek softly as he crouched beside you on the other side of Jake, the whole ordeal had grabbed the attention of all the aviators you had in your gym. “Hey, darling, you okay? Open your eyes for me baby.” 
You did, slowly, fluttering your eyelids with a soft groan as you tried to sit up, still feeling dizzy.
“Woah–easy there killer, what's going on? I've never seen you pass out like that before.” Although Jake was technically addressing you, Bradley held a palm to your forehead as he pressed his lips together, watching as you struggled to focus on what was going around you. 
“She’s pregnant–” The gym went completely silent at Bradley’s major announcement. “I gotta get her to the hospital in case there's something wrong.” 
“Bradley, I'm fine.” You tried to reason with your husband as he scooped you up and into his arms, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he stood. “I promise, I just felt a little light headed is all.” 
“Yeah, no I don't care, we’re getting you checked out.” There was a distinct shift in Bradley’s tone, before he was playful, enjoying the workout as much as he could but now? He was as serious as ever, nothing was more important to him than you, his family. 
“Bradley, I'm in the middle of instructing a class.” Again you tried to defend the unnecessary need to go get checked out. You really didn’t feel like it was that big of an issue. “I can’t just leave? Everyone needs—“ Before you could finish, Bradley was interrupting. 
“Guys? you good?” Bradley turned around, addressed the totally stunned and flabbergasted group who just looked at him like he’d just dropped a major bomb on them. That his wife was expecting, you were gonna be a mother, and he, Bradley Rooster Bradshaw, was gonna be a dad. “You know what you’re doing don't you?” 
“Uh, yeah–” Bob started. 
“We’re good.” Payback stammered.
“We’ll be fine, just go make sure everything’s okay.” Phoenix added. 
“What do you mean Y/n’s pregnant!?” Hangman asked, standing there with wide eyes and a confused expression. Bradley didn’t respond, he simply turned on his heels and continued on his way, carrying you over to the admin building on base to get you checked out. 
“Do I need to have the sex education talk with you Seresin?” Phoenix teased. “Did your parents never give you the birds and the bees talk?” Jake just sent her a look. 
“You fucking knew didnt you?” He called Phoenix on her cool calm and collected manor. Something was up. 
“Only for like twenty more minutes than you.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
“Take a picture, it’ll last long.” You pouted from your position on the hospital bed, hooked up to a heart rate monitor. Bradley sat beside you, hand in yours as he just stared at you. Trying to get a read on how you were actually feeling because he knew you weren’t telling him the truth. 
“Woah, that was incredibly rude, Mrs Bradshaw.” Bradley teased as he let go of your hand, leaning back in the chair he sat perched in. stretching his arms up over his head, enough so that the bottom of his shirt pulled up, exposing his lower abdomen for a second. An incredible sight. “I'm just doing what any good husband would do, you know, making sure your health is in top priority.” 
“I'm A Personal Training Instructor for the United States Navy.” You reminded your husband, deadpanning him as you swirled your palm across your stomach. Stupid hospital gown covering your small bump. “Uncle Sam pays me to make sure you keep your health in tip top shape, it's not the other way around.” Bradley sent you a childish lok as his snickered back at you as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Listen, I’m fine, I'm just not used to my equilibrium being so off, I got up too quick and lost my balance, I'm fine.” 
“Why don't we let the doctor be the judge of that?” Bradley sighed, leaning forward as he rose from his seat to kiss your cheek. You just accepted the loving gesture as he cupped your cheeks, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. “I just worry about you, because I love you and if anything ever happened to you I wouldn't be able to forgive myself for not doing enough when I could have.” 
“Good thing I love you more huh?” You cooed, watching as Bradley sat back down as Doctor Richard’s entered the room. 
“That my dear, is not possible.” Rooster just managed to get his reply in before Doctor Richards smiled. 
“Well the good thing is there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with bubs from the ultrasound.” She explained as she read through your chart. “But it seems as though you’re experiencing some bouts of low blood pressure Mrs Bradshaw.” 
“Low blood pressure?” Bradley questioned. “That can just happen? Y/n doesn’t have low blood pressure?” He was right, you didn’t, but you seemed to have it now. 
“I can assure you Mr. Bradshaw it’s a very common occurrence during the first twenty four weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn’t be too alarmed as long as you manage it.” Doctor Richards addressed you as you sat up a little straighter in your bed. 
“How would you like me to do that Doc?” You asked with a sigh, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy being pregnant. You did and you were so excited for your little one to arrive. What was annoying though was the fact you had been told to slow down, take things easy, enjoy the time you had with your baby. You were naturally a physically active person. Slowing down just wasn’t in your DNA. 
“Take it easy. Try to slow down a little? I understand you’re a PTI? Perhaps avoiding strenuous activity for the time being will help.” Doctor Richards explained. “Try to avoid making sudden movements, like standing up too quickly. It shouldn’t be a long term thing but for now? Monitor your systems, drink plenty of water to stay hydrated to increase your blood volume.” 
“Aye aye captain.” You groaned, saluting Dr. Richards as you slumped a little. Rooster caught onto your bad mood instantly, deciding to take over the conversation for you. 
“We’ll do our best Doc, thanks for checking up on her.” 
“Anytime—I’ll have your charts done up and send a discharge notice to the ladies at Reception.” She explained before leaving the room, giving you and Bradley a moment alone. He was silent as you walked Ike’s at him. Expecting him to say he told you so. 
“You feelings alright?” He asked softly. 
“I’m fine—just need a moment to truly process that my career is over.” You groaned, lying back as you faught of tears, it was the hormones, but not really. You just knew this day was coming. 
“What are you talking about?” Bradley asked, concern lacing his tone of voice as he sat as close to you as he possibly could. “Darlin—?” 
“If I can’t train, I can’t tell others to train. I can’t be a hypocrite.” You explained as tears fell down your cheeks. “I’ll go on maternity leave and lose my strength, my endurance, my body is already changing and I can only imagine what it’ll be like after having this beautiful baby.” You were well aware how crazy you sounded but it’s how you felt. “Bradley, I hope you don’t take this as me not loving every single moment of this because I am—“ You sobbed as Braldey held your hand and brought it to his lips. “I’m just scared of how becoming a mother is gonna affect the career I worked so hard to build.” 
“I understand baby.” Bradley tried his best to console you, he wasn’t going to tell you that none of what you were worried about was going to happen. He knew that there was a possibility it could. It had happened to other women before you and it would certainly happen after. “But if anyone can manage being a wonderful, caring mother and a fierce, incredibly talented career woman it’s you.”
“You think so?” You couldn’t help but to scoff lightly through your tears as you turned your head to look at your husband, so thankful for his every strong presence and support. 
“Honey I know so, we’ll do whatever it takes to get you right back to where you were before this little one came along.” He smiled, helping you sit up. “But let’s focus on you now? Alright, keep that blood pressure from dropping, keep you healthy and happy mama.” 
“Oh god!” You remembered the fact Bradley had mentioned to every single Dagger that you were pregnant. “Oh my god Roo, they’re gonna tackle us!” You leaned forward into your husband's chest as he laughed and kissed the top of your head. “I guess we better get back and get it over with huh?” 
“Yeah, better to rip the Band-Aid off fast than to drag it out.” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***
By the time you got back to base, the entire Dagger Squad was waiting back in the rec room. When you and Bradley entered cautiously, they all stood up as if they were expecting life altering news. 
“Is everything alright?” Bob asked, you never thought his eyes could get any bigger—but as he looked at you with hope filled eyes, you knew you’d been wrong. 
“Everything’s fine.” You smiled, wrapping your arm around Rooster's torso. Pulling him close as he sighed and filled in the gaps. 
“Mum and Bub are doing well, just got a little low blood pressure to manage but other than that? Everything else seems to be just fine.” Everyone went quiet, all silently thanking the heavens above and those in it that nothing major had occurred. Until Fanboy said what everyone was thinking—
“Can we go back to the part where you’re pregnant and didn’t tell any of us?” 
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**
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randomoutsiders · 1 year
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cw: neteyam x na'vi!reader, reader experiences heat for the first time, and she's in need of help. set in the forest. both reader and neteyam are 20! slight fingering, p in v, a little oral (fem!receiving), gagging, cursing, unprotected sex, creampie, nicknames
word count: 3.4k
-
clement fingers unwind ornate braids, pulling each strand of hair out of its constraints and allowing it to fall in cascading whisps against your shoulder blades.
"do you think i'll ever experience it?" the query is quiet, laced with despondency.
"you will have your day." the woman murmurs, continuing in her work.
"but kiri has already had hers." your cheek turns to find neytiri's face. "and she's younger."
"everyone is different, sweet child." her ears perk up, head swiveling to the right to voyage for the sound of heavy feet, of the presence of her husband. "ma jake." she breathes, smiling impishly at his arrival, and her chin dipping down in her hello.
"nothing for you to worry about." when she's finished her tasks, her hands clasp around your tensing shoulders.
"well, uh, just wanted to check in and see how you're feeling." he inquires of his wife.
"well, uh, just wanted to check in and see how you're feeling." he inquires of his wife.
"i am doing fine. this month shall pass as normal." neytiri affirms, rising to her feet, deft fingers swatting at the flecks of dirt that have embedded themselves into her flesh after the long period of sitting cross-legged.
"and uh, you?" jake's tone is laden with discomfiture, tongue peeking out to smooth over his drying lips. one would surmise that after your many months of being with his son, the poor man would learn to shake off this cloak of tension, of... awkwardness, to put it plainly.
"i'm doing alright." your cheeks dimple with the meek smile that presses at your lips.
"well, neteyam's down at the water with tuk." he provides, quirking a suggestive eyebrow.
"oh don't you dare." neytiri's voice lilts up in a joyous laugh, swatting at her mate's pectoral and stalking off in the other direction.
jake's tale swats relentlessly against his thigh, and he's bounding after her, teasing digits prodding into her slim waist and yanking gasping giggles from the base of her throat.
the sight of it draws a chortle out of you, and your rising on sore appendages, joints aching and forcing you to shake the languid limbs back to life.
the voyage to the river is elementary, the various protruding roots and branches etched deep into the crevices of your brain as you flit around and over them.
"she's here! she's here!" comes a bounding voice, child-like cadence echoing around the trees as you make your appearance.
"tuk, my darling!" the young girl bounds into your open arms, dewy skin sticky against your own after her recent bathing.
"your hair. it's different." it's the first thing she notices, fingering at the unencumbered strands with a middle of fascination and confusion.
"thought i'd try something new," you fib, placing the girl back on the damp ground.
"i like it." tuk beams.
"why don't you go find lo'ak, hm? go bug him a bit." a deeper baritone enters the conversation, quickly accompanied by soft lapping of water against the forest ground.
"but-"
"we'll talk soon, kiddo, yeah?" there's a brush of a thumb against her smiling cheek and a gentle pinch at her chin. "straight to lo'ak, yes? he's at the canopies."
"alright, alright." she concedes. "but we can play too?"
"tuk." her older brother groans, the man pressing at her shoulder to initiate her movement.
"yes, darling. i promise we'll play."
with another toothy grin, the youngest is running off, hopefully with a lack of mischief and disobedience.
"your hair. it looks nice." he mirrors his sister, touching at it and spinning it around his digits.
"it's just so i can wash it." you reveal the truth. "care to join me?" you wade deeper into the lake, until water is lapping at your thighs.
digits toy impishly at the strings of your loincloth, pulling it free of its constraints and tossing it in his direction on dry land. next, your hands drift upward at your leisure, tantalizingly slow as you unhook the various beads that cradle your chest. they quickly follow the path of your 'clothing'
the man catches them with practiced ease, setting them delicately on the ground. "i don't think i could say no if i tried." he croons, flashing a smile as he undoes his own loincloth.
"i know." you turn in. your spot, drifting through the water until you're properly under the tumultuous flow of water from the waterfall above.
the heavy weight of your hair draws your head back, hands smoothing back the sodden locks and revealing pert breasts.
your eyes are closed, hidden from your environment, ears blocked by the near-roar of the rushing water. it seems as though ample time passes before warm palms find the bends of your hips, smoothing over the wet surface and then curling around the globes of your ass.
"hi." you breathe, blinking through the droplets that seem to glue to your lashes.
"hello." neteyam chortles, a feather-like kiss being smeared against the crown of your skull. "you feelin' alright? did you finally get your heat?"
the topic yanks at your innards, and your lips momentarily downturn into a frown. "not yet.. unfortunately not. you'd know."
"that's alright, sweet girl." he coos, running a thumb over the twitching base of your tail.
"i just want to be mated to you, already." the purl rolls of your tongue while his lips dance a ghostly tango over your own, taunting you with the concept of a kiss.
his breath hitches at the thought, and he delves in, drawing you in for a tighter embrace. he suckles at your bottom lip, pulling a whine from your lips and using the opportunity to press his tongue in.
it's smooth; unforced, and comfortable against your own, the muscle hot and unrelenting. his fingers trail further down until he's able to press a middle finger against your hole.
you careen into his balmy touch, gasping into the open cavern of his mouth. "attagirl, baby. always so pliable, aren't you?" neteyam taunts, retracting from your eager lips to smooth docile kisses along your mandible.
"net.." you drawl, fingers pressing into the muscle of his shoulder and hissing when he manages to press a digit into your warm heat.
"yes, sweet girl?" he pulls away once more, retracting and using the same hand to wind around your torso.
your jaw falls slack at the sudden lack of pressure, of sensation. "that was so rude!" a gentle slap at his chest, and yet you're not retracting, allowing the male to hug you properly. "you're such a tease."
"thought you wanted to shower, baby."
"you know i'm not going to turn down a little extra." you bite back.
"hm. i know. but i can't properly fuck you in here, can i?" despite such a comment, he's slanting downward, drawing a wet nipple into his mouth. exposing his canines, he applies gentle pressure to the sensitive flesh surrounding it, anchoring him in to properly draw his tongue over the pert bud.
"i do.. like that though." your fingers tangle in his braids, anchoring him effectively in his spot.
his head bobs affirmatively before detaching. "yeah, i know. i'm good at what i do, aren't i?" he pinches roughly at the abandoned breast, prising a drawn out moan from your chest.
"... yeah."
"yeah." he echoes with a coy grin. "come on then, you silly thing. turn around. so i can actually wash your hair."
the trek back to dryer land is a giggling one, chock-full of cheeky ass grabs and wriggling fingers into exposed rib cages.
"my hair is beyond tangled, now. fuck." you curse, dipping down to grab at your respective clothing to redress. "your mother is going to kill me."
"keep it like that." neteyam snips, adjusting his softening cock in his garb. "i like it. easier to grab and pull."
"you're such a fuck. no way i'm keeping it now." you return. "but thank you for showering with me. i love you."
"i love you too." fingers dance over your queue as he leans in for a soft kiss.
you oblige accordingly. "i'll see you at dinner, yeah? i have to go help prepare for the other women."
"sure thing, sweetheart. have fun. and hey." he catches your wrist before you have the chance to get too far.
"hm?"
"we'll be forever one day, okay? and we don't need a heat to give us that." he assures you, quirking a brow.
"thank you, my sweet." you draw his hand to your lips, kissing at his knuckles. "maybe next month, right?"
"right. we've got all the time in the world."
-
it begins when you're splaying mats under hand-woven canopies, maneuvering unruly corners to lay down flat; void of bumps and petulant ridges.
it's a mild affliction, one that you coin with your persistent posture of being on your hands and knees. it gnaws at the base of your spine, and you sit back on your heels, pressing a palm there to try and ease it away.
however, once you rise on drowsy legs, it's bleeding into your abdomen, dragging its cruel claws over and through your navel.
you're forced to brace your weight on a nearby branch, forcing the air out of your lungs. another hand presses at your navel with the fruitless hopes of quelling the discomfort.
"you doing' alright over there?" jake's fatherly concern rears its head from his position across the small stretch of land. the tiny areas are separated by stretches of about 100 feet, covered by domes of various strings, beads, and interwoven fabrics to provide privacy and sanction.
"um, yeah. i think so?" you suck in a lungful of air. "i think i just need some water." you straighten your spine to the best of your ability, ignoring - once again, to your best ability - the burden of its angry weight.
"here." the man offers you, once you've found his side.
"thank you. you're very kind." you sip tentatively at the beverage. "i must have done something wrong. moved wrong."
"potentially." his eyebrows pinch in concern. "either way, you're all done, kid. go take a break. neytiri's over there with the others with some food."
"thank you, mr. sully." your lips press into a grateful simper. "i appreciate it."
"it's jake!" he bellows after your retreating figure, to which you turn cheek and flash a smile.
when you find neytiri, she's quick in ushering a plate of food into your hands. "here, child. do you know where my son is?"
"he shouldn't be far." you pull your shoulders up in a shrug, accepting the offer with a token of thanks.
when you go to retract, however, the woman's hand lingers. "you're hot."
"excuse me?" you choke on the saliva in the back of your throat, twitching at the sudden pang of pain that stabs at your lower belly.
"you're hot, sweet child. you're hot to the touch. are you feeling alright?" she presses the back of her blue hand against your forehead, despite your initial retraction.
before your lips even have the chance to part, she's pulling the plate of food from your limp grasp. "i think this is it." she whispers, a titter on her lips. "it is your time."
your face drops - of excitement or disappointment - you're unsure. "really?"
"really. come, come." she ushers you away from the gathering of people. "where is my son?" she then hisses for the second time under her breath.
she glances up, peering up at the sky for both ikran and the harsh beams of the full moon. her golden irises squint against the rough glare of it. "you. sit down." she instructs, forcing you into a seated position, despite your complaints.
the mat underneath you is soft, and you're uncomplaining of the comfort of it. "you need rest until neteyam makes his return. lay down, child."
you obey, for both your own comfort and of fear of retribution from the powerful woman. she reaches above you drawing the canopy closed above and around you.
however, before it completely closes, she rests a gentle hand against your ankle. "i see you." she whispers kindly. "thank you for your kindness in my family. of joining it. of tolerating my eldest son."
"i see you." you return. "thank you for allowing me."
one wink, and the cloth flutters shut, and the woman exits to give you your deserved privacy.
with this sudden moment of silence, of pause from the hustle and bustle of preparing for the women's monthly heat, and you're suddenly more aware than ever of how agonizing this pain is.
it wreaks at your whole body now, twisting its evil tendrils around each of your limbs and tightening, rendering you nearly immobile. your back arches off the mat, staccato breaths filtering from your lips before afflicted whines bite quickly after.
an invisible hand clamps around your jugular, voiding you of all the air in your lungs, and yet you're still crying out, grappling at the earth for some non-existent remedy to the malady that's taking control.
heat is licking at your navel, up your breasts and over your jaw, sheening your body with thick perspiration. it then delves between your parted thighs and forces them into a tremor.
you're gasping for air, fingers fumbling blindly at your various pieces of clothing to rid of them, attempting to find even a guise of coolness. the fabric is discarded beside you, beads finding their place beside it and there's no relief.
slick is pooling and dripping from your sopping cunt, wetting and staining the material below. there's a swish, a brush of cool air through your secluded corner and a sudden presence.
"hey, hey, hey." his voice is a solace as if the smooth trill of it is but a hand on the dial to lower the volume of your thrumming heart. "i'm here, i'm here." he breathes. "i'm gonna take good care of you, okay, baby? gonna help you."
"it hurts." affliction twinges at your vocal cords. "please."
"easy, my love. you'll get it.." he pauses, pushing himself onto his forelimbs to nose at your inner thigh, wet gasps quickly following his diction as the scent of you filters through his nose.
"for fuck's sake, i.." his voice trails off, cock painfully hard against his abdomen. he trails a tentative tongue, laid flat against your dewy flesh, up to your pussy, gathering your moisture on the muscle and groaning audibly at the taste of it.
"let me just get a taste... please?" he takes your mewl as a node of approval, immediately sealing his lips around your pulsating bud and nursing at it.
it's momentary satiation, but you're still quick to grapple at his braids, giving them a firm tug to drag him properly up to meet your parted lips.
"i told you your time would come." he muses, taunting you as he voyages blindly around the canopy for your braid.
"didn't tell me it would hurt this bad." you warble through impeding tears, the man finding your queue and thumbing delicately over it.
"okay, sweetheart, y'ready?" he reaches behind him to find his own, the soft whisps of hair falling limply to the side to reveal neural tendrils.
"y-yeah." trepidation is squeezing anxiously at your heart.
neteyam hums in approval, observing as the strands intertwine and interlock, sealing your souls and anchoring them in place.
his fingers start to tremble as your torment begins to seep into his own bones, and he releases a pained groan.
"okay, okay, baby." he seethes through clenched teeth.
he doesn't bother with pulling the confines of his loincloth off, merely pulling his throbbing cock up and out. it slaps angrily at his abdomen, the purplish head spilling with lubrication.
your legs press further apart, your hands hooking under the bends of your knees and allowing the male easier access.
"good girl, sweetheart. good girl." he pushes forward, first prodding against your groin in his sightless voyage of your cunt, whining quietly at the overstimulation of it.
you aid him, reaching down to grip the base of him and gently guiding him to the warmth of your heat.
the sensation is not of unfamiliar territory, and yet it's foreign, strangely new when he bottoms out, balls pressing tightly against your backside.
you quiver, neteyam's body now flush against your own. the planes of his pectorals cool against your hot breasts. he ruts quickly, akin to a dog in rut, hips pistoning roughly against your pelvis. his tail swishes excitedly at the feeling, curling, and tickling at the top of his spine.
"net.." you drawl, eyebrows pinching.
"shhhh, you're alright. you're alright. feel so fuckin' good too." the golden hue of his optics is hidden behind his eyelids, every brain cell focused on the quick rhythm of his thrusts.
"kiss me." fingers curl around the nape of his neck and draw him in close, lips molding against one another in a messy clash, teeth clanking together in slipshod embraces.
he grips tightly at your newly-freed locks, anchoring you in place. "told you i liked it like this, pretty thing."
"nghh.." the sound filters into his mouth. "'m gonna cum." you purl, hips swiveling to find much-needed friction.
"quit movin'." his hands find your hips and pin you against the floor, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against it.
lewd sounds drift through your seclusion, your pussy squelching with each pounding into the wet heat of it, your damp flesh slapping against his own with such fortuity that rosy hues of impending bruises are dancing over your inner thighs.
"i know, pretty. i know." his head drops, forehead meeting your own. I see you. I see you."
your palms fly up to encompass the warmth of his cheeks, and a gentle kiss is granted. "i see you."
"come on, baby, come on. cum for me, sweet girl." he hums, the surge of pleasure that is increased twofold with your newly-forged bonding coursing through his bloodstream.
the metaphorical hand that once clamped down around your trachea releasing its stronghold and allowing you to gasp in lungfuls of chilled air as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train.
your shoulders press away from the ground, hips quickly following their lead. however, neteyam is quickly following, refusing to be anywhere but sheathed fully inside you. he sits back on his heels, dragging your hips up and down his pelvis to drag out your climax.
soprano wines are pulled from you, jaw falling slack and eyes rolling back into the back of your head.
"atta girl, atta girl, baby." he's close to his own release, jaw clenching and balls tightening against your perineum.
"feels good." you blubber, cheek falling to find the rough mesh of the mat, chest heaving with post-orgasm jitters.
"i know, sweetheart. feel better, don't you? just wanted t'be full?" he preens, pinching tauntingly at your clit.
your nod is interrupted by an afflicted yelp, the warm walls of your cunt clenching involuntarily around him. "oh for fuck's sake, baby." with a low groan, he explodes, painting your walls with his thick seed.
it's searingly hot, and yet still succor, and a remedy. your body falls limp, and your boyfriend's touch is gingerly as he lays you back down on the ground. he hooks two hands under your pelvis, cock still hard and coated with your mixed release against his pelvic bone.
he draws you upward, forcing you to brace your weight on your shoulder blades. "almost done, angel. just can't let anything go to waste, can we?" he presses two fingers against your weeping hole, pressing them further inside your dripping cunt and forcing his semen to stay put.
your head shakes in response.
"you feeling any better? did that help?" he queries worriedly.
you pull your shoulders up in a shrug. "still hurts, but not as much." you reach forward, cradling his mandible in your open palm. "thank you."
neteyam turns cheek, canines nipping playfully at the muscle of your thumb before sealing the 'injury' with a dainty kiss. "course, baby. here, lay down, okay? i'm gonna finally get an actual taste." he pulls away, shimmying downward to nose at your mound.
"gentle, please." you gasp.
"i don't think so." he chortles, pinning your wishing tail to your thigh. "gonna fucking wreck you."
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cambion-companion · 4 months
Text
A Marriage Contract
Eyo...I had an idea LOL what a world!
The scenario of Raphael x reader (gn) being forced into some sort of marriage agreement has been bugging me ALL day! Hopefully some of you lovely folks are as depraved as I am and enjoy this!
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“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”  
You were sitting opposite Raphael, the firelight flickering orange across his scarlet visage. You watched with bemused interest as, with a black quill, he scratched ink across a sheaf of yellowed parchment.
The cambion took little heed to your agitated words. His posture was relaxed, one long leg stretched out between your own, his tail tapping idly against your thigh where it rested.
“Raphael.”  You leaned forward, catching a glimpse of the words he now wrote in that elegant script of his. “…Hey, I did not agree to doing that every day with you.”
A peeved hiss escaped Raphael’s sharp teeth as he removed quill from paper and sat back, his yellow eyes finally moving to your tense face. “This arrangement is at the behest of one I cannot yet deny.” His long fingers drummed a pattern against the cherrywood table. “Don’t complain too much, pet.  I may begin to think you’re getting cold feet.”
“Not in this sweltering house.”  You quipped back.  Then you pointed again to the sentence he’d scrawled detailing what lurid acts he expected from you. “I will not be doing that.”
“Might I remind you, this is a contract of marriage.”  
“Believe me, I am well aware.”
“You would receive such pleasures in kind.”
This gave you pause, your brow arched in disbelief. “From you?”
Raphael chuckled dryly. “Yes, from me.  Master of the House, your doting husband.”
Your skin prickled. “There’d better be a clause in there for an annulment once all this is over.”
“It’s possible for such a loophole to be penned in.”  Raphael tilted his horned head diplomatically, though his eyes remained hard. “For you to take advantage of should the fires burn too hot.  However, you will always be mine.”
“How romantic.”  You deadpanned.
“I certainly try.”  Raphael rolled his broad shoulders and stretched his neck side to side.  “Now, shall I rescind these latest conditions or are you now more amenable?”
You hesitated, scooting your chair closer so you could better read the script without getting a crick in your neck. “Hmm…yes, alright. You can get rid of the ‘submits to my will in all infernal matters’ bit.”
With a smooth motion Raphael struck a line through the offending words. “Would ‘heeds my counsel in all the doings of my domain’ better suit your tender palate?”
“Rewording the same sentiment isn’t going to get passed me, love.”  You kissed his cheek, teasing.
Sharp claws pierced the flesh of your jaw as, quick as a viper, Raphael grabbed your face with one hand and held you very still.  His face turned and your noses brushed. You felt his warm breath and his hot skin.
The air between the two of you grew tense, riddled with the frustration at your situation and the desire you’d had for one another since meeting. The lust to dominate and own from him and your need to be wanted and no longer alone.
“This marriage contract is forever binding, little mouse. Much more so than those fragile slips of paper from your insipid mortal world. There is not a clause in your wildest imaginings that will free you from me once you sign yourself over.”
You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks, his strong hand still holding your head firmly. “We have little choice.”
Raphael’s grip tightened and he brought his lips against yours, just enough to leave you craving more. “What a quaint notion, to believe I have no power to deny or evade.”
He did not elaborate, but his message was clear.  Raphael wanted this. The thought didn’t leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.
There was an evident dynamic here that you didn’t have the capacity to fully understand.  It gave you a sense of dread yet sent a thrill through your body.
You gave Raphael a smile bordering on playful. “Your signature mysterious and vaguely threatening answers won’t exactly breed a relationship of trust.”
“You and I have very different concepts of what a marriage should look like.”  Raphael released your jaw and took both your hands, pulling you with one strong movement onto his lap.  His tail wrapped around your waist, securing you against him. “Speaking of ‘breeding’, I have an excellent idea.”
Your retort was silenced as a long tongue and sharp teeth claimed your mouth and drank down your following noises.
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caramelcleopatraa · 3 months
Text
"I want to sit on your face" ゚✧*:・゚✧
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another porn with a atom's amount of plot
word count: 1,500~
x: !this is not proofread! 😭 please disregard any mistakes <3 I came up with this idea before my current series "suit & tie", but I never got to finish it.... until now 😏 hopefully you guys enjoy this (not quick) quick thing I whipped up.
content: oral ( f receiving )
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“Baby…”
“Yes?” Roman responds with curiosity in his eyes. You had been daydreaming about a specific situation. It was almost disturbing the flow of your daily life. Your husband was always up for trying new things. You've brought up ideas to him that have led to countless nights of exhilarating love making. You didn't know why you were so nervous to tell him something so simple. Perhaps it comes with your own matter of insecurities that stopped you from telling him your newly proposed idea. “Nevermind, sorry to bother you.” You turned your back to his desk to walk out of the double doors of your home office. Roman noticed your sudden change in energy and decided to chase after you. His hand gently, but firmly, latched onto your wrist and tugged you towards him. Your back hit his sturdy torso and his hands interlaced with yours. “What’s going on? Y’know you can tell me.”
“U-uhm.. Uh…” Your heart was starting to race and your breathing became heavy. You tried to walk away from him, but you must have forgotten who you married. “Nuh uh, stay right here. Tell me what’s on your mind.” 
“Aren’t you in the middle of some work?” 
“Work doesn’t matter when my wife needs me.” He tenderly kisses the side of your neck and his hands rest on your hips. A tactic he used to calm you down when you're nervous. Just as he was about to console you, you spoke up. “Can we try something tonight?” Romans eyes locked with yours and he already knew what you were insinuating. He took your hand and led you upstairs to your bedroom. All of his movements were slow, but sure and tender. All thoughts of work were left downstairs. His focus was on making sure he could make your fantasies come true tonight. He sat on your bed and held both of your hands in his. His thumbs worked over your soft skin as his chocolate eyes looked up at yours. “Alright. What fun things have you thought of to try today, princess?” 
“I don’t know how to say this so that it sounds normal.” You nervously laugh and he joins you in laughter. Still massaging your hands, he says “Well you know i'm not gonna judge you.” “Yeah, I know” You took a deep breath and gathered the courage you needed to say the next sentence that came out of your mouth. “I want to sit on your face. But I don't really know how it’s supposed to work. Like am I supposed to completely sit or ho-” Your body was suddenly caged by Roman’s arms as he pulled you on to the bed. It wasn't long until your lips connected, cutting off your nervous rambling. Your lips danced in an intimate fight for dominance against him, in which you lost. Pulling away from him, you were finally able to get a glimpse of him. His once gentle eyes were low and dark, and laced with lust. He let go of your body, allowing you to rest next to him. He scoots all the way back to the headboard and puts his head on a pillow. He motions you to come over to him and you crawl to meet him.
‘Sit.” He says. You look at him with a surprised look on your face. Again, his hands imitate a “come hither” motion. You slowly straddle his chest and move to hover above his face. His hands dig into your plush thighs as he admires your body from below.
“So umm.. Am I supposed to-”
“Sit on my face”
“Like fully sit?” The tone in your voice shifts to a more confused one.
“Yes mama”
“What if I'm too heavy and you can't breathe?”
“Mama, I wrestle grown ass men for a living. And I'll tap your thigh if I need some air.”
His lips kissed and sucked at the inside of your thighs. “Stop worrying so much. Be a good girl and let daddy eat his pussy.” Soft moans escaped your mouth while he worked his way up your thighs. His thumb creeped up to your aching clit, softly rubbing up and down while continuing to kiss and suck on your thighs. Your head tilted back as you held onto his wrists. You started to grind against his thumb, but Roman grabbed your hips and held them in place. 
“Uh-uh. On my face.” His grip loosened, but his hands landed on your thighs and pushed you down. His arms snaked around your thighs, making it impossible for you to escape if you tried. You didn’t have enough time to process what happened, but a long stripe on your cunt fogged your brain in the best possible way. Once his tongue reached your clit, he planted a tender kiss before sucking and flicking your clit with his tongue. His hands massaged your thighs while he continued to work his magic. He rotated between teasing you with long stripes up your cunt and ruthlessly abusing your clit. 
Roman’s grip on your thighs still restricted much of your movement. You tried your hardest not to grind against his tongue, but the way he was eating you up made it damn near impossible. His hair laid sprawled out on the pillow below him. His right hand let go of your thigh and quickly slapped your ass, startling you and causing you to jump. “Fuck baby,” You moaned, loving the temporary sting on your ass. After a couple more slaps to your ass, his hand returned to its original place, hugging your thigh and holding you in place. His eyes would remain on you and momentarily close while he relished the taste of your pussy, and the loud slurping sounds he was making added on to your arousal. 
You finally succumbed and softly grinded on his tongue. A salacious moan from him vibrated your clit. In return, your moans started to get louder. You tilted your head down and locked eyes with your lover beneath you. You placed your hands on his while you continued to ride his face. You could see droplets of your juices running down his face. He gives you three taps on your thigh and you immediately rise off of his face with concern. He takes a couple of deep breaths while still keeping his hands on you. “I’m so sorry, did you not want me to do that? i’m sorry i got carried away-“
You take a moment to look at Roman. His beard is littered and decorated with your juices and he keeps eye contact with your pussy the entire time he wasn’t devouring you. “Just need a couple of breaths mama. That’s all,” He says, his eyes finally meeting your beautiful ones. The collective heavy breathing occupied the silence for a couple of seconds before you felt those same hands pulling you down to his mouth. “Don’t mean i’m done. C’mere, need to eat that pussy,” He says, before you’re forced to sit on what will be your new favorite seat. Your consistent babbles and whines only made him harder, making him eat your pussy like a starved man. He loves taking care of his baby. Whether that’s pounding you into the mattress or eating you out until you drench the sheets, it was his favorite thing ever. Seeing you lose your mind because of the things he does to you makes him so ecstatic. 
“Got me addicted to this pussy.” He knew that you loved it when he talked you through it. Every chance that he got, he was gonna talk his shit, and it never failed to make you weak. “aah- oohhh shiiiit daddy you finna- ffuuck make me cum.” He moans into your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips were moving nonstop and you couldn’t stop calling his name. You pried his fingers off of your thighs and intertwined his fingers with yours. His arms were still hugging your thighs in place, and yes, you had the headboard to hold if you lost balance. You wanted to hold him instead. “Ohh myy goddd, daddyy. I’m cummin,” You said, slurring your words due to your mind fogging orgasm. Your movements became uneven and Roman’s hold on your thighs tightened to keep you in place. You let out screams of bliss while Roman lapped up your release, while any remainders he missed landed in his beard. Roman’s hands roamed your lower body as low whines escaped your mouth. He pushed up your hips a little to plant loving kisses on your pussy. “How did I do?”
“Fuck, that was amazing,” You said between ragged breaths. Roman’s deep chuckle vibrated through your body, adding to the intimate atmosphere. You attempted to lay next to him but his hands dug into your skin, preventing you from moving.
“I’m still hungry mama.”
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finished this while I was at work :p (so happy that I work at a family business or I would've never finished this today)
🏷️ tags :) @harmshake @jeyusos-girl @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede
~ your hippie author
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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 4 months
Text
Brave Enough
pairing: james potter x fem!reader
genre: kinda angsty
el's thoughts: this is part one! part two will be done soon (hopefully) :)
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The young girl’s screams echoed through the Potter’s back garden as James forced the training broomstick to go faster. The cold spring morning air whipped through their hair and past their faces causing Y/N to bury her head between his shoulder blades. 
“James! You be careful with her!”
“Don’t worry, Mum! She’s just being dramatic as always.”
“I’m alright, Mrs. Potter! I promise!” Y/N called back after smacking the bespectacled boy in front of her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around his waist as they both sat on his brand-new broomstick– gifted to him by his father against his mother’s better judgment. 
“Why can’t you just ride the extra one if you don’t want to go so fast?” He grumbled.
Y/N rolled her eyes, “I don’t know how to ride it, you idiot.”
“Then learn how to,” he pointed out.
“I don’t want to,” she huffed. “Anyway, that’s why I have you.” 
James could feel her smiling brightly behind him as he chuckled. “Fair point I guess.”
The pair had been best friends since birth, given that their parents were all friends when they were at Hogwarts. The children had heard of all their fun stories and constantly looked forward to making memories as bright as their parent’s when they finally got their letters. They had a good few years before they turned eleven and each day felt like an eternity, but they always had their fair share of mischief and fun to pass the time. 
~
Footsteps pounded up the steps of the Potter’s manor. Giggles fell from the eleven-year-old’s smiling lips as she pushed open the heavy wooden door with a bit of a struggle. 
“I got my letter!” Y/N yelled into the house as she kicked off her shoes by the front door and slipped on the extra pair of slippers they kept for her. Euphemia’s laughter could be heard from the kitchen and the young girl quickly followed the sound. She ran into the kitchen and slid to a stop by the counter with a wide smile.
“Happy birthday, Darling!” Euphemia placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek. Fleamont Potter followed by placing a kiss on her head.
“Thank you,” she smiled. “I got my letter!”
“We know,” the youngest Potter laughed. “We could hear you from your house.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, “Well sorry for being excited.”
“No need to be sorry about anything, Y/N/N.” Fleamont chuckled. 
Euphemia served both children slices of cake before she and her husband left them in the kitchen. James was quick to finish his slice and had started pestering Y/N for hers. 
“Shove off, you had your slice.” She grumbled as she slid her plate away from him.
He sighed and laid his head on the counter, waiting for her to finish. “We’re going to Hogwarts.”
Y/N giggled excitedly, “I know! Isn’t it exciting?”
“We’ll be leaving home,” James muttered into his arm that he used as a pillow.
“Yeah…” she sighed. “But at least we’re going together. We’ll have each other!” She smiled brightly at him and moved her plate back in front of her, silently offering to share.
~
“You’ll never guess what happened today!” James nearly bellowed as he strutted through the common room door and made his way to the other marauders sitting on the sofa chairs and couch. 
Y/N rolled her eyes and threw herself down next to Sirius. “Lily looked at him!” She sighed dramatically with a hand across her forehead. “Can you believe it?”
Remus and Sirius snickered while Peter said words of congratulations. James glared at the girl as he sat on the floor next to her legs. “That was my news to share.”
“Too bad,” she teased and stuck her tongue out at him. 
The loud giggles of Y/N’s dormmates sounded from the door interrupted the guy’s conversation. Y/N was quick to jump to her feet, nearly kicking James in the side as she caught up with the girls. “Save me.”
“We heard that!” Sirius hollered back to her. 
“Whatever!”
The girls walked up the staircase and filed into the dorm. 
“Guess what I heard today?” Marlene asked as she tossed her bag to the floor beside her bed and walked to the bathroom. 
Y/N picked up her bag and placed it on the blonde’s trunk. “What did you hear, Marls?”
“McLaggen has a massive crush on you and rumor has it that he’s planning on asking you out soon. My guess is within the next day or so.”
The y/h/c-haired girl choked on her breath. “McLaggen? Quidditch, future ministry worker McLaggen?”
Marlene shouted from the bathroom, “You’ve spent so much time with the boys you’ve gone stupid.”
“Oh, lay off her will you?” Lily spoke up with a chuckle. “It’s not her fault they were her only friends.”
Y/N rolled her eyes so hard she gave herself a small headache. “Shut up the both of you.”
“Right. Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you so you would be prepared.” Marlene strolled out, shaking out her blonde curls. 
“Prepared,” Y/N nodded with a far-off expression. “Wait. This is the first time a guy has shown interest in me!”
The other girls laughed at their oblivious friend. “Oh, girl.”
“That’s far from the truth. But it’s the first time one has been brave enough to do anything about it.”
“Brave enough?” asked Y/N, surprised. “I’m that terrifying?”
“Not you,” Lily sighed. “James.”
“James!?”
~
Hogwarts hallways were always crowded between classes, so it was no surprise to Y/N that she could barely make her way through them to reach her next class. First-years ran between the taller students, and sixth-year students ran just the same. Y/N avoided every nudging shoulder while she flipped through her Defence notes as she walked to her Divination class. 
“Y/N!” A voice shouted over the chatter in the hallway. “Hey, wait up!”
She froze in her steps and looked around to spot the source of the voice. McLaggen waved his hand in the air to grab her attention as he shoved his way towards her. 
“Hi, McLaggen.” Y/N smiled politely.
“Hey, how are you?” His bright smile made her cheeks hurt just watching him.
“I’ve been good-”
He cut her off, nodding. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”
“Oh,” her eyes widened at his forthright question. “Um, I would love-”
“McLaggen!”
The boy’s face drained of all his color so quickly, that Y/N would have found it humorous if she hadn’t recognized the voice behind her.
“Actually, I think I have plans. Sorry! Maybe some other time!” His words were rushed as he quickly turned around and rushed down the opposite end of the corridor.
‘So much for being brave enough to do something about it.’ She spun on her heel within seconds and strutted over to the group of three who parted the sea of students as they walked. 
“You!” She jabbed her finger hard against James’ chest once she reached him. “You obnoxious, annoying, bothersome, appalling, troublesome, dreadful boy.”
“That’s a lot of words,” James muttered to Sirius and Remus who stood beside him.
“Not nearly enough to describe you and how I feel at this very second.” If looks could kill, James would be six feet under where he stood. “Just who do you think you are?”
“Euphemia and Fleamont's son?”
“Your mother would be ashamed of you right now.” Y/N raised her hand to slap his shoulder. “And your father raised you better than this.”
James caught her wrist before she could hit him again. “Woah woah. Hold up, firecracker. What are you talking about?”
She quickly raised her other hand and slapped him anyway. “I’m talking about you scaring off people who have an interest in me!”
The brunette shot a glance of pure horror to Sirius, to which he only responded with a shrug. Remus rolled his eyes and sighed, “You had this one coming, mate. I told you not to do it.”
Y/N turned on the tallest marauders and glared. “You knew he was doing it and did nothing to stop him?” 
“I-”
Sirius quickly cut him off in a weak attempt to save at least one of his friends. “We have class, so sorry, darling. And don’t forget, it’s James who’s been friends with you much longer than we have. Okay, bye now!” He reached for Remus’ hand and pulled him into a sprint away from the furious girl.
“Traitors,” muttered James.
The halls started to clear as classes went back into session. However, Y/N couldn’t bring herself to care about being tardy to her Charms lesson at the moment. Her anger cleared but settled into a tearful heartache.
James panicked at the sight of her teary eyes. “Y/N/N…”
“James, why?” she asked with a sniffle.
“I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.”
“But you can’t protect me from that. I want to go on a date and I want to be sought after like the other girls. I want to ask a guy out to Hogsmeade and not be turned down.”
“But Y/N-” James started but was quickly shut down.
“No James. You have chased after Lily every day for the last four years! How is it fair that you get to chase after my friend while I sit back and watch? The only guy I’ve ever hoped would show interest in me, only to watch him go after one of my best friends. Then I find out that you scare off everyone else.” A few tears had fallen from her eyelashes at this point. “How is that fair, James?”
He stared at her with wide eyes. “The guy you hoped would show interest?”
Y/N’s heart dropped to her stomach. “No… James, don’t do that to me.”
She groaned loudly. “That’s what you pay attention to?”
“Well, the girl I’ve had a crush on for years just admitted she feels the same!”
“Y/N…” 
“You don’t get the right. That’s just mean.” Her voice was so small and she felt so vulnerable. Before James could say another word she cleared her throat. “I’m late for class.” She walked away from him slowly, as if in a daze. She could feel her heart crack in her chest as she walked away. She knew that there were a million better ways she could’ve handled the situation, but now she had to deal with the cards she played. 
This wasn’t the end of the conversation, but she just needed a bit of time. Some time to breathe and straighten out her thoughts. She just needed some time. 
520 notes · View notes
avtrbee · 2 years
Text
love game. i
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summary: he has never been a good husband, but a century in captivity might change his mind
pairing: morpheus x love!reader
tw: dark!morpheus hehe, mention of rape is you squint but i kinda emphasized that its not? toxic relationships (?)
a/n: gif aint mine. idk where this is fic going. this is the literal example of head empty, no thoughts just my love for men groveling at my feet. hopefully you like them too
“Where is my wife?” he asked, glancing at Lucienne. “Had she abandoned me too? Surely she has sensed me by now…”
His librarian gives him an uncertain look. “My lord, my lady will only come if you summon her. It has been that way for centuries.”
He looks up the ceiling of his palace. There were holes where the roof has fallen, letting sunshine through the throne room. On the damp corners, weeds had slipped through the pristine walls that he had built. His palace looks like a broken heart, thrown away and abandoned. He wonders if this is what she felt like. “Then I summon I shall summon her.”
You came a few seconds after he had said the words.
Lucienne is the first thing you see. She is standing up straight with her hands behind her back- the perfect picture of formality except on her face was a smile wider than you have seen her in a century. Lucienne does not cry, professionalism forbids her so, but you know that if she could he would have tears running down her face in joy. Her heart tells you so. Lucienne’s heart tells you more- the love for her master who has some back.
She bows to you, and steps aside. You cannot help the relief in your face as you see your husband. You blink twice waiting for him to fade away just to be sure.  “You’re back,” you whisper in awe, walking towards him quickly. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, my lord, I had to make sure.” Your eyes widen a fraction at your mistake. “Not that I doubted you, husband, I-”
You meet his eyes and you halt. “Are you alright?”
The Dreaming stills. Even in its decaying form its realm remembers its master. Not a single dust threatened to fall, and every speck of dust held its breath. “I was captured.” Dream stares at the ground as he speaks. His voice was a quiet rumble with anger evident in his face. 
Captured? You wanted to ask, along with the thousands of questions that bombarded your head. How in the world did an Endless become prisoner? But you held your tongue. Knowing your husband, his pride is wounded and irritable. He is frustrated to retreat to the Dreaming to lick his wounds, and even humiliated that he came back significantly weaker than when he left.
Instead, you swallow the concern down your throat and settled for the sight of him. He looked the same as he had always been, but something has changed. This you are certain. 
“Welcome back, Dream Lord.” You greet with a smile and a small bow. It was a smart statement. No mention of his time in absence or your misplaced concern, only your relief that he is back in the Dreaming. You turn your heel to leave, when he spoke up.
“You’re leaving already?” 
Your eyes snapped back at him suspiciously. From the corner of your eye you see Lucienne exit the room, but you did not dare to take your eyes off the Dream Lord. He has never complained of your departure before. Some days you think he wishes you left as soon as you arrived. “Yes,” you nod. “I have my duties to attend to. You have called and I have come. I have done your bidding.”
“I-” Something passes in his face, like a shadow of sadness. “That is not what I meant.”
You look at him, confused, but smiled and nodded anyway. “Then how can I serve you, my lord?”
The dream lord looks at you like you had caused him pain. “Love,” he says, and you almost flinch in surprise. He had never said your name so gently before. In fact, you realize that this is the first time you have even heard him say your name. You were only ever ‘wife’, never ‘Love’, you were…nothing. “I…I apologize. I have not been a good husband to you.”
Your mind flies back to the wedding you have blessed before he had summoned you. The groom and the bride looked so happy, so in love. With your blessing you knew their marriage would be a successful one, the kind that would last until the end of their lifetime. If only yours were the same.You quickly shook the thought away from your head. You are not the naive girl you once were.
Instead, you shake your head. For a moment, you wonder if he would forgive you for taking a step towards him, but you decided against it after recalling what had happened last time. “You are not a cruel husband, Dream.”
You have seen first hand what cruelty is. Men and women pray to you constantly to make their spouses love them, if only they would stop hurting them. But your husband had never hurt you. He wouldn’t dare. And you would not let him.
He gives you a rueful smile. “Then what kind of husband am I if my wife can’t even take a step towards me?”
You suck up a breath. So he had noticed that. The king of dreams is not cruel, but he is cold. You had tried once, when you were first married. Arranged marriages rarely bared fruit to love, but there were some exceptions if they tried enough. You had greeted him, every day, sat beside him every morning to break your fast, walked along with him despite his obvious annoyance. For a few years you visited his realm everyday, had greeted his mornings with the sweetest kiss and at the end of your night, opened your legs when he saw fit, letting him take you whenever he wanted. But eventually, you have resorted to only come when he calls you. He never calls because he misses his wife. More often than not, he has a command to give and expected you to obey. 
“I realize now that you did not ask for this marriage, and I had forced you into it.” In a surge of courage, he held out his hand silently asking for yours. For the first time in a long time you saw nervousness in his eyes, anxious to see your response. You knew that you had every right to stand still, and no one would fault you for it. But you slowly gave your hand anyway. 
You were surprised to know that your husband’s hand was warm. Had you expected him to feel cold? When was the last time you had even touched him? When was the last time he had touched you?
Relief was splattered in his face. Dark eyes lock with yours as he ever so slowly raised your palm to his lips. “How callous have I been to subject Love to a loveless marriage?”
“You did not force me to do anything,” you insist, eyes locked at your hand on his, at the spot his lips had kissed. “You didn’t wish for this marriage either.”
“But I did not have to be so unkind.” Slowly, he dropped your hand to your side and took a step back. You did not know how to feel at the loss of his touch. “In my cage, I had plenty of time to ponder on the things I have normally ignored. I had often wondered how cruel my captors were for keeping me inside my cage for so long but haven’t I done the same to you?” 
You gulped.
“Have I not made you feel unwelcome in a realm that is yours as much as it is mine by law? Haven’t I made the Dreaming your cage, Love?” He asked, eyelashes touching his cheek.
“My lord,” you say in alarm as you process his words. “The Dreaming is a haven compared to what you’ve went through. The Dreaming is a haven compared to anything.”
It did not go unnoticed by you both that you did not deny Dream’s first statement. The Dreaming has never felt like home to you for it has given you nothing to be tied down to it. Its wonder had never failed to welcome you every time you visit, but you do not stay too long. Home is warmth, and the Dreaming has always been so cold to you. Home is your own realm, an endless pink sky like a never ending sunset across the horizon. 
“Forgive me,” your husband whispers. And to your horror, you watch in shock as the King of Dreams bend down on one knee followed by the other. This time you touch him, not caring about the consequences. You grip his arms and attempt to pull him back up, but he stubbornly remains rooted on the ground. 
Your head whips to the exit Lucienne left at and to any other possible entrances to his throne room. It is simply unheard of to have an Endless kneel to someone who is lower to them. You have never even heard of an Endless kneeling before. Your mind races at the thousand possibilities of who might witness your husband beg. Oh, what if Desire came in- ?
“There is no one here, they’ve all gone away in my absence” Dream says, his voice steady like he wasn’t down on his knees for you. “Lucienne is in her library absorbed in her work. You’re all I have left. You’re all I’ve always had. Forgive me, Love.”
Flashes of forgotten cooked meals, cold nights, deserted company and a millennium worth of loneliness flashes in your mind. You have always been so neglected. Is this it, then? Were you to throw away everything because he learned humility after a century?
“There is nothing to forgive, my lord.” You say, eager to get this conversation over and to have your husband just stand up.
“Morpheus,” he corrects with a sad smile. Your response echoes in his head and he did not need confirmation to know that it was a lie. How are you still so loyal? “Then forgive me anyway.” He compromises on your behalf, even when kneeling. He knew you would deny your lie if he asked. 
“Alright.” 
Your shoulders sag and sigh in sheer relief when Morpheus finally stands back up. You can him from head to toe just to be certain he is well before reminding yourself that your hands are still gripping his leather sleeves. You release them immediately, but he caught you wrists before you could pull away.
You flinch, and his eyes soften in regret. I am not scared, you want to say, I’m just not used to you touching me. 
“Have I made you fear me so?” His grip on your wrists in gentle. If you wanted to pull away he would let you. But you let him hold your wrists at the thought that this might be the last time in a long time you will feel him. Might as well relish in it. “I will do better,” he vows. “I will be kinder, more gentle. I will do right by you this time.”
You tug your wrists away from his grasp slowly. “I must return to the waking world, my lord. My duties await me.”
Lie. You hear no prayers, no human calling for your help.
You’ve seen this trick before. You’ve seen mortal men promise the same sweet things to their wives only for them to hurt them once again. A few pretty words is not enough to erase a millennium of memories. 
You turn your heel and walk out of his throne room. Morpheus lets you. 
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next- love game. ii
7K notes · View notes
fan-goddess · 19 days
Note
hello!could you write a reaction to the dragon's house × !fem!reader, when she was flying over the sea with the dragon and one of the enemies was on the ship and shot from a crossbow.
(she and her dragon are alive but slightly injured)
Aegon,Aemond,Jacaerys Velaryon-romantic love
Alicent,Daemon,Rhaenyra,Helaena,Laenor Valeryon-platonic love
sorry if there are any mistakes! I hope everything is clear💝I've actually been thinking about this for a long time💥
HOTD characters reactions of when reader is hurt
The summary: The characters each find out during your usual flight around kingslanding that you were shot down by some people belonging to a certain group that hate the Targaryen traditions and believe it to be an abomination.
A/N: They’re all personalised and hopefully different backstories, but have given reader the same dragon in all of them as making dragons are hard. The wound is also pretty much same, but the severity is altered in some places. In the platonic ones I made reader call them mother or father, since I made them a parent. Some of these are very different as I expanded on some more and developed others. You can tell which.
This ain’t fully proofread we die like Luke!
Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie
Warning: Wounds, various gore mentions, incest, kissing, tried to make it gender neutral and lack of descriptions but there are some scattered about! (if I miss any let me know)
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Aegon Targaryen:
When Aegon heard the news from his mother who’d rushed to inform him of your sudden injury, he all but sprinted to the infirmary where you were being treated by one of the leading maesters.
“My love, are you alright?!? I am so sorry my love I should have insisted to accompany you! When I find the man who did this to you I shall rip off his head and feed his insides to Sunfyre and Shrykos!” He declares, the words tumbling quickly with how much rage flooded his body at the sight of your wounded self. You could barely keep up with him if you were being honest.
“Aegon, my sweet husband, it is fine! ‘Tis merely a flesh wound!” You insist, yet wincing as soon as the reassurance falls from your lips.
“And yet here you are heavily bleeding, and in very much pain! You should take some milk of the poppy!” Aegon says, looking around to find the bottle, even when you try and insist you were fine. “If you were fine you’d be with me, in our bed, safe and unharmed! So don’t argue with me wife or my wrath will be misguided!”
You merely humour him by sipping slightly at the small contents of the cup the maester had passed to you. Yet still, you can’t deny that the liquid had its desired effects, as your previously aching wound now significantly dulls down to a mere small throb once in a while.
“Now wife. Tell me who hurt you.” Aegon demands, his eyebrows furrowed and his grip tightened on your body as he insured you would be unable to get away from him.
“Just some idiotic men thinking themselves higher than us my love. They shot at me and Shrykos from their ship when we least expected it with bloody crossbones of all things, and somehow barely managed to skim us. Yet they somehow did not expect the very large dragon to get angry that their rider and themself was just attacked with no prior warning. Shrykos certainly made sure to enact on our lovely families motto. By the time she was done with them, there was nothing left but fire and blood sinking to the bottom of the sea.”
Aegons face slowly turns more and more relaxed, and by the end of your tale he’s practically grinning for joy as he kisses you deep on the lips. “That’s my bloodthirsty wife!” He mumbles against your lips, forgetting all about his past aggressions to make you feel as safe and as loved as you could be in his arms. The maester that continues to awkwardly stand their waiting to finish wrapping your arm be damned.
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Aemond Targaryen:
He finds out before anyone else, as he tends to wait for you after your dragon rides if he’s unable to go with you that day. So when you come back later than usual with blood dripping down your arm and half an arrow sticking out of you, he certainly is very angry, and very much willing to get on Vhagar and hunt down and kill those who dared harm his wife. Yet he knows he must stay calm for you.
He notices how you try and mumble your dragons name under your breath, so when he makes it past one of the dragon keepers he makes sure to let them know that Shrykos may be in need of some healing. He assumes by the way your mumbles quieten after he says the order that that was what you were trying to tell him. Yet when he actually looks at you Aemond quickly realises you’ve actually fainted from blood loss.
Aemond rushes you to the Maesters room where he insists only the best work on you, even though he couldn’t afford to be picky what with you bleeding out in his arms and all. Though after a few threats and lot of claims regarding his dragon, the maesters quickly manage to remove the arrow and stem the bleeding whilst you continued to lay unconscious on the healing bed. Aemond stayed by your side the entire time, holding your hand tightly in an act of reassurance. Even though you were still unconscious.
He stayed with you the entire time though. Still holding your hand even when he fell asleep. When you eventually woke, three days after you were injured, Aemond was sure to reassure you that you were safe. Even though by the tenth time you were very ready to smack him.
“Tell me ābrazȳrys who did this too you. Vhagar has been ready for the taste of flesh since I found you. I am sure Shrykos too is ready for the thrill of the chase of those who harmed both her and her rider. Tell me, so I can make sure we can tear them limb from limb.” His words drip malice, and yet there is distinct comfort within them. Aemond has never truly been able to show his affection towards you with displays of anything other than action. And in this moment, it just so happens that action involves heavy bloodshed and possible carnage.
“Those men who hale from the vale. The ones claiming our traditions to be an abomination. A sin in the eyes of the seven. They surprised me and Shrykos as we flew above the seas and got some good strikes. But don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon. Me and Shrykos made sure to burn them to blood and ash before we needed to flee back to kingslanding.” You attempt to smile to reassure your husband, but if anything it appears to make it worse as you wince at the pain suddenly flaring through your whole right arm.
Aemond stays quiet as he makes sure to force you to drink some milk of the poppy.
“Ābrazȳrys. If you were to die, I would have gone to the brink of insanity. I would’ve gone to those peoples homes and burned them all to the ground for what they have done to my wife. To the future mother of my children. They have harmed you though. The have scarred you. And for that offence alone, I cannot allow them a single more moments of breath. I cannot allow them to live.” Aemond storms off leaving you laying there in half shock and half admiration. You knew he would be true to his word. Which is why when not even a day had passed since Aemond had left, you’d heard whispers of what Aemond had done, and you smiled and thanked the gods for a husband like yours.
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Jacaerys Velaryon:
If there was one characteristic you could say your husband embodied to the fullest, it would be loyalty. As no matter how many other women, maids and nobility alike, threw themselves at the future heirs feet he always ran back to you.
Even when other men such as the Lannister’s attempted to charm you with their admittedly horrible, yet according to them successful attempts, Jace was always there with a watchful eye, making sure all knew who you belonged too.
He was protective too. A dragon while not in appearance but definitely in spirit. Jace would always find a way to make sure you were safest whether you wanted him to be involved or not. Even this noon when you wanted to get one last dragon ride before dinner, Jace still insisted there was no need. Yet your stubbornness knew no bounds it seems, as while his back was turned you made quick speed to where Shrykos usually slept and flew her into the great distance. A mere speck in the sky before Jace knew what had happened.
You had started the flight laughing with the biggest grin on your face, eager to see the sights from the sky. Yet of course things turned worse as men from one of the many religious groups of the seven kingdoms took notice of you and your dragon, and decided to shoot you with their admittedly massive weapons.
You dodged the best you could, and yet with a scream from both you and Shrykos, you realised you were both hit.
“DRACARYS SHRYKOS! DRACARYS!” You screamed, satisfied when you hear the hells and the screams of the men and the ships bellow. With your good arm, you steer Shrykos to the direction of dragonstone and order the instructions, before all appears to go dark.
When you wake, all seems strangely normal. That is of course, before you see the giant bandaged wound that is your arm. You can see a hint of red peeking from the bandages and are about to see if you could rewrap it, before Jacaerys comes through and with wide eyes realises you are awake and well as you can be.
“My love!” He shouts, running over and encasing you in his arms. Not hearing the low hiss you make when his hands clasp around your still admittedly sore arm. “Where have you been!? You’re hurt!” He yells, finally taking noticing your blood that steadily pools to the surface. “Let us get you to the maesters!”
As much as it hurt you to have Jace pull you like he did, you merely let it all happen so not to cause an event bigger fuss of you than what he already is making. Yet when you get to the maesters chambers and nearly find yourself fainting, that’s when you suddenly understand your husbands worry.
When you wake up though, it’s the feeling of Jaces familiar warmth that settles you as you gaze on his sleeping form. Yet as you wake, so does he it seems. As not even a few minutes after you’ve woken Jace is quick to rise with you. His eyes wide and worried as they roam you for anymore possible injuries you may possibly somehow have hidden.
“Are you alright my love?!” He asks, his eyes still roaming for even a moment of weakness from you. “There maesters took care of your arm and the arrow. And I heard word from the dragon keepers who tell me Shrykos is healing dutifully from his wounds!”
“Good.” You simply say, hissing slightly as you sit up and try to keep yourself grounded. “I’d kill then if she wasn’t.”
Jacaerys laughs at your threat, and his face looks almost serene as he just looks at you. His eyes going soft as his hands continue to hold yours. It’d be an almost affectionate moment had it not been for the sudden flare up of pain in your arm.
“Fuck!” You yell, hissing once again as you’re reminded of why you’re even in the maesters room in the first place. “It is alright husband I’m fine!” You insist seeing the worry now marking his face.
“I will worry when I want.” He simply says, kissing you on the top of your head before moving to sit next to you on the bed. His head resting on yours as he puts his arms around you. Your eyes shutting as a sudden hit of exhaustion hits you, yet you welcome it fully as Jaces arms feel just so welcoming and calming.
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Alicent Hightower:
Alicent had always been like a mother to you. Caring for you when you were sick and making sure that you were always in your highest possible health. It was probably why she’d insisted since you were young to fully call her mother, even though you were not biologically related to her.
Whenever she heard about even the slightest of injuries though, she always worried relentlessly about the damage. Which is why when you appeared before her clutching a bleeding wound from your shoulder, you’re quite honestly surprised she hadn’t dropped from shock.
“Oh my darling what has happened?!” She’d gasped, frozen in shock as she stood there not knowing what really to do.
“Bastards on their boats took a few shots at me and Shrykos whilst we were on our morn flight. They got two good shots at us to hurt us but don’t worry. Before we got here Shrykos managed to give them what was coming for them…” You groan, holding your shoulder in your hand that has now from the lack of adrenaline, has begun aching dramatically.
“Oh never mind the men I care only about you!” She fusses, coming closer before stopping half way, staring between your shoulder and your pained face. Maybe Alicent will drop from shock after all.
“SOMEBODY GET THE MAESTERS!” You hear a voice yell, before all appears to go dark before your eyes. When you wake though, it is as if the light is blinding you. You blink a few times to ground yourself, and it’s with a sudden surprise you realise that you feel a familiar warmth on your hand. You turn your head slightly, stiff from the lack of movement you think, and realise Alicent is staring at you with great worry on her face.
“Are you feeling alright my darling? The maesters have cleaned and sewed up your wound, but according to them it shall take a while for it to fully heal. You must tell me dear girl, in detail, what happened out there. What did those people do to you?”
“After me and Shrykos took off, we flew to the stormlands. We were drifting round shipbreaker bay, when those men the council warned us over took notice. Crossbows the size of my arm began shooting at us mother, so I am grateful they managed to get me and Shrykos only once.” At the mention of your dragon, your face turns to worry. Yet before you say anything, your mother quickly moves to interrupt you.
“Your dragon is safe my love. The dragon keepers have been keeping me up to date on her healing, and she is steadily heading to full recovery. The arrow has been removed fully, and the wound has stopped bleeding.” She says, her face betraying her as she is unable to hide her distaste of your dragon.
“Thank you mother, I appreciate the consideration. I know you have no love for Shrykos, nor any of your children’s dragons.” You say, your honesty true as you smile in thanks and understanding.
“You’re welcome my heart…” Your mother smiles, her hand reaching out to hold yours. Which while you admittedly want to shy away from, yet you push through your discomfort to allow your mother this moment that you know your adoptive sister would not have allowed.
“I do not want you to fly unaccompanied anymore my heart,” Alicent begins, shushing your with a single movement when she sees you about to harshly protest. “I have discussed this with your brothers and sister, and they have all agreed. Aemond has already taken the duty on his ever eager shoulders, and has said he will ride with you tomorrow morn at your usual time. It may be in your best interest to thank him next time you see him.”
“Of course mother…” You sigh, already dreading Aemonds smug face and wanting to punch it. Yet you withhold yourself from groaning out loud only from your mother’s sake, who is still holding your hand with intended comfort, even though she is doing nothing but make your blood pump fast around your body. Still, you say nothing. Allowing her to believe she is comforting you with a motherly smile on her face.
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Daemon Targaryen:
Daemon had always possessed an amusingly short temper. It was especially tested though whenever it regarded to you. Whenever you got yourself hurt as a child, whether than was to do with training or just an accident in the halls, he always demanded to know the man behind your pain. It’s why you weren’t at all surprised when he reacted that same way when you flew back to Dragonstone and stumbled towards him with an arrow stuck in your shoulder blade.
“Who has dared to harm you zaldritzos? Tell me so I can show them what the exact consequence is for messing with a dragon. I am sure caraxes is already fuelled with my anger alone and is ready to face those who dares spill such precious blood.” Daemon snarls, his face unable to hide its anger as he holds your body steady so it won’t suddenly collapse.
“Bastards from the bloody ships on the bloody sea. Got us good… got us good…” You slur, every word feeling forced from your very gut as your eyes grow heavier and heavier.
“Don’t you dare close those eyes zaldritzos! Don’t you fucking close them!” You hear him snarl once more. But still, you cannot resist the temptation of sleep as you disobey your father and close your eyes.
When you find yourself waking, it is Daemon is standing by you while you slept. His eyes hard and stern as they observe you.
“I suppose you’re mad?” You can’t help but say. Your face admittedly ashamed as you stare to the floor, unable to hold his stare.
“Of course I am mad!” He yelled, refusing to allow you to turn your head away as he forces you to make eye contact with him. “My daughter has gone out without telling me, and she has gotten herself hurt the same way soldiers are hurt in wars!”
“I am sorry father!” You say, tears brimming in your eyes as the disappointed and anger shines through his. “I cannot control where those bastard men sail-“
“But you can control where you fly!” Daemon yells back. His voice rough and frustrated as the inner dragon inside him comes out. “I have taught you better than this zaldritzos! I have been teaching you how to ride that dragon of yours since you were a mere child! So why was it you were no doubt flailing about the sky like an amateur, when I know you could have done better?!”
“I’M NOT LIKE YOU!” You shout, shoving your father away as he stares at you with an expressionless face. “I am not a great leader, or a great dragon rider! I am still learning father! My lessons have not yet stopped being taught! Those men on the ships who shot at us were the ones you had warned us about. The ones claiming our great traditions to be an abomination and deserving of punishment. Me and Shrykos did not know their affiliation as we flew above them. Only when the arrows began to fly for our heads did we realise… I got an arrow in the shoulder, which has now since been removed. Shrykos though listened perfectly and managed to get out of there without any particularly damaging wounds. Still, my anger shon through her, and we managed to light the whole of the fleet up in flames before we flew back home. Where of course, you found me…”
Daemon is silent throughout your rant, yet by the end, when you’re breathless with how quickly you spoke, his hand is placed on your non-injured arm in an unfamiliarly comforting manner.
“I know you are not like me zaldritzos. While I have made you in my image, I hardly expected it to be your only outcome. You have become strong. You have become a fearsome warrior able to bring honour to our family name and our ancestors. I suppose… I may have forgotten that I too have made mistakes. I am sorry zaldritzos…”
The tears that had brimmed earlier in your eyes now tear down your face now that you hear your fathers words. His pride. So you do the only thing you can think of at that moment to show your appreciation. You take your arms and place them around Daemons waist, pulling him into a hug where your head is against his chest. Thankfully his arms seem to automatically go around your own body, and you can’t help but find this act comforting and safe.
“Thank you…” You can’t help but murmur.
“I would never let anything hurt you…” He murmurs back. Words which to anyone else may sound meaningless, but to you, you know they hide your father’s true feeling of care.
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Rhaenyra Targaryen:
Rhaenyra had always been a sort of mother to you. A light to guide you in the darkest of your days. Whenever you took ill or had an injury, it was always she who stood by your bed, holding your hand in her own. Even though both husbands and loyal guards warned her of her possibly falling ill herself. Not that she ever did somehow though.
It was like that now. That afternoon, you had decided on a whim to take Shrykos on a fight around the coasts bordering the land surrounding Dragonstone. Yet it seems you coincidentally forgot Daemons talk about the rising threat of a religious group following faithfully the followings of the seven, as you tried to fly past them calmly and peacefully. Shrieking in fear when you realise it was not a harmless fly that flew past your face just now, but a very deadly steel-tipped arrow.
You barely made it out of there alive. The only injuries you yourself sustaining being a few arrow nicks on your shoulders, and the worse of it being a shallow puncture from one of the few successful shots. Shrykos though took most of the hits. Her rage seething the more those pathetic men tried to harm both her and her rider. It was quite satisfying you must say, when you flew away with the fresh smell of burning corpses still behind you, lingering on your clothes.
Yet when you got back home and were standing in front of your mother, that satisfaction quickly changed to a strange sort of guilt when you see her horror struck face.
“What has happened my darling!” She tells, taking ahold of your arm to look at your injury while you yell at her to try and say you were fine, even though you wince as soon as she yanks you towards her.
“Bloody men on the coast of Gull Town decided to shoot at us from their fucking boats. They got only a few good shots before Shrykos managed to get to them. By the time we left, we ensured they became fire and ash. I doubt there are any men alive after that….” You say, barely able to stand as the sudden blood loss reaches you.
You’re barely able to think as your mother brings you to the castle hanging on her shoulder. Soon, maesters surround you whilst your mother fusses by your bed to the left of you. She insists and demands certain things, but by the end, your grateful to feel the pain in your arm significantly lessen not only due to the lack of wooden arrow, but also due to the large amount of milk of the poppy that was pretty much forced down your throat.
“Is it all better now my darling?” Your mother asks, putting your hand between her own to soothe you as if you were a small child who’d scuffed their leg falling on some loose gravel.
“It is fine mother!” You insist. Even smiling as you play the part of the healthy child, able to bounce back from any injuries. Yet somehow she can still manage to see through your facade.
“Are you sure?” She asks again. Her brow raised in questioning as she makes you feel like a young child again. Small, and helpless as you cry to mother.
“Yes I am fine!” You firmly say, taking your hand from hers and placing it on the cold clinical bed sheets. Already missing the familial warmth your mother’s hands had provided you with. “I do not need you pressing!”
“Okay my love. I believe you.” Rhaenyra smiles, acknowledging her child’s want for independence. Moving from the chair she previously had sat on so she can place a quick kiss to the top of your head and smile fondly at the way your nose scrunches. “I will leave you now my love. The maesters had said you’ll fully heal by the moons next turn, but you’re fit to leave the bed tomorrow morn. I’ll visit you then.”
As quick as Rhaenyra leaves, you find yourself already wanting her motherly touch to tell you it’s okay. Your legs tucking under your chin as you hold yourself under the covers, letting your eyes shut so hopefully you’re able to wake up tomorrow by your mother’s voice.
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Helaena Targaryen:
Compared to all your other family members, it has always been Helaena you were closest too. A close bond forging between the two of you since girlhood that not once has ever been broken.
You were with her when she claimed Dreamfyre, just as she was there for you when you claimed Shrykos. You also made sure to try and be with her whenever she experienced one of her, moments.
Yet that morning, you were way too busy trying to get ready for your usual morn flight to be with her when she took what the queen would call, a funny turn.
‘Blood of the dragon lost twice over. Beware the boats from bellow filled with men of hate.’
She’d seen your injury and the fire coming from your dragons mouth, and being the anxious person she was, she waited at the dragon keeps entrance with her hands fiddling with each other.
When you fly in holding your arm to try and stem the blood, getting off with difficultly as you try and not fall, you almost scare yourself when you turn and suddenly find yourself face to face with Helaena, who holds a bandage ready to treat you with it.
“Give me your arm…” She softly asks, waiting for you to release your arm from your grip so she can slowly and carefully take the arrow from your arm, choosing to ignore your vocal cries of pain so she can make sure to get the arrow out. When she does, she chooses to just drop the bloody wooden chunk to the floor so she can quickly wrap your now gushing wound, which she cleans with a slightly damp clothe that can’t have been out of the water bowl for long.
“What happened?” She asked while she cleaned your red streaked arm.
“Do you remember those men Aemond warned us about? The ones who hate us for our heritage?” You ask, waiting to hear Helaena unique hum to show she’s truly listening. “Well when I was flying by Tarth, those men were in there boats and obviously spotted me before I spotted them. So they shot at me till they hit me.” You shrug, regretting it soon as you did as you hiss at the sudden flare up of pain.
“It’ll hurt badly. I didn’t manage to take any milk of the poppy from the maesters, so we’ll probably need to visit them soon.” Helaena simply says, giving you a smile before she takes your hand in her own. An act you cannot say in words how much it means to you, given how you know of her usual revulsion for physical touch.
So you stay silent. Allowing her to lead you to the maesters with a small smile on your face, that is wiped right off when you become face to face with them. They stare at your with judgement and soulless eyes as they remove you from Helaenas comforting warmth and instead force you to feel cold metal against your flesh. They ignore you as they unwrap the bandages. Only giving each other looks as they wordlessly judge the state of your body.
It almost makes you want to tear their heads from their bodies and feed them to Shrykos. Who no doubt is feeling your frustrations and anger down in the dragon pit.
Yet you hold your tongue for Helaenas sake, who is watching the maesters take supposed special care of you from the corner of the room. She gives you small smiles whenever you make eye contact, and it’s only with them you manage to pull through. The milk of the puppy though they force down your throat certainly makes you more cooperative though you must say.
“Thank you Hel, for looking after me.” You say, staring at her as soon as the maesters deemed you healed enough and left you. No doing to go get the queen to inform her of your sudden injury.
“It is no problem…” She softly smiles back, moving forward to stand next to you so she can hold your hand in her own. Her soft flesh relaxing you possibly even more than the drugs flowing through your system. “I will always be there for you…”
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Laenor Valeryon:
Even though you always knew that Laenor could never truly be your father, he nonetheless always managed to act like one better than anyone. While your mother was busy attending to your brothers, it was Laenor who was always busy attending to you, making sure you were fussed in a way a princess should be fussed.
He always made sure to give you the bestest care a princess may need it. Like right now for instance.
“I NEED A MAESTER RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” You remember your father screaming while your vision slowly began to blur in a variety of difference places. “Where are you hurt ñuha nūmio? Where is the pain? What can I do?”
“Arrow in the fucking shoulder.” You groan, bile building in your throat as you resist the urge to vomit. “Only there father. Shrykos was hit too. Fuck it hurts so much…”
“Do not worry dear girl! The maester will come!” As he says this, guards come running with a maester in tow. The guards take ahold of you carefully as you nearly collapse under the sudden blood rush. The maester barking orders for what to do to you to cause the least amount of damage to your body as possible.
When you get to the healing room, you’re placed roughly onto a bed where now a whole group of maesters now flock to you like a group of crows over a fresh carcass. They all say a different method on how to treat you, yet it’s Laenor whose voice shines louder than them all.
“You will not cut up or harm my daughter!” He yells, his voice firm and harsh as he glares at them all. “You will take out that fucking arrow, and you will heal her. Or I swear, as the heir of the realms husband, I’ll make all of you fucking regret it!”
All is silent, and yet with a firm glare they all scatter to complete your father’s order. Soon, cloth is finding its way in your mouth to quench your screams as hands force the arrow once imbedded in your arm is forced onto a silver plate. Blood gushing down your arm in an admittedly disturbing manner.
By the end, there is an elder looking maester stitching up your blood coated arm, and an arrow head and some wood pieces. Laenor held your hand with every scream and every clench of your body. He made sure you felt as safe as you could in the presence of the same type of men who killed your aunt. He also made sure to quickly push them out as soon as they were done with there work. Nodding along in a dismissive manner as they insist they are still needed.
When they are eventually shushed away however, with the door shut quickly behind them, Laenor quickly finds himself by your side again. His hand laced firmly in yours as he takes a lone damp cloth so he can clean away the dried blood still decorating your wounded flesh.
“Does it hurt much? I can always call a maid to fetch you some milk of the poppy?” Laenor insisted, his touch delicate as he makes sure not to harm you in any way.
“It merely stings…” You shrug, wincing though soon as you do due to the sudden flare up in your shoulder. “I do not need any milk of the poppy father. I can manage my pain.”
“I can see that…” He grins, even chuckling when he sees your own smile. “Though, I must ask. What happened? You did not exactly give me much information before the maesters came for us.”
“Me and Shrykos began our normal journey to the direction of Runestone. But on the coast of Gull town, it appears those men mother had recently warned us about, the ones who deem our customs immoral and a disgrace to a seven, spotted us before we spotted them. They took no time before they were shooting at us with giant crossbows on their ship. They took us by surprise, and managed to get only a single time, but that was enough to enact Shrykos’ rage. I didn’t even say the command father! Shrykos enacted our joined rage and set fire to their ships and their bodies. If they weren’t dead by the time we left, I am almost sure they are all at least dead by now.”
He takes in your words carefully. Murmuring small words every so often while he holds your hand as a sigh of sympathy. When your done though, his face is smeared in deep anger. A hatred you have never seen your father show ever before in your lifetime.
“Well it’s a good think they are dead though,” He finally says, snapping from his thoughts with a huff. “Because if they were alive, Seasmoke would be gorging on a feast right now!”
“Thank you father…” You simply say, falling into his arms that welcome you immediately. You close your eyes and allow yourself to bask in his familiar comforting warmth.
261 notes · View notes
run2gyuz · 3 months
Note
could you please do jake dark fantasies for his wife? <3
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and another one thank you
husband!Jake x Wife!Reader
𝘼/𝙉: SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG I HAD 0 IDEAS TT
𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: Anal (thoughts), exhibitionism (thoughts), asking permission to cum (thoughts), bondage (thoughts - Jake is wild), cumming inside unprotected (wrap it before you tap it!!), possessiveness a little but not really
𝙬𝙘: 367
Jay ver. | Sunghoon ver.
MINORS DNI
I feel like Jake is a bit different to the other two (Jay and Sunghoon), in the fact he'd only get such thoughts when you were provoking them. For example, you were really needy and Jake had just been in and out of the house all day, going to different meetings and such, while his pretty little wife was left alone with her own wild thoughts all day. After the boys third time home, just to stop in for some lunch, you decided to get what you wanted.... him.
"Babyyy," You wined, sitting next to him. He looked towards you, mouth full of food, muffling out a, "You alright' honey?". You didn't verbally respond to the questioning boy, only leaning your head back slightly, whining quietly and moving closer. The confused boy lay his sandwich onto his plate and took your hands into his own, now facing towards you. "Are you sure you're okay, if you want something just tell me alright?". You leaned forward, resting your head on his shoulder before groaning into his ear, "Just want you baby,".
As Jake rammed into your tight cunt, all he could think about was what it'd feel like fucking your ass, he'd always wanted to but had never asked. "Jakey faster," You'd whine, pushing yourself back into him. He'd let his head tip back, thoughts of him fucking you in the corner of a club filling his mind, shushing you as not to let anyone see what was him. Your moans filled his ears, as you lusciously cried out, "Oh my god, I'm gonna cum,". Jake's hips slammed harder into your cunt, imagining you all tied up on your bed, begging him to let you release, slipping out a, "Please let me cum I'll do anything, just wanna cum for you,". That was the cherry on top for him as he released spurts of hot cum into your warm pussy; and even though you didn't say it, the thought of your voice had defiantly sent him over the edge. He'd ask you about them eventually, hopefully trying a few of his thoughts in practice, but for now, they stayed in him mind where no one could find them.
𝘼/𝙉: pls like + reblog and asks are open!
239 notes · View notes
works-of-fanfiction · 7 months
Text
The Love of Another - Part Two || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader
< Previous
Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.
Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst. Some (pretty cringe) fluff at the end.
Word Count: 5.7k
 a/n: thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the first part of this! I haven’t written anything multi-part in literal years, but this was fun. some chunky sections of dialogue here, hopefully easy to follow! enjoy x 
(Paul is Paul Anderson and Sophie is Sophie Rundle (if that wasn’t obvious already). Y/N’s character in the show is not canon/replacing any of the actresses, just feel free to use your imagination and slot her in somewhere! it is yourself after all.)
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“Would you rather have Tommy teach you to ride a horse, or Arthur teach you to box?” The interviewer asked, smiling at the actress in front of her. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, tapping her knee as she thought about her answer. “That’s a hard one, because both could end up with me on the floor!” She joked, looking past the camera at the crew who were essentially getting paid to laugh at anything she said. “I have to go with Tommy on this one. It’s probably the least dangerous! Plus, who doesn’t love watching Cillian ride those horses?” The two women laughed together before swiftly moving onto the more serious questions about Y/N’s debut in the series. “I’d have gone with Arthur.” Y/N’s husband sneered, lowering the volume on the TV. Behind him she was sat at the table, re-reading the new scripts she’d been sent and familiarising herself with the lines.
“They pay me to say stuff like that, you know.” She declared casually, not bothering to look up from the page. He turned around and watched as she scribbled down some notes, mouthing words to herself quietly.
“They pay you to brown-nose Cillian?” He scoffed, leaning on the back cushion. Dropping her pencil with a sigh, she finally looked up with raised brows.
“Yes. Just like I got paid to brown-nose every other man I’ve worked with.” She quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and twirling the pencil between her fingers. She waited for him to respond, but the snarky comeback never came. A smart choice on his part.
Despite her only having met Cillian once, her husband still had this bizarre idea that they’d spent every waking moment together during filming. Y/N had become too exhausted to argue about it. Her career and her future in Peaky Blinders was a lot more important than her husband’s petty jealousy, and she certainly wasn’t going to throw away the role of a lifetime because of him.
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“Y/N… Your line.” The prompter called, waving the script in the air and tapping the page with her pen.
“Oh, sorry. Can we go from the top?” Y/N asked nervously, looking around at the crew that were becoming increasingly impatient. What was supposed to be a quick and simple scene was turning into an hour of do-overs with Y/N forgetting small details on every take. “I’m really sorry everyone.” She addressed the room, some mumbling back, others just rolling their eyes and whispering among themselves.
Stepping forward off his mark, Cillian turned to the director. “I think we can pick this up next week. Don’t you?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting to Y/N and back again. “Long day…”
“Alright. We’ll set up for this scene first thing Monday morning, but I want it finished and perfect by lunchtime.” He spun in his chair, ordering everyone to go home and rest up on their rare weekend off.
Sighing, Y/N tugged at her hair, freeing it from the clips holding it tightly in place. Paul patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving set, shaking Cillian’s hand on the way out. Cillian sat down beside her quietly, waiting for everyone else to filter out. Once the room was empty, he scooted closer, slipping his hand in hers beneath the table. “I had it, Cill, I had it.”
“I know.” He soothed, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I did it for my sake, not yours. This suit is itching.” He joked lightly, pulling at his collar. Looking up, she felt a smile creeping onto her face. There he was, being cheesy, always trying to cheer her up.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“I think the guest in your trailer might have something to do with it.”
Nodding, she looked down at their hands, at Cillian’s gentle fingers dancing along her veins. She thought about her husband; how he’d travelled all this way and spent the entire afternoon waiting for her. Yet here she was, comfortable in the arms of another man, betraying him for the thousandth time.
Cillian could see the cogs turning in her head. Forgetting to blink, she stared down at the tabletop, studying the cracks in the brown paint. He squeezed her hand softly, reminding her he was still there. “What are you thinking?” He whispered.
“I have to tell him, don’t I?” She asked, not really seeking an answer. For months she’d tried to plan a way to tell him, to come out with the truth and end her marriage for good, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t something she could do over the phone, but she also couldn’t bear to see him in person. She continued to pretend everything was OK, smiling through their FaceTime calls and sending love hearts whenever she couldn’t answer. ‘Couldn’t’ meaning when she was with Cillian.
“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, or when, or where, but I know I have to. I mean, it’s been a year already, and I think I just lost track of time but then  – “
“Hey, hey.” Cillian grabbed her face gently, putting a pause to her rambling. “You don’t need to go making any grand declarations today.”
“If I leave it any longer, it’ll just make it worse.”
Y/N seemed to stare straight through him, her jaw tensing beneath his fingers. Part of him wished he could fix it for her, that he could go to her husband himself and tell him the truth to save her the burden. He feared how her husband could react, knowing he had a habit of getting jealous and suspicious whenever she got too friendly with a man. He knew he could handle it but wasn’t sure she’d be able to.
“Y/N!” A voice shouted from the entrance; it was Sophie, looking for her so she could drag her to her birthday night out. The pair separated, Cillian standing awkwardly. “There you are. Come with me, I’ve found the perfect dress for you to wear tonight!”
“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He smiled, giving Y/N one last reassuring smile before leaving the building. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was go out, but she didn’t want the crew hating her even more after her earlier fiasco, so she dragged herself to the wardrobe department and let Sophie show her the dresses they were going to ‘borrow’ for the evening.
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“A vision in red! Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Paul beamed, hugging Y/N tight as she joined the group, her husband in tow. Paul made the effort to greet him - the man lucky enough to steal Y/N’s heart - as he put it. She laughed along, the pang of guilt inside her chest doubling in size. He may’ve had occupancy of her heart once upon a time, but that space had since been filled by someone else, and that someone was currently sat in the corner looking as handsome as ever. Cillian raised his glass to her, smiling, his arm flexing in his t-shirt. She nodded back, the all-too-familiar rush of heat spreading up her neck and to her face.
It was the perfect night for it, considering the football match just a few miles down the road was keeping most of the city occupied for a couple of hours. Everyone chose to pack out the pubs, leaving the majority of the bars fairly empty and ideal for the star-studded crowd to hide out and enjoy their night. It wasn’t often they all stepped out together like this, but birthdays were an exception. 
“Drink?” Y/N’s husband asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder. Leading her to the bar, he gushed about his conversation with the Arthur Shelby, and how much of a nice guy he was. She wondered if he’d speak so highly of Cillian, or if his strange vendetta would get the better of him. “Shots for the birthday girl?”
“Oh, not yet. Let me ease myself in.” She laughed weakly, drumming her fingers on the bar.
“Not even one?”
“Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?” She raised a brow, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“Well, you always were fun after a few drinks…” He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She grimaced at his words, but luckily he didn’t notice as he was too busy waving at the bartender.
He ordered, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Y/N’s eyes wandered across the back of the bar as she absentmindedly bobbed her head to the song playing, mouthing some of the words. “Oh, I’ll get these.” They both turned to see Cillian standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, a friendly smile on his face.
“It’s alright, mate. I promised I’d get the birthday girl her first drink.” Her husband’s hold on her tightened as he spoke, his fake grin wide enough to blind a man.
Y/N stood there between the two men, her heart pounding as she felt Cillian’s stare on her face. He’d had good intentions coming over, wanting to keep an eye on her, but she wished he’d stayed put at his table. She already struggled to act normal around her husband, and her lover’s presence only made things ten times more difficult.
“Perhaps some shots then? My treat?” Cillian rested his arm on the bar, catching the attention of another bartender.
“She doesn’t want – “
“Shots sound great. Thanks, Cill – ian.” She stuttered, correcting the nickname before her husband noticed. He looked down at his wife, then back at the man beside her who calmly ordered, leaning over the bar so he didn’t have to shout. Funny how she suddenly agreed to shots when he was the one paying…
Cillian passed Y/N and her husband a shot each, and they downed the drinks together. She winced as it burned her throat, sticking out her tongue as she groaned. “Tequila! Are you trying to kill me?” 
The Irishman laughed, nodding a last thank you across the bar. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled sincerely, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. He left the bar, rejoining the cast and crew and instantly slotting himself into a conversation. She watched him fondly, almost forgetting about the man stood behind her. Stretching his arm over her shoulder, her husband placed the drink into her hand. 
She turned and took a sip. “Thank you… Wait, you didn’t take your shot?” She asked, pointing at the full glass on the bar. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. “Why not?”
Swallowing with a loud ‘ah’, he shrugged, his expression blank. “I figured it was a moment to be shared between the two of you. Here. Why don’t you have mine?” He slid the shot towards her, tapping the rim of the glass twice. “Go on. It’s your birthday after all.” 
“You’ve got some nerve. Can’t you go a day without starting this bloody argument?” She hissed, pushing the shot back to him. Some of it spilt over the edge, leaving a sticky sheen on the bar. “Drink it, and let’s go join my friends.” 
“I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me to.” He leaned down to her level, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t scared of him; she just saw him as a pathetic, jealous little boy. When he behaved like this, it made her wonder why she ever felt bad for cheating on him at all. 
“Fine. You want to be a child? Then two can play that game, babe.” She spat, turning on her heels and heading towards Cillian. She slipped herself into the group between him and Sophie, linking arms with the woman on her left. “Which one of you is going to dance with me?” 
“I thought you’d never ask!” Sophie squealed, taking Y/N’s drink. “Look after this, will you?” Thrusting it into Cillian’s free hand, she then dragged Y/N into the nearest space, throwing her arms in the air and whooping to the music. They joined hands and spun around like two girls in a playground, shouting the wrong lyrics to the song and giggling uncontrollably. 
Y/N twirled around and set her sights on Cillian, beckoning him over with her finger. “I’m not dancing!” He laughed over the music, keeping a firm grip on their drinks. “I’m guarding your drink!” 
“No, go on. It’s her birthday.” Her husband goaded, appearing behind Cillian. Y/N frowned as she watched the two men speak, unable to hear what they were saying. Sophie grabbed her and spun her around, putting her back to them.
“Shouldn’t it be you dancing with her?” Cillian asked innocently, gently placing the drinks on the table. 
“Oh… I don’t think she’s my friend at the moment.” 
Watching his wife dance, he got the sense he was losing her; that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d noticed how Cillian watched her, that lovesick puppy dog smile pasted on his face and eyes following her every move. He had attended many an event with her past co-stars, and none of them had ever looked at her like that. To him, Cillian was showing off, gloating that he’d lured his wife away from him. He wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if it was the last thing he ever did.
Y/N stumbled out of Sophie’s grasp, dizzily making her way back to the table. “Everything alright?” She asked, out of breath and reaching for her drink. “It’s a workout dancing with her.” 
“Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s fine. I was just talking to Cillian here about you. About the two of you, I mean.” Sniggering behind his glass, he gulped down the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Cillian’s face contorted in confusion, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, toes curling inside his shoes out of frustration.
“What’s he said to you?” She asked, directing her question to Cillian. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be rudely interrupted. 
“So quick to jump to his defence.” 
“We’re not doing this here.” Y/N snapped, dropping her glass with a thud. “You are not showing me up in front of my colleagues, my friends.” 
“Pick a place then, love. It won’t make a fucking difference.” Her husband could be nasty when need be, but she wasn’t about to stand and take it, especially not with an audience. 
“Right - “ Cillian started, cut off by Y/N barging past them both and towards the doors. This caught the attention of her cast mates, which Cillian quickly fed a lie to before speeding after her. 
He found her outside, stood against the wall and hunched over, hands clutching her knees. “Y/N, I’m so sor - “ 
“Cillian, don’t you dare apologise for his behaviour. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook as she spoke, the sudden rush of anger overwhelming her. She slid down the wall, sitting on the pavement, her exposed shoulders flat against the cold bricks. “Who does he think he is? Acting like that in front of everyone? I could lose my fucking job.” 
“You wouldn’t lose - “ 
“Yes, Cillian. I would. If the studio… If the writers found out about this - “ 
“They won’t.” He asserted, kneeling down so they were on the same level. “They won’t.” 
She took a few deep breaths, Cillian’s presence calming her down as he crouched opposite her, his fingers resting lightly on her knees. “You know, for months I have felt like the worst human being in the world. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the cheat staring back, the lousy fucking cheat.” 
“So, you’re not perfect. You’ve done some, admittedly not great things, but I don’t think anyone in there would blame you.” 
“Somehow I don’t think they’d praise me for fucking my co-star behind my husband’s back.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “God, I’m sorry, Cillian. I’m not trying to… You’re so much more than that, I – “
“It’s alright. You’re upset… And I can handle whatever you throw at me.” He joked, reaching out to pinch her chin.
Hearing the doors swing open, the two flinched, Cillian rising from the ground instinctively. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” Y/N’s husband drawled, sauntering towards them. “So… I was right, yeah? You and him?” He pointed between them, his words directed at Y/N.
“Please…”
“Just answer me. Put me out of my God damn misery.” He threw his arms in the air in defeat, letting them fall to his sides, hitting his thighs with a loud slap.
Pressing her palms against the ground, Y/N pushed herself up, adjusting her dress as she steadied her feet. She approached her husband, and Cillian put his arm out to try and hold her back. “It’s OK, Cill.” She stood looking up at the man she once loved, her hands balled into fists at her side, thumbs picking at the fabric clinging to her legs. “You’re right. You figured it out.”
He exhaled a laugh, kissing his teeth. “I knew it.” Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the sky and sighing deeply. “How long?” He looked back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed. “Y/N, how long?”
“Since my twenty-ninth birthday…” She said shyly, realising just how much worse that made everything look. It had been exactly a year, pretty much to the hour, that she’d shared the first kiss with Cillian that started it all.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, I am sorry for interrupting your little anniversary night…” Exasperated, he took a deep breath and exhaled the air with puffed cheeks. “You know what? You are not the woman I married.” He pointed his finger in her face, but she didn’t react. Folding her arms over her chest, she stepped back until she felt Cillian against her, his hands supporting her upper arms. He whispered comforting words into her ear and her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at her husband, distant and unblinking.
Silence fell upon them, and Y/N expected more to be said, but was surprised to witness her husband turn and walk away. Anything else he had left to say was muttered under his breath as he disappeared around the corner. She and Cillian waited a few seconds to see if he would come back, but the street stayed unusually empty and quiet. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” Cillian whispered, and she spun in his arms, clinging onto him desperately.
Her thoughts felt like they were drowning in a whirlpool, like she couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard she tried. The heaviness in her heart had dissipated, but the ache in her stomach and throbbing in her head persisted. “Can we get out of here, please?” She begged, her head buried in Cillian’s chest.
“Shall I tell the others we’re leaving?”
“Just leave it. Please, can we just go?” Her voice cracked as her hold on him tightened, pieces of his shirt screwed up between her fingers.
“Alright. Let’s go.”
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Lying on the bed, Y/N stared at the ceiling, her fingers ghosting over Cillian’s as he laid beside her. A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over her body, making her feel weak yet incredibly alive at the same time. She wanted to jump up and down, to declare her feelings for Cillian from the highest rooftop she could find. However, another part of her wanted to hide, to burrow under the covers like a scared child until it was safe to come out. She was too afraid to check her phone; it was probably already blowing up with messages from her family and friends.
How could you? 
Who was there for you when you were starting out? Did the fame get to your head? 
He’s heartbroken! You should be ashamed. 
The mere thought of it all made her head spin, and it was far easier to leave her phone on do not disturb and pretend no one else existed for a moment. Her thoughts felt so loud, and she wondered if they both held their breaths for a moment, would Cillian be able to hear the gears twisting and turning inside her brain? Or the steam coming out of her ears? 
“Some birthday this was.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Am I supposed to feel bad? Like… Is this the point where I’m supposed to cry and scream about how terrible of a person I am?” 
“You can if you want to.” Cillian turned his head to the left, and she looked over at the same time, their eyes meeting in the middle.
“No… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. I don’t feel bad, not anymore. Is that horrible?” 
“How do you feel?” 
This was a new feeling for Y/N, for the both of them in fact. Throughout their relationship they’d spoken about everything from their favourite albums to their very particular pet peeves. They’d even spent a whole night debating the existence of aliens, sitting out on the balcony of a hotel room and bickering with each other beneath the stars. The thing they hadn’t really spoken about were their feelings, including their feelings for each other. Those three fateful words were still dangling from the tip of Cillian’s tongue, and there was so much Y/N wanted to say in return.
“I feel… Relieved. I feel free.” Clasping her hands together, she tucked them under her head. “That’s awful to admit, isn’t it?” 
“It’s better than pretending.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of her dress. “Paul was right, you are a vision in red.” 
Y/N giggled, swatting his hand away and adjusting the strap. “You are such a flirt!” 
They stayed looking at each other, studying each other’s faces as if there was something new to see. Y/N counted the little flecks in Cillian’s bright blue eyes, watching his pupils twitch and change sizes with every few blinks. He added up the freckles on her face, imagining how they’d look if they were connected like tiny constellations across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, his tongue poking out to swipe across his bottom lip. “What?” She asked, eyes squinting with playful suspicion. 
“Nothing. It’s nothing.” His voice was gentle and quiet, barely reaching above a whisper. It wasn’t necessary in the room they were in. Not a single sound could be heard around them, except for their breathing and bodies shuffling against the sheets. He swallowed his words, assuming that perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear them. It had only been an hour since she confessed to her husband in the street, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with a big declaration of love. He’d know when the time was right, he was sure of it.
Rolling off the bed, Y/N pressed a kiss to Cillian’s forehead and went to take a shower. Whilst she was gone, he looked around the bedroom, spotting various bits of his belongings scattered from the many times he’d stayed over. Filming for the series was almost complete, and it would soon be time for them to pack up their rentals and head home, wherever that may be. He thought about how things might change now that they technically didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Would people start to notice? Would they be victims of some derogatory Daily Mail headline by morning? 
Returning in a towel, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, combing through her damp hair in the mirror. Cillian knelt behind her, balancing on the mattress as he ducked his head down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the birthday you deserve.” He murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling of his lips moving across her shoulder blade. 
“I think it was exactly what I deserved.” She whispered, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed up at her through his lashes. 
“There’s still just under two hours left of it. Do you think we can turn it around?”
“What do you suggest?” 
Cillian scrambled to his feet, hitting the carpet with a clumsy thud. Clicking his fingers, he pointed to Y/N, a goofy smile on his face. “You still have that wine in the fridge?” 
“You really trust me to drink wine after last time?” She raised a brow then mimed throwing up, clutching her stomach with her arm. “After last time…” She fake gagged, making him grimace.
“OK, OK! Bad idea!” 
He stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N admired the view in front of her, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something oddly appealing about Cillian in regular clothes with the signature Tommy Shelby haircut. He wore a crisp white t-shirt with dark jeans, which just happened to be one of her favourite looks on him. It was simple, yet he somehow made it the most attractive thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes followed the trail of his veins down his forearm, where they reached the hand that sat just above his waistband.
“I’m gonna be honest, that was my only idea.” He laughed, resting his cheek in his hand. 
“Cillian…” She said softly, shuffling to the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”
As he approached, she parted her legs, giving him enough room to stand between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down, his eyes meeting hers. She looked so beautiful like this; just wearing a towel with unruly wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her cheeks blushed a light pink, decorated in a couple of stray droplets of water from the shower. 
“Closer.” She whispered, reaching up to grab his shirt. He lifted his knee and rested it on the mattress beside her, using his hands as support as he hovered over her, lowering her until she was laid on her back. 
“Is this close enough?” He breathed, his palms flat on either side of her head. 
“Almost…” 
He lowered himself further as if he was performing a press-up, using the strength in his wrists to steady himself above her. “This will do.” She smiled, bringing her lips to meet his. 
Dropping to his elbows, Cillian weaved his hands into her hair, tugging gently at the root. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her back to inch herself closer to him and press their chests together. He groaned, a shiver coursing through his body as the towel around her dampened his shirt. 
Pulling away from the kiss, they each opened their eyes and gazed at the other, panting quietly with heat-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Their faces were just close enough to still be able to see one another properly without their vision blurring. Y/N sighed, her forefinger tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “Are you OK?” Cillian asked, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip. 
“Yeah, I just…” She couldn’t concentrate with his fingers under her chin, featherlight and careful across her skin. Blinking slowly, she relaxed into his touch, relishing in the feeling of the goosebumps that prickled her cheeks. 
“We can stop if you want.” 
“No, no. That’s not what I want. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her words weren’t exactly a lie, but they didn’t seem to match the look on her face.
Worried, he flipped onto his side and laid next to her, his right hand finding a loose piece of thread hanging from the towel and twisting it around his finger. “If you need a bit of space for a while – “
“No, Cillian. Please don’t say that.”
“Alright, I’m sorry…”
“I just don’t know what happens next. Am I supposed to announce it to everyone? Do I file for divorce on Monday? How does this all work?” She laughed slightly, mostly at herself for being so clueless. “I think telling everyone my marriage is over will be the easy part. How do I tell them about us?”
“Well, the divorce stuff can wait for a bit. You don’t need to rush into anything.” He patted the bed, searching for her hand. She turned her palm upwards, letting his slide over the top and their fingers entwine. “As for telling anyone…”
“What?” She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “Do you think we should tell people?”
“I was going to say, is there really any need in telling anyone yet? I mean, we’ve kept it between the two of us for this long already and – “
“Yes, but that was because we didn’t have a choice.”
“I know... but just think about it. I think it would be weirder if we charged into work next week and announced it to everyone.”
She stared at a crease in Cillian’s shirt, daydreaming about how things were going to be. He was right. They didn’t need to shout about it, and Y/N certainly didn’t want to draw any attention to herself just yet. She already knew what people were going to think of her and label her as, and she wanted to delay the backlash for as long as possible; whether her husband was going to allow that was another story…
Cillian opened his arms for her, scooting higher onto the bed so his feet were no longer dangling off the edge. She followed, snuggling into him and tangling her legs with his. The silence between them was heavy, like there were a million words going unsaid. Y/N knew that Cillian was everything she wanted, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to her husband. Being married to someone for four years was going to leave a stamp on her forever, but she sincerely hoped he’d be OK, and that he wouldn’t try to inflict a war on her and Cillian. She knew in time that things would smooth themselves out and feel normal, but for now, she was content to sit in her little confusing bubble, just as long as Cillian was in it with her.
“Cill?”
“Mhm?”
“When we met earlier in wardrobe, and I spotted that box, what was in it?” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes.
“You really wanna know?” She nodded. “OK… Well, that box wasn’t actually for you.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what was in it! It was already there.”
“Cillian!” She slapped his chest playfully and he huffed, feigning hurt. “Why did you say it was for me?”
“Technically, I didn’t! You just assumed.” He laughed, watching her cheeks redden and brows knit together. “Don’t look so disappointed! Listen, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow when I give, or rather take you to your real present.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“That’s all I’m saying! I’m not going to spoil it.”
“Fine…” He hugged her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She listened to his heartbeat, counting the thumps in sets of eight. Looking up from his chest, she was surprised to see him already looking at her. “What about my other present?” She whispered.
“What do you – Oh, right. That.”
She sat up, kneeling beside him so she could see him better. He rotated onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and tucking his hands under his arms. “Y/N – “
“No, wait!” She turned her head, fixing her messy hair and readjusting the towel around her body. Turning back with a flip of her hair and a dramatic flailing of her arms, she gestured for him to sit up.
“What are you doing?”
Awkwardly crawling closer on her knees, she ran the back of her hand over his cheek, leaving it to rest below his jaw. “Cillian.”
“Y/N.” He chuckled, and she immediately hushed him. She tried her best to be serious, but laughter threatened to burst out of her. “Whatever you’re doing, please get on with it because you’re freaking me ou – “
“Here it comes…” She spoke in her best attempt at an Irish accent, cringing at herself.
“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He threw his head back, belly laughing, and she grabbed him by his shirt to pull him back. Composing himself, he bit his cheeks to refrain from laughing any more. “Sorry… Go on.”
“I love you.”
He was silent, staring at her as he ran his fingers along his upper lip nervously. He knew it was coming, yet it still caught him by surprise, hearing those words come out of her mouth. He’d heard her say them plenty of times when they were in character, but this was different. They sounded so sweet when they finally meant something, and feeling her eyes on him made his heart pound in his chest. “Too cheesy?” Y/N asked, dropping the terrible accent.
“Cheesy, but I liked it.”
Sitting down cross-legged, she reached her hand out for him which he gladly took. He kissed her knuckles softly, keeping his lips there as he looked up at her. “I love you too.” He confessed. Both their bodies seemed to slump as if a weight they’d been carrying had been lifted, and despite everything that had happened, or rather gone wrong, that night, this moment felt right.  He kissed her again, before slotting his fingers between hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to be OK.”
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russellsppttemplates · 7 months
Text
Papa loves you so much, princess (Mick Schumacher)
Mick and Y/N find out their family is growing
Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy! I have been talking about this since January, so this is ver long overdue!
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Tw: mentions reader's period and pregnancy
Getting up from the bed, you were fortunately quick enough to reach the bathroom in time to pour your guts out on the toilet, leaning on the toilet's side to support your torso. You were already up by the time Mick walked inside the bathroom, his sleepy expression with some traces of concern, "I told you I shouldn't have had that last piece of dessert", you pointed your finger at him through the mirror while you splashed your face, "you kept looking at it like you were a dog that was abandoned on the road, and then when I asked if you wanted my piece, I swear I saw happy tears in your eyes", your husband teased you, rubbing your back in a comforting manner, "do you want me to get you anything?", he asked, "just some cuddles in bed should do the trick", you muttered, allowing him to carry you back to the bed for a few more hours of hopefully uninterrupted sleep.
.
After leaving work, you stopped by the grocery store since you and Mick had noticed you were running low and running out of a few items at home, "we just had a snack break and the next part of the meeting should be the last one, I'm sorry I'm not helping you", he said over the phone while you browsed the aisles, "it's okay, handsome. You can still help me out here, though. I'm the cleaning section and I already have dish soap and the spray for the wooden cabinets, anything else?", you asked, earning a negative answer from him, "no, that's all I think. Next is the bathroom one, right? We are running low on toilet paper, and I used the last plaster yesterday. You only had one box of tampons in the cabinet so given that you are about to have your period, see if you need more of them", he pointed out, grabbing your attention to the matter. It should have started by now, you checked the date on your watch. And you were never late.
"We also need those tissues you keep on your bedside table, I used some today and I noticed they were the last ones", you could hear the smile on his voice, "alright, bub. I'll see you at home, have a good meeting!", you dialed off, grabbing the things he mentioned before looking at the pharmacy section.
You were never late, so it had to be this, right? Barring any other health situations, all of your symptoms aligned with pregnancy symptoms: you had been nauseous, feeling sick (and maybe it wasn't the stolen dessert's fault), you kept falling asleep whenever you rested on the sofa at home and Corinna had complimented the way one of your summer dresses fitted you, claiming that the neckline looked beautiful on you. And you and Mick had been trying, not with a whole calendar but rather just not using protection and seeing where it led you, and maybe this was it. Grabbing two boxes for the sake of it, you put them in your shopping trolley before heading to the till to pay for everything so you could go home.
When Mick got home, dinner was already on the table while you also fed Angie her own dinner, his kiss on your forehead coming with an apology for having arrived just in time for it, "no need to apologise, myself and miss Angie kept ourselves busy", you petted her soft fur before heading to wash your hands, joining Mick at the table and enjoying the meal.
"Does it taste okay to you?", you asked Mick, the taste of the broccoli seemingly off to you, "yes, tastes like this dish always tastes. It's very good, why do you ask?", he questioned, "I don't know, tastes funny to me", you mumbled, using your fork and knife to push the green vegetable to the edge of your plate, "maybe you got a bad one", he noted. That was another symptom, you thought, remembering when one of your friends couldn't eat her favourite meal while she was pregnant because she claimed it tasted different.
"Actually, I've been having a few symptoms, and they are all compatible with-", you were interrupted by your husband, "pregnancy", he smiled, seeing your brushed and stunned face, "I've noticed them too. You haven't told me you are craving your usual sweets when you're on your period, your boobs look even more amazing but the moment I so much as graze my finger in the skin you hiss because of the pain, you're not one to take naps during the day but the moment your head hits the pillow you're out like a light, and it's not common for you to have a bad stomach", he reasoned, making you blush even harder, "Why didn't you say something though?", you asked softly.
Mick shrugged his shoulders, "I just didn't want to burden you, or maybe I was keeping my hopes up and I didn't want to ruin yours, or point out something about your body like that, I'd never want to do so in a way that could be harmful", he answered apologetically, making your get up and go sit on his lap, "you could've said something, I wouldn't be offended, I think anyway, apparently pregnant women get mood swings so I can't speak for sure", you shrugged your shoulders, "truth is, I got some pregnancy tests at the store today because I also thought the same thing, but I wanted to do them with you", you looked at him, "but I don't know how to deal with this hope, like, I could just have some bug, but it is also true that everything checks out...", you fiddled and played with his fingers, "we take it step by step, if you'd like", your husband began softly, "and if you're not pregnant, we can keep trying", he explained, grabbing your hand once you nodded, heading to the bathroom so you could do the tests.
The plastic sticks were on the counter, Angie lying on the bathroom floor while Mick sat on the edge of the tub wirh you on his lap, "just a little bit more, liebling", he kissed the side of your head, "I'm sorry", you whispered, gaining his questioning look, "if I'm not pregnant, I got both of our hopes up for nothing", you explained, feeling his fingers lift your chin up to look into his eyes, "no need to apoligise, liebling. We just keep trying, it's not like we mind trying", he winked, looking at his watch to see the time was up, "I'm ready when you are", he said soflty.
You got up, picking up the sticks and seeing that both of them had the same information, "it won't be trying for a baby, but I've heard that sex while you're pregnant is a whole another level of sensations", you smiled at Mick, showing him the positive results.
"We're having a baby?", Mick mumbled, still not sure if he had grasped what you said in the right way, "we are, baby Schumacher is going to be here in nine months", you cried out, smiling as Mick cuddled you, his arms circling your before spinning you, "Angie! You're going to be a big sister!", Mick said once he put you down.
.
"I remember reading about these old wives' that help you guess the gender of the baby, and your grandmother did some on me for both of you and they turned out pretty accurate, I think", Corinna said as she sat in the outdoor sofa in front of you.
Since Gina was visiting, you and Mick decided to invite her and Corinna to spend the day together, Angie sitting next to her auntie while you sat next to Mick, "Oh, that would be fun!", Gina said as she straightened her back, picking up her phone so she could look them up on the Internet while Corinna started with the ones she knew, "they say that if you have a pointed belly towards the front, it means you're having a boy, and if you have a rounder bump and wider hips, it means it's a baby girl", she said, seeing Mick quickly ask for you consent before he helped you stand as he lifted your t-shirt, "what do we think? Pointy or not so much?", you did a turn around yourself, "I think it's rounder", Mick said earning a nod from his mother, "me too", Gina said, "but I've always had wider and rounder hips", you tried to reason as Gina wrote girl and a stick next to it to help count.
"The next one was that sweet cravings were sign of a baby girl, and salty cravings were sign of a baby boy", and Mick wiped the smug smile off his face, "I've been eating a lot of savoury stuff", you nudged your husband while his sister wrote down the tie.
Gina opened the lunar calendar on her phone while the four of you looked at all the details they asked for, "it's a girl according to this one!", Mick yelled way too close to your ear, "another point for babygirl then", you said, cuddling back to his side and giggling at everyone's exciting.
You saw and tested a couple more and, without realising it, you tried the last one without noticing it was the last, only for it to make another tie between babyboy and babygirl, "so that's it?", Mick said, not expecting it to turn out like this, "you just have to wait and see, you know, like all the people do because you can know for sure on the ultrasound", Gina teased him.
.
Once you got to the OB/GYN, Mick offered to go get you checked in at the desk while you went to find a comfortable chair to sit in while you waited, "final bet: are they a baby boy or a baby girl?", Mick said once he sat down with you, his hand holding yours to calm down your nervous thoughts. The ultrasounds always made you nervous, always wondering if everything was alright and as it should be, so having Mick there to support you and distract you was appreciated, "I think they're a baby boy, and he looks like his papa", you cradled his cheek on your palm, "I think they're a baby girl, and she has your kindness and empathy. It's just my gut feeling", he smiled, kissing the top of your head while he moved your conjointed hands to rest on your bump, feeling the baby kick, "not my chubby cheeks?", you playfully gasped, "what can I say? I think the Schumacher genes are much too strong", he teased you, looking up to the door when your name was called.
Entering the room and greeting your doctor, she asked you a couple of questions before asking you to lay on the little bed, the gel cold on your bump as she moved the wand around, "okay, everything looks good, strong heartbeat for little one and mother as well", she smiled, "I can see it. Do you still want to know?", she asked one last time, earning a nod from both you and Mick, "you're going to have a baby girl, congratulations!", she announced.
Your hand squeezed Mick's, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head as you both looked at your baby on the screen, "we're having a little girl? Liebling, it's a little girl", he said, his eyes tearing up as he kept looking at the screen. Despite having feelings and guesses about it, neither of you didn't have any preference, feeling happy just with the idea that you were carrying a combination of you and Mick, but you couldn't help but get all goddy as you imagined Mick with a little daughter, knowing she would have him wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born. Even thinking now, she has him wrapped around her finger since you both found out you were pregnant.
"She looks good, there isn't anything that looks concerning. The measurements are all within the norm, everything looks good. Congratulations, mama and papa!", she smiled, "do you want copies to take home?".
While she went to get the slightly exaggerated number of copies of baby Schumacher (Mick wanted everyone that was important in his life to have one), your husband helped you clean the skin on your bump, "are you happy?", you looked at him, not seeing any signs of uneasiness but feeling his a little bit tense, "I am, liebling", he said, "but she's going to be here soon, you know? Little one is growing so fast, I can't believe we're past the half way point", he admitted, "I just don't want to disappoint any of you", he gulped, making you craddle his face with your hands, "My love, I know you and believe me, if how everything has gone until now is any indicator, we are going to have princess treatment", you smiled softly on an attempt to calm him, "thank you for sharing this with me, though. You can always share your worries with me, Mick", you finished, kissing his lips passionately, "I love you, liebling", he kissed you back, "and you little one, papa loves you so much, princess".
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starryevermore · 7 days
Text
the house of snow (12) ✧ coriolanus snow
the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3
pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 
chapter summary: you can’t believe that this is truly a good thing. 
word count: 2,822 
series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later
chapter warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a hint of fluff, a hint of angst, pet name (petal), not proofread 
note: ok the smut isn’t the greatest bc i’ve been out of commission for a while but hopefully it gets better as the series progresses
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Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 
You tried to time your breathing with each tick of the grandfather clock in a desperate plea to not have a meltdown on your wedding night. Your new lady’s maid had just left you after helping you remove your gown. Now, you were left waiting, wearing only a silky red robe, for Coryo to arrive. You fought the urge to bite down on your fingernails. Why had your mother said anything about what your wedding night would be like? With the way your nerves were grating on you, you almost wished you were going into this with blissful ignorance. 
You crossed the room and stood in front of the large window that overlooked the grounds. Breathing in time to the ticks wasn’t doing you any good, so perhaps occupying your mind with the outside world would help. But as you looked over the rose gardens and the stables and the distant pond, your mind kept trailing back to where you were, what you were wearing, and what was going to happen. 
A pair of cold hands settled on your waist. You yelped, jerking away. When you turned, ready to strike, your husband stood before you. Husband. What a strange thing to call Coryo now. You had known this day was coming, but now that it was here…It felt different. Not like you would have expected. 
Coryo raised his hands and took a step back. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, petal,” he said. 
“I didn’t hear you come in,” you said, adjusting your robe to cover you more. It mattered little, of course, but it brought you some comfort. 
“My apologies,” he said. He sounded sincere enough. Could he be sincere? If you could believe your father, that Coriolanus had asked for your hand three times before he was told yes on the fourth, maybe he could. Unless it was all an elaborate ruse, some way for him to lord this final victory over your head. The one time he could truly win. 
“It’s alright.” It wasn’t. It was. How could one man—how could Coryo—scramble your thoughts like this? 
Satisfied that you weren’t upset with him, he took a step toward you again. You fought the urge to back yourself against the window, pray that it might fall out and take you with it. He raised his hand, caressing your face. You allowed yourself to lean into it. Your eyes fluttered shut as he stroked his thumb over the swell of your cheek. 
“I love you,” he whispered. 
You fought to keep your mouth from falling open. Love? Did he truly? You weren’t sure how much you believed it. When you were still in school, you once told Sejanus you were sure Snow had a heart of ice. The idea that he could love anyone…It felt laughable. 
“I love you, my beautiful wife,” he repeated. 
Were you supposed to say it back? It would have aided your act, to be sure. But you were half-certain that if you said those three words with even an ounce of insincerity, he would know. He would know, and you would be left dealing with whatever horrible aftermath he would deal you. 
His lips pressed against your forehead. “I just wanted you to know.”
Maybe you should’ve said it back, if only to lessen the blow. Because Coryo looked stricken as you said, “Please…don’t hurt me.”
He pulled away, his hands falling your shoulders. If it was to brace himself, or to keep you from crumbling, you weren’t sure. “What? Why would you think I—?”
“My mama said that this…hurts. That it can hurt. That women seldom feel pleasure from it.”
Rage flickered in his pale blue eyes. “And she thought I would hurt you?”
“I…She just wanted me to be prepared for what might happen.”
“Petal, for as long as I’m alive, I would never let you be hurt, not by my hand or anyone else’s. I don’t ever want you to think otherwise. Am I understood?”
Words failed you, so you offered him a nod.
“If you are ever uncomfortable, if I ever cause you even the slightest bit of pain, you tell me. And if you even want to wait until you are ready, that is fine with me. Okay?”
Again, you nodded. This time, though, it wasn’t enough. 
“I want your words, petal.”
“I understand.”
You lifted your hands, letting them settle on Coryo’s broad chest. For the first time, you realized that he was dressed down, too. Instead of his usual red attire, he was wearing a loose, white linen shirt and trousers. The shirt was thin, so you could feel the muscles of his chest. It was hard to believe the scrawny boy you once knew at the Academy had become…this.
“…And I would like to…do this.”
The corners of Coryo’s mouth tugged into a smile. If he minded your awkwardness, he gave no indication. His hands fell back to your waist and he tugged you against him. His trousers were as thin as his shirt. You squeaked as you felt him against your thigh. “Oh, petal,” he sighed, “I am going to make sure you enjoy this.”
He pulled on the tie holding your robe together, letting it fall open. Coryo glanced up at you, watching for your reaction, as he pushed the silky material off of your shoulders. You found yourself reaching for hand, guiding him to caress your soft curves. His lips captured yours. Coryo kissed you like you were giving him air. Though you were already pressed against him, his arms wrapped around you, as though if he pulled you against him more, you might meld yourself into him, become a part of him like a lung or an arm. 
Your hand found itself entangled in his white blond hair. A low growl rumbled in Coryo’s chest. “Don't tease me, petal. Not tonight,” he said against your lips. 
That felt more like a challenge than anything. You weren’t sure if this experience would be enjoyable for you, even with Coryo’s promises, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find your pleasure elsewhere. “Where’s the fun in that?”
When Coryo pulled away, his eyes were noticeably darker. “Oh, you’ll have your fun.”
He led you over to the bed, urging you to lie back. You expected him to climb over you, to lay with you, but instead, he settled between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. What was he doing? Your mother never told you about this. Why was he spreading you apart with his fingers and— 
“Oh god,” you cried out as he licked a long stripe along your intimacy. 
“Not god. Your Coryo,” he mumbled before pushing his tongue back inside you again. 
Your brain turned to mush as he found his rhythm, found out what made you cry his name over and over again. Your hand fell back to his hair, gripping it at the roots, pushing him impossibly closer to you. Fuck. Coryo wasn’t lying when he said you would enjoy this. Could you keep him here like this all night? Forget the rest of the act, the part that necessitated making an heir. With Coryo between your thighs, you could live the rest of your life a happy woman. A pleased woman. 
Something deep in your stomach began to tighten as Coryo pushed his fingers inside of you, too, stroking your walls. Your toes curled at the sensation. “Coryo, I feel—”
“Shh. Let go, petal,” he cooed. 
It felt like something erupted inside of you. As you let out a guttural scream, your legs shutting around Coryo’s head. What was that? Was this the pleasure that women so seldom get to experience? How could other men rob women of this? You had half a mind to stay in bed for the rest of your life with Coryo if it meant you got to feel like this again and again and again. 
Your thighs trembled as you released your hold on your husband. He lifted himself, pressing wet kisses up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, until he settled on your lips. Your arms wrapped around him, keeping him close to you. It was strange, wanting to be near him. Wasn’t it just a few months ago, a few weeks ago, that you wanted nothing more than to run away from this sort of life? To be anything other than the wife to a King? Oh, what you wish you could tell your (only slightly) younger self. Would she even believe you? Could you even believe it now? 
How could so much change? 
“You’re perfect,” Coryo whispered against your lips. “So perfect for me.”
He began to sit up, eliciting a whine from you. He gently pushed your hands away before reaching for his pants and undoing the ties. You were captivated as Coryo pushed the thin fabric down his thighs. And what lay between them…Oh, was this why it would be painful? Curious, you reached for it. Coryo guided your hand around him, encouraging you to give a few gentle pumps along his length. 
“Be gentle?” you asked as you dropped your hand, letting Coryo drape himself over you again. 
“For you, I’ll be anything you want.”
You let out a hiss as he guided himself inside you. God, the stretch. Your brows pinched together, your eyes screwing shut. It was too much. Yet, Coryo was slow, taking his time. It made you keenly aware of the feeling, but you supposed it was better than rushing into it. You shuddered at the thought of how painful that could be. 
Coryo pressed a kiss to your lips. “You alright, petal?”
All you could manage was a strangled whine. 
He grabbed your face, but didn’t say anything until you opened your eyes. He made sure you kept eye contact with him as he said, “If it’s too much, we can stop. Don’t think you have to do this just because it’s our wedding night. I would rather you want this than feel like you’re being forced.”
A part of you wanted to tell him to stop. But a greater part of you, the part of you that remembered the pure ecstasy you felt just moments before when his head was between your legs, wanted to experience that all over again. (Was that selfish? Maybe. But after this mess of an engagement, maybe you deserved to be selfish.) So you found yourself pulling Coryo down for another kiss, whispering against his lips, “I want you.”
Coryo kissed you as he rocked his hips into you. And, oh, if you thought the stretch was too much, you had no idea what was coming for you. You could feel him—every part of him. The entire world faded away until all that was left was your Coryo. Another whimper escaped your lips. You felt a question on the tip of his tongue. You kissed him harder, hoping that if you distracted him enough, he wouldn’t stop. Because, for as intense as this was, you were chasing that high and you would be damned before you let anyone get in the way of it. 
Slowly, though, the pain melted into pleasure. Your moans echoed off the walls, Coryo taking it as a sign to pick up the pace. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingernails digging into his back. You were sure you would be frightened by the sight of the marks, but that didn’t matter now. Nothing else mattered right now. 
You let out a strangled cry when Coryo hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you. Stars dotted the corners of your vision. You almost convinced yourself it was a lie that women couldn’t feel pleasure from this. Or was this just because it was with Coryo? Coryo, who seemed to so genuinely love you? Was this why some women called it making love? The idea made bile rise in your throat. Could you love Coryo? 
You screamed as the pleasure overtook you. All of the other thoughts washed away. All that was left was you, and Coryo, and this oddly perfect moment. You were so wrapped up in the new sensation that you didn’t notice your husband pulling away until he was nearly gone. He paused as your hand gripped his wrist, urging him to stay. Why would he leave? 
“I’ll be right back, petal. I need to get something to clean you up. You made quite the mess,” he said, teasing lilt rising at the end of his sentence. 
You weren’t sure how long he was gone, but it was long enough for you to regain feeling in your legs. At least, enough feeling that you were able to push yourself up into a seated position. You tucked your legs against your chest and stared at the mess. Your mother hadn’t told you that this would be bloody. How could you not notice that? Were you that blinded by pleasure that you ignored your pain? You hadn’t realized that Coryo had that sort of effect on you. What happened to the girl all those months ago that would have spat in his face for touching her? Where had she gone? So much had changed in such a short amount of time.
The bile began to rise again. How could you have let yourself fall under his spell? You once laughed with Sejanus about how all the students at the Academy fell over themselves for a moment with the charming Coriolanus Snow. What had he done to you for you to ignore the beast inside?  
A cold hand on your knee made you jerk. When you lifted your head, you saw Coriolanus standing at the edge of the bed. He pushed your legs apart and dragged a wet cloth you hadn’t realized he brought between them. You flinched. It was too rough. He was too rough. Or was this all in your head? 
Coriolanus must have seen something on your face. “Are you alright?”
You pushed his hand away and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You glanced around the room, searching for your robe. The room felt like it was spinning. Where was the damned robe? Stumbling over to the window, you finally found it. You were too exposed. After plucking it from the floor, you wrapped it around yourself as tight as you could manage and tied the string into a knot. 
“What are you doing, petal?” Coriolanus asked. You heard him walk close to you, but you propelled yourself toward the door on the other of the room. The one that connected the King’s chambers to the Queen’s. “Come to bed. Please. Talk to me.”
“I’m going to bed,” you managed as you reached the door. 
“Then why are you running?”
You pushed the door open. “I don’t wish to sleep with you.”
He followed after you. His long legs brought him to you in a few short strides. Coriolanus captured your wrist in one hand, urging you to stop. “Did I do something wrong? Petal, if I did, it wasn’t intentional.”
“I wish to be alone.”
You couldn’t look at him. You were scared to see his beautiful blue eyes dotted with sadness as he asked, “Did I hurt you?”
You wrenched your hand away. “I’ve done my duty for the night. Now, I would like to rest. Alone.”
Perhaps it was cruel to say such a thing. Perhaps Coriolanus didn’t even deserve it. But hurting him was easy. Striking him where it hurt was easy. Coriolanus Snow might genuinely love you, and nothing in your life scared you more. 
“…If that is what you wish, I won’t push it. But I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re just a duty to me. You are the petals of the most beautiful rose. You are everything.” Coriolanus looked like he was near tears when you allowed yourself a glance at his face. “We leave in the morning for my family’s cottage. I thought you might like to spend our honeymoon away from prying eyes.”
You had already gone this far. “Don’t pretend you do anything for anyone but yourself.”
Coriolanus reeled back as if you slapped him. It might have hurt less if you had. Why were you being as cruel as him? “Everything I do is for you.”
“Then let me go.”
He took a step back. So did you. Two lovers, staring at each other, neither quite sure where they went wrong. Except, you did know this was your fault. But, dammit, he started it. Coriolanus confused your thoughts. You knew him as cruel and calculating for so long…How could you trust that anything he did was truly sincere? How could you believe that a man like him could love a woman like you? 
You shut the door. 
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