#only one is strong enough to do it himself 🥰

[afaes]

anyway, the parallels of “I’m getting her back.” and “Get her back.” speak for themselves <3

[hotchs-big-hands]

Ada my love you know that boyfriend ‘test’ of handing them your purse/handbag/bag when you go to the bathroom to see how they hold it? Yeah I need your take on our BAU men x that trend pls. Would they hold your purse?

AAAAAAAAA HELLO MY LOVE ROME ITS SO NICE TO SEE YOU IN THE ASKBOX 🥰🥰🥰🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖🥨💖

gosh I LOVE this trend thing, it's cute. I'll ummmm do smth I've never done before and do some hcs for more than just ayayron, as requested 😳😳😳😳😳 gahdayum

What the different BAU men would do if asked to hold your bag/purse for you when you go the bathroom.

GN!reader|sfw

Aaron Hotchner

Okay so this man is like. The biggest gentleman ever of course. So when you approach him during a team night out with your bag he takes it without hesitation to your question.

"Of course, it's safe with me."

He is very protective of it, gripping onto it to his chest with one arm and hand whilst the other holds onto his drink as he sips periodically. He doesn't pay any mind when the others eye him curiously, and when you return he smiles slightly and holds out your bag to you.

"Here you go. Don't hesitate to ask me again as well, sweetheart."

He has to admit, he adores the delighted grin you offer in return when you thank him for holding your bag. And he's able to drown out the chuckles of the other members of the team because he's certain he probably looks like a lovesick puppy.

Derek Morgan

Derek raises his brow with a teasing grin as you ask him to hold your bag for you.

"Mind if I take a lil peek?" He jokes, chuckling when you babble at him not to look, panic flashing in your eyes. "Relax, sweets. I'm not gonna look."

Holds it under his muscular arm and stares down anyone who gives him a funny look. He's shameless, plus he's happy you trust him to take care of your stuff.

You return momentarily and look relieved to see him holding it protectively. He smiles and holds it out to you when you're close enough.

"There you go, sweets. Don't worry, I didn't look inside." He winks at you and you lightly shove him, pouting playfully. He loves teasing you.

Spencer Reid

Man's shook when you ask him of all people to hold your bag for a moment.

"Me? I-I mean of course I'll hold it!" He hates that his voice cracked but you don't seem to mind though, smiling sweetly and thanking him before you turn away and disappear to find the restroom.

He is holding onto the bag straps so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. No-one is getting hold of this bag, if it's the last thing he'll ever be sure of. Derek saunters over with a grin and chuckles as he points out how tight his grip is. But even as he feels heat rush to his cheeks, he dutifully holds on tight to your bag.

Your return makes him smile with relief, but he holds on tight to the bag even as you now come to stand face-to-face with him. You hold your hand out and ask for your bag back and he flushes. "R-right yeah, here!" He said quickly and holds the bag out, grip still strong until you take hold of it.

You giggle softly and thank him, and he grins awkwardly as he watches you turn away and head off elsewhere. It's only when he feels Derek's hand lightly land on his shoulder that he refocuses and embarrassment floods his senses. Hopefully, he'll be more confident in himself next time you ask him to hold your bag.

David Rossi

When you timidly approach Dave at the table he's seated at with Aaron and hold out your bag to him, he raises a brow at you when you ask him to hold your bag for you for a moment.

"Hm? You want me to take care of it for you? Of course, tesoro."

He places it on the table in front of him, not without smoothing his hands over the surface slightly because well, he is fond of you after all. Aaron huffs out a quiet snort, raising his brow with a grin at him. Dave shakes his head and waves him off.

You're quick to return with a shy smile, thanking him sweetly for keeping an eye on your bag. He picks up the bag and holds it out to you, making sure you've secured it before he drops his arm. "Anytime, tesoro. I'll look after it for you."

He winks at you and delights in your flustered movements, meeting his eye and as Aaron stands and gives him a pointed look, Dave pulls out a chair next to him and invites you to join him for the evening.

Lmao this was probably shit but I'm not too confident writing for other characters 😭😭 I hope people enjoyed tho regardless KSSKSK

[bandgie]

Hiya I just read some of your work and I love it, do you think you could do a Yandre perv Seungmin, only if you can. Have a good day 🥰

a/n: thank you so much! and yes on it!

synopsis: You start to notice little things when Seungmin first moves in with you. Maybe your underwear goes missing and you swear he's starting to use your perfume. Weird, but not necessarily bad. Well, not yet anyway, you still haven't found the camera he's set up.

warnings: nasty Seungmin lol

872 words

Your eyes scanned the floor of your bedroom, confused. You swear you left your clothes out on the bed when you got out of the shower, but it was missing. More specifically, your underwear. Maybe I didn't pull them out, you think.

Even then, this isn't the first time it's happened. You've noticed a huge decrease in the amount of panties you own. Things tend to go missing in the house, that's always been a thing. But why your thongs?

You change into your shirt, wrapping a towel over your middle and lower section before leaving the room.

"Seungmin?"

He hears you call him from behind his bedroom door. Your pretty black undies are pressed against his nose. Granted, they're clean, so the smell isn't as strong. But it does the job. The faint scent of your smell is enough to get him hard, tugging pitifully at his cock.

He shoves the underwear underneath his pillow and sits up. Seungmin shoves his dick in his sweatpants, ignoring how uncomfortable it is to feel the sensitive skin rub against the fabric. He only pokes his head out when he answers. 

No bra, as usual. Your hardened nipples peek through the thin shirt which is slightly wet from your dripping hair. You smell nice, and judging from the towel around your waist, you just took a shower. 

"What's up?" 

You shift weight from one leg to the other, "Weird question, but have you seen my clothes around? I can't find anything to wear."

That's because I have most of them, he thinks to himself. "Uh no? Do you need some pajamas?"

Nodding, you answer. "Please. Just some bottoms."

Seungmin complies and closes the door, telling you that he just needs a minute. Which is half true, it won't take a long time to cum now. Not with the image of you naked in the shower, letting the soap and water drip down your body.

He drops back down on the end and grabs your underwear. He inhales your panties deeply, poking his tongue out to taste just a smidge of you. Seungmin much prefers when they're used. The smell is strong that way, and they're sometimes even warm. He didn't have time to dig through your dirty clothes this time.

Seungmin tears his jogger off and trails the panties down his body until it catches onto his hard cock. He wraps it around his length and slowly pumps himself. Quickly, he reaches for his phone and open his most used app. He's connected the feed to the hidden camera in your room. 

It's wrong of him, so horribly criminal of him to use your obliviousness like this. 

Even then, he can't help the twinge of excitement that courses through him as he views you through his screen. You're in your room, towel abandoned onto your bed. He watches as you continue to look for your undergarments. 

You bend and kneel, giving Seungmin a perfect view of your pussy. It's not aroused, not dripping the slick as it normally would when you played with yourself late into the late. In a way, Seungmin finds it better like this. 

Your complete blindness to what Seungmin's doing turns him on more. Here he is jerking himself off and getting your panties soaked with precum while you remain unknowing. 

Seungmin finds himself bringing the phone to his lips, tongue peeking out to lick the digital version of you. Fuck, he wishes it was you. Your pretty cunt drooling as he'd eat you out. How you'd pull him closer by the hair, suffocating him in you. 

The thought being Seungmin closer to the edge. Maybe you'd let him put his cock in. He would stretch you out so nicely, your perfect walls hugging him. Seungmin can't imagine how warm you'd be, how beautiful your moans would sound. 

The dildo you fuck yourself on isn't enough, it can't be. Whenever he watches you through the phone, he can see how restless you get. There you were, doing all the work just to cum. You'd rather lie down and take it, at the will of the person fucking you.

Maybe Seungmin should play with you while you sleep. Cum inside you so you'd wake up feeling satisfied, complete. It's always been a dream of his. To imagine you waking up to the drag of his cock. Shh, he'd say. It's just a dream.

He's cumming before he knows it. Thinking of perverted thoughts about you always makes him finish.

He's thankful your underwear catches most of the spurts, the rest dripping down his balls. Seungmin stares are your pixelated pussy, watching how you wrap the towel back around your waist once you give up looking for something to wear.

It's then that he remembers how he promised you some bottoms.

Looking through his drawers, Seungmin finds a pair of sweatpants that are too small for him. He takes your cum stained underwear and uses his finger to collect small amounts of the white substance. He smears it into the joggers, making sure to blend it perfectly into the crotch area.

Seungmin only finds it fair to have you walk around with his cum on you. He always does it with yours.

a/n: perv? yes. yandere? maybe not so much. seungmin strikes me as the yandere type to think about you and only you all the time, not necessarily action based hope you liked it! edit: part two here

[shirefantasies]

How Many Kids Do They Want? LoTR Edition

This is just a headcanon set I like to think about because I love little ones & think all of the characters would make great parents in their own way 🥰 I definitely am going to expand on this in the future but for now enjoy!

Aragorn

He wants to bring a life into the world, but only under good circumstances. When the time comes, he favors a small family he can focus on- one child is enough for him. As much attention as he can possibly give goes to his little one that way, no resentment, no competition, all of the time in Aragorn’s world to spend with those dearest. Despite the pressure to have a son, he is happy to have either a son or a daughter as long as they are happy and healthy and provided for. Aragorn’s child will grow up with an amazing guide to do what is right and care for their friends and family, not to mention learning Elvish and many skills to survive outdoors if need ever arises.

Legolas

Open-minded for sure, but I think he actually leans toward a larger family. No extreme amount, but four or five sounds good to him! Legolas is very caring, patient, and even has a playful side that all lend well to spending time with wee ones. No strong preference on sons or daughters, Legolas cares more for smiling faces and fair hearts. He pretends to be competitive with his children to motivate them, but always caves and lets them win in the end! They’ll all become amazing archers if he has anything to say about it.

Boromir

Having a big family warms Boromir's heart. He wants to be different from his father, carve out space for each and every child individually. Having a big family shows in his mind how much he loves his spouse and can provide for everyone, too. Boromir is definitely the type of dad whose children just come barreling toward the door upon his return home, rocketing into his arms as he manages to catch them all! If you ask him, Boromir's ideal family size would be four or five children. He loves the idea of having a son or sons to train up, but really doesn't want to miss out on having beautiful daughters too, so his hope is for a mix of both. Constantly encouraging his sons and praising every achievement at their passions. The girls are ladies of Gondor and nothing shall take that from them, least of all their father, who is always joining their tea parties and letting them take turns as queens knighting him and each other.

Gimli

Dwarves tend to have smaller families, whether that is by choice or happenstance. Gimli enjoys the idea of having three children, a moderate amount, and of course he really would love a son. He wants a mini-me as they say, a small reflection of himself to share all his favorite things with and teach to defend all that is important to him. Daughters are less common among his people, thus of course they are of great value and would be a blessing were he to have any as well. Gimli would constantly be hyping them up and reminding them that they are worth so much, any man in their life had better treat them so or else!

Frodo

If he were to have children, Frodo favors a smaller family. Growing up, it was just him and his uncle for as long as he remembered, and he likes the idea of being able to focus more on his child. Thus, his perfect family size if you ask is simply one or two children. In his mind there’s something about having a son, perhaps a mirror to his own youth or someone to impart his lessons into in the sense that feels most traditional to his family dynamic, but the idea of having one of each makes him so happy- Frodo’s little girl would have him wrapped around her finger!

Sam

I know I said at one point Sam only wants like three but that’s because I didn’t realize he canonically has so many forgive me. We all know Sam loves the idea of having a big family! Canonically he’s even down to have thirteen children, but of course he is fine with a smaller number too. Just definitely more than one, at least three or four. Sam has so much love to give and he adores bringing life into the world and nurturing it more than anything. Every little one is their own unique person he loves to foster and dote on. He wants some of each of course, but just loves the idea of having little girls especially!

Merry

Really wants one of each. His family will feel like a full package that way and he wants every type of experience he can have, walking a daughter down to her wedding and letting her dress him up and playing games with his son. Teaching both of them how to stand up and fight for themselves, of course! Merry is so the type who wants a mini version of both him and his spouse if he can have it. Would make so many jokes about the little clones and just melt for the child who looks like his partner. Regardless of who she looks like, his little girl has his exact smile and you'll always catch them making it at each other before the next moment of teasing and mischief!

Pippin

Wants so many kids. Five to ten, no problem. Numbers aren’t his concern so long as he can be involved with each and every one of them. Just the type who wants his family to be a small army! Definitely wants to experience having sons and daughters, but statistically he’s going to anyway at his rate! So good at getting down to their level and having the greatest time with them, but also showering them with love and calming words and learning their needs by actually listening. Just Pippin and his little army of fellow neurodivergent sweethearts all with different passions and gifts and special interests.

Faramir

Willing to concede to his partner especially if that’s who actually bears the children. Faramir adores the idea of having a family, of doing everything differently than he experienced, of pouring true love and respect into a little soul doing their best, and that is where his happiness truly lies. A part of him likes the idea of having two sons as full atonement for his and Boromir’s difficult childhood, but even one would make him happy. He is so patient at explaining things to a young mind and his optimism comes out all the more when spending time with a little one- all the world’s beauty is that much brighter!

Eomer

Big family! More than a number he dreams of a boisterous, active home where no one is ever lonely. A warm hearth and the voices of children nearly ever-present. His heart swells as he imagines having one in each hand and plenty more all around him. Eomer, for whatever reason, has the number six in his head. Of course he wants sons, sons to train as fine riders and fighters, but his sister has proved to him that that future is not lost on Rohan’s maid either. He would be so much softer, gentler with his daughter(s), still showing her things like how to shoot an arrow or how he sharpens his blades but with greater care. Gathering everyone for story time is one of Eomer’s greatest delights.

Haldir

For much of his life, Haldir did not think about children, was uncertain that was a future he would even attain. Thus, as the time approaches for consideration he realizes he simply feels blessed by the prospect and is very willing to listen to his partner about their wishes. Granted, he does not wish to live beyond his means or in a way that he could not provide for all he needs to, but in general he is open. The beauty of Lothlórien grows with every new addition, every fair member of elfkind so he is happy with boy(s) or girl(s). He would teach his daughter(s) to walk with grace and uphold their ancient strength and remind his son(s) that honor and respect must center all their actions.

Eowyn

Traditional housewife ‘duties’ were never her desire. Thus, she does not want a large family, though the idea of raising a little life with her partner makes her happy. She only wants one child, maybe two so they can play together, and her family will feel complete. Any child(ren) of hers will surely be active, so she and her spouse will have their hands full with whoever! Strength is a matter of the heart, and Eowyn will raise a strong family no matter if they are male or female. She loves the idea of having a daughter or daughters to share her stories and triumphs with, though- future Shieldmaidens of Rohan!

Arwen

She wants to be able to focus on her family, so ideally not a huge one. Carrying on her legacy and having someone to care for with her partner, a living breathing proof of their love and commitment, is the most important part. She has never been too particular about if the child is a boy or a girl, just that she wants to be there for them and a calming, loving presence in their life as much as possible. So good at holding and reassuring them it’s like magic.

Elrond

Elrond is patient, steady, and he likes to take his time both with his children and between having them. He is happy with a smaller or average-sized family, two or three children. That way he can spend his time, care, wisdom, on them all and lavish Rivendell’s resources on them in different ways. Perhaps they are interested in the rich history, the weapons of old, the art, textiles, the sheer natural beauty of the location. Whatever it may be, he will offer it to them so long as they use it well and with respect. It appeals to him to have one of each, but we all know he would have a soft spot for his daughter!

Lindir

All I can picture is twin dad Lindir. Don’t ask me why, all I know is this man elf has his hands full with a baby on each side. Exasperated but lovingly shaking his head as the two identical little elves/half-elves try to convince him they are their sibling again! Or even having one of each on one fell swoop, teaching them both their favored instrument and singing with them! Lindir doesn't mind so much whether he is to have sons, daughters, each, so long as his children have the finest things in life and know that he shall always give them what he can.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Reply/Message/Ask to join!

[catsrulesworld]

Headcanons for Miles(s)

An: I kinda went overboard but that's okay 🤗 I appreciate all the love and kind words on the posts so again can never thank you enough but pls send requests I need to get more ideas anyway enjoys these head canons about these silly gooses

Miles 1610

He sometimes shocks himself when he sneezes

His dad cuts his hair

Hobie pierced his ears

He was a cat person before the whole cat thing during the chase

His love language is physical touch

He's super clingy

Makes tons of drawings of you from every angle in different outfits and everything

He definitely forget he was Spiderman one time and came to your house through your window in his outfit it was a little like this

You:“OH MY GOD ITS SPIDERMAN”

Miles looks around: “NO WAY WHERE”

He doesn't cover his mouth when yawning

Always texts you even if he's swinging around the city

Mi corazón ❤️: Miles are you on the way I'm worried

Spidey boy: I'm almostytgere

Spidey boy: Fivemotemuns

Spidey boy: Mins*

Mi corazón ❤️: Okay love you

Spidey boy: Live you more 🥰

Hobie has tried to teach him a little guitar but Miles gets mad so he doesn't do it

He makes playlists of your favorite songs and plays if he misses you

He used Photomath or Brainly even though he doesn't need it

Science and math is his strong suit but English and social studies aren't

He's good at sports he just doesn't like them

His favorite food his mom makes is Arroz con gandules, Asopao de pollo, and Arroz con dulce

During family BBQs his favorite dance is the cupid shuffle

Only knows how to do a few dances but when he does he's incredible at it

His favorite season is summer because everyone is outside having fun

If you play sports/instruments he's at your concerts or games and if he can't go he drowns you in apologies and kisses

He's overthinker so if you don't respond in the next ten minutes he starts to think the worst

Spidey boy: Hi my love! Do you want to come over soon?

Spidey boy: My love are you okay

Spidey boy: Are you mad at me

Spidey boy: I'm sorry if you are

Spidey boy: Please talk to me

Mi corazón: I'm sorry Miles I was asleep yes I'm fine I'm not mad at you ill come over to your house after school tomorrow make sure you save me some of your mom's food 🤤i love you bb 💋

He's a big family guy so he wants to drag you to every family event that happens

Mama Rio saves you plates if you can't come and if you do she gives you tons and tons of food ( and you have to eat it all it or else)

Remembers all your favorite things meals, flowers, movies, shows, colors etc anything and everything

When he's nervous he bounces his legs or picked at his nails

Helps you pick out outfits

During class, he draws little doodles of you on his paper plus he draws you guys as little stick figures holding hands with hearts and passes it to you

Helps stray animals like cats and dogs he feeds them and pets them

Has a mural for you

If he can't sleep because he missed you he facetimes you so he can sleep

When he does face time you, the call last forever

Loves it when you hold him holding his face while you place kisses all over him, while you draw lines with his freckles

His freckles come out a lot more in the summer because of the sun he has them all over his back

Loves hugs

Likes to walk with you to simple places like the park or to an ice cream place

He's the singer in the spider band

He's tenderheaded so he never has his hair in braids

He has like a million pictures of you

He's a picky eater

Miles 42

He spoils the crap out of you if you even glance at something in the store he's already ready to buy it

Worker: I'm sorry sir but the wine glasses are not for sale

Miles: If she likes the wine glass I'm getting her the wine glass.

Worker: sir why can't you understand these are not for sale

Miles: why can't you understand that I'm getting the glasses

He got the glasses thirty minutes later

He does your hair in whatever braids you want because his mom taught him

He knows how to dance but he only does it with you

His love language is gift giving

He buys matching stuff for you guys necklaces, bracelets, plushies etc

He draws but not super often but when he does it's beautiful

He sometime listens to his dad favorite songs when he misses him

Sees Uncle Aaron as his semi father figure

His favorite game is uno even when Uncle Aaron gets mad and almost punches Miles

Helps his mom cook

His favorite season is winter because he loves the memories it brings of his dad

Lays down flowers and talks to his dads grave

He's a dry texter but he does text you

Knows you better than yourself he can always tell when somethings up

He's a cuddlebug even if he doesn't show it

He loves kisses he doesn't use chapstick but if you're wearing some he’ll kiss it off you

Face times you while he plays his games or is spray painting

Knows all the cool secret abandoned spots

Hates pictures of himself loves them of you tho

He's good at every subject in school

Helps with homework if you need it

Mama Rio loves you because ever since you came into his life he started being more happy after his dads death

Has nightmares of his dads death

He hates the morning

Loves to stargaze with you (knows all constalations)

His favorite food his mom makes is Caldo Santo, Empanadillas, Flan de Queso

Loves all food not picky what so ever

Has a sweet tooth

He passes notes to you in class

He will literally do anything for you

Wears contacts because he hates his glasses

When you date him you get scary dog privileges

Will scare anyone away if they even glance at you but he's a sweetheart deep down

Doesn't know how to explain his emotions

Cats lowkey scare him but he likes them because they're more chill

His favorite gum is Polar Ice

Always completing you

“You look beautiful ma”

“My pretty girl”

“I love that dress on you Mami”

“Estás preciosa”

Loves to go shopping with you

Holds your bags

Helps you pick out clothes

“Miles do you think this looks good on me?”

“Yes mami get that one”

“What about this one? I think it looks a little weird in the back but I don't know”

“Oh lord I'm about to act up”

“Miles!”

His mom loves when you come over for dinner she loves the extra guests

Mama Rio shows embarrassing pictures of him from when he was a baby

“And this is when my beautiful baby got mud on him so he had to take a warm bubble bath with his favorite ducks!”

“Ma, please.”

Your biggest supporter in everything

Okay I can't think of anything else I love them there so silly goose

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 2: Choose Love Or Sympathy]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra's wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook's Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother's life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting...

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, extreme babygirl energy, violence, serious injury, Larys Strong, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), Crab Family lore.

Series title is a lyric from: "7 Minutes in Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "XO" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 5.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰💜

A moment of clarity, something he’s having more of lately: eyes glassy but open, voice husky, words slow. His vast bedchamber in the Red Keep always smells like honey and rose oil and the brackish golden air that blows in off the ocean. Sounds float weightlessly through the open windows like feathers on waves, music and shouts and creaking wagon wheels, gull cries and sails cracking in the wind. Late-morning daylight is an aisle across the stone floor, a river, a channel. Aegon’s bed has been moved away from the windows; when his wounds are uncovered, direct sunlight can ravage him in minutes, fresh blisters, thickening scars.

Aegon winces as you sit behind him and knead warm rose oil into his back and shoulders. His flesh is a grisly mosaic: pink and crimson and white, knots of burgeoning scar tissue, spots that are still raw and weeping. “It itches like hell, does that mean it’s infected?”

“That means it’s healing. Do you want more?” You mean the goblet of pearlescent milk of the poppy on his bedside table. It’s always there, and refilled frequently.

Aegon shakes his head, groggy, slumped, white-blond hair loose and disheveled. “I should probably be sentient on occasion. You haven’t been helping me piss into chamber pots or anything, have you?”

You smile. “No. You’ve got servants for that.” Although they report their findings to you; Maester Arthur of Claw Isle once taught you that organ failure is a common cause of death for burn victims, even if they survive the risks of shock and festering. All appears well enough on the outside, and then they start pissing blood or their skin goes yellow as their innards lose their secretive divine cadence, that vital rhythm, and then the poor soul is gone within days.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon says. “A speck of dignity remains. It’s tragic enough that I now closely resemble an overcooked meat pie.”

You chuckle as you massage rose oil into his wounds, keeping the scars moist and supple so they do not split open when he moves, so his joints are not locked in place. He will need them when he is out of bed again. He will need them if he truly is the king. “I don’t think you look that bad.”

“Because you’re used to sifting through guts and corpses all day. I’m an improvement. I’m only half dead.” And just weeks ago, he was pleading to be all the way dead. He glances back at you, brow knitted into thoughtful furrows; you can see it between the messy locks of hair that shag over his face. “What made you want to study something like this? It’s gruesome. It’s miserable, thankless work.”

“I was never good at anything,” you tell him. “My sisters were, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t dance, couldn’t sing, couldn’t embroider patterns unless they were humiliatingly simple, and even then I loathed it. My father grew so desperate he encouraged me to try archery with my brothers. I accidentally put an arrow in the foot of a squire and that was the end of my bowwoman career.”

Aegon laughs, then groans at the pain it causes him. He turns around so he can look at you, clumsily repositioning himself on the feather mattress, propping himself up on his palms. He squints down at his left hand where his ring should be: gold wings, jade eyes. You will have to remind Aemond to give it back to him. “I was never good at anything either.”

You can’t imagine that to be true, and yet it’s what you’ve always been told, that he was gifted at drinking and whoring and nothing else. You cannot reconcile those stories with the man in front of you. You keep trying, keep failing. You slather your palms in rose oil again the then begin massaging it into his chest. Aegon watches you with muzzy, drugged interest, eyes like cold ocean currents. “Then, five years ago, my brother…” You hesitate. A real name, an imagined one? You decide there is no harm in this small truth. Aegon will not remember the name of a younger son of a Crownlands house; he barely recalls the men of his own Kingsguard, who now spend their days trotting around the castle after Aemond. “My brother Everett was burned very badly, just like you were, although his wounds were mostly to his legs. And we all thought he would die. People advised us to show mercy by giving him enough milk of the poppy to kill him. They said it would be a sin to let him suffer so terribly. Yet our maester believed he could save him. My father and eldest brother had other responsibilities to attend to, and my mother and sisters could not bear the sight of Everett’s injuries. But I watched the way the maester worked on him, and I just…I thought it was the most captivating, beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The way a body can be taken apart or put back together like stones in a wall. Place one here, remove one there, and then like magic you’ve changed the course of someone’s life. Our maester taught me how to clean burns and change bandages, and when Everett was well again, he taught me about broken bones, fevers, childbirth, wolf bites, dry drowning. I read every book on the subject of healing in my father’s library. He kept having to order me more from the Citadel. I think I would have liked to be a maester myself, but…”

Aegon grins. “You have to go marry your mystery nobleman.”

“And women can’t be maesters.”

“They made me king of the Seven Kingdoms but you can’t be a maester? Fucking ridiculous.” He studies you as your fingers—tenderly, carefully—press rose oil into the red scar that creeps up over his right cheek. “Why won’t you tell me who he is?”

He means your betrothed. Aegon keeps asking about him in his moments of lucidity. You quip: “I don’t want you to have him murdered.”

“That would solve your problem.”

“I preserve life, I don’t take it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Aegon says with a soft, tired smile. Very slowly, he reaches up with one hand to pat at his silvery hair. “Can you give me my braid back? It seems to have been washed out again.”

“Of course.”

“Why did you start doing that?”

What is the truth? Something you can’t tell Aegon. No matter how often I touch him, I want more. “It’s a war braid. You’re a warrior. You’ve earned it.”

“So I am good at something after all,” he murmurs. You rebandage Aegon’s wounds and help him lie back down again. You give him a sip of milk of the poppy, which by now is badly needed; Aegon’s face is sweated and pale and agonized. Then you clean the rose oil from your hands and begin weaving a small braid into his hair. He gazes vacantly towards the open window, bright warm light he cannot walk into. “I assume Aemond is…handling things.”

“Yes, he’s…” How will Aegon take this? Is it a relief, or a slight? There was a great ceremony. You did not attend; you were here tending to the Greens’ broken king. It’s where you spend most of your time. “He’s been made Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm.”

Aegon nods, his expression unreadable. “How’s Sunfyre?”

“Still at Rook’s Rest and gaining strength. He was climbing the cliffs as of a few days ago. But I’ll ask Aemond when I see him today.”

Now Aegon smiles again. “Sunfyre is fierce. He is extraordinary.”

“You both are,” you say as you fashion his silver braid; and Aegon stares as if he couldn’t have heard you correctly.

Her steps are so light that at first you aren’t aware she’s entered the room. You see her out of the corner of your eye and immediately stand, moving away from the bed, from Aegon. You feel strange touching him this way—unnecessarily, self-indulgently, greedily—in her presence. She is his wife, after all.

“Your Grace,” you greet Helaena, bowing. She does not look at you. She looks vaguely in Aegon’s direction instead. She is wearing a turquoise blue dress and her long hair pulled back from her face. The servants have dressed her, or Alicent; she cannot do it herself anymore. In her hands she holds a large glass jar of sticks and leaves.

“Hello, Helaena,” Aegon says, more like a sigh than a welcome.

She scurries towards him and sets the jar down on his bedside table with a clunk, right next to the goblet of milk of the poppy and a number of other drinks, things you ply Aegon with to keep him hydrated. Then Helaena speaks, her eyes on the contents of the jar. There is something else in there, you see now: a fat wriggling green creature, a caterpillar inching along the length of an upright stick. "For you."

“It’s very nice,” Aegon tells her, in a tone like a parent losing patience with their child.

“It takes nourishment and then rests,” Helaena says. “It is wrapped in a cocoon and stays there for a long while. But when it emerges, it is not just well again. It is greater than it was before. And it can fly.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Aegon makes no attempt to touch her—not even her hand, not even for a moment—but his words are kinder. “I am the worm. Thank you, Helaena. This comforts me.”

She is satisfied. She turns to leave.

“Your Grace,” you begin, and hold out your hands to her. She does not take them. She does not meet your eyes; she stares instead into the golden luminescence of the open window behind you. You can hear crashing waves and the screeches of swooping gulls. “I wanted to express…I cannot even begin to tell you…I am so, so sorry for your suffering—”

She spins away from you and sweeps out of the bedchamber. You are left looking at the empty place where she stood, heartsick and sorry. What did I do wrong? What should I have said?

Aegon offers you an apologetic smirk, but his eyes are sad. “It’s not personal. She doesn’t really like touching anybody.” This is an irony, and one that must read on your face. A king and queen—by definition, by necessity—do an inordinate amount of touching. He invades, she endures, they knit heirs together out of threads of blood and sweat. “What we have between us, it’s not…romantic. It never was.”

This is not something he should be telling you. It is not a jest but a spilling of deep, sacred truths. “I didn’t ask.”

“No. But you were wondering.”

You were. You return to the bed and sit down beside Aegon, finishing his braid. You choose your words precisely before you speak. “I don’t believe I have a right to know certain things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what you’re thinking.”

“Then let me unburden myself so there is no confusion,” Aegon insists, drowsy but fighting sleep. “There was no joy in it for me or Helaena. I tried to make it as quick and painless as I could, but still, her disdain for the task was obvious. It happened just often enough to conceive the children. And we haven’t even tried in months, not since…” He doesn’t need to say it. Everyone knows, Greens and Blacks alike. A son for a son. The murder of Jaehaerys, six years old and utterly powerless, in exchange for Aemond slaying Luke.

Do you think such a thing was just? No, of course not, how could anyone? Very few things that happen in this world are just. They come with passionate defenses but no mercy, no vision for a less violent future. The wheel goes around and around, and everyone takes their turn being crushed. “Aegon, I’m so sorry,” you tell him softly.

He shakes his head. He will not discuss it. Aegon’s remaining children, Jaehaera and Maelor, do not ask about him; on the rare occasion that Alicent brings them to his bedchamber, they do not seem to know who he is. In fairness, Aegon does not seem to know them either; he regards them with a dull sort of bewilderment, like one might peer down at a page written in a foreign language. In the hallways of the Red Keep, the children clutch at Alicent and Otto, and sometimes Aemond will take a few minutes to play with them, stacking wooden blocks or arranging cloth dolls in a miniature castle. But if ‘mother’ and ‘father’ are words the children know, you’ve never heard them spoken aloud. “Can I have some wine, please?”

“Did you finish your goat milk?”

“Resentfully.”

“Then yes. I’ll get it for you.” You pour Aegon a cup of red wine and then tilt it against his lips. He slurps the cup dry before his eyes dip closed. You set the empty cup on the bedside table, feel his forehead for fever—longer than you need to—and then rise to leave him. You are almost to the door when you hear him say: “Thank you for changing my mind.”

You turn back to Aegon, puzzled. “About what?”

“About wanting to be dead.” He grins and waves, a weak miniscule motion of his left hand. “Come back soon, angel.”

“I will,” you promise.

And only then does he surrender to blessedly numb unconsciousness, the only place in the world that doesn’t hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

You find Aemond in his own rooms. He is sitting in front of the large circular mirror on his vanity. His hair is long and straight and painstakingly neat, his tunic made of black leather. He is wearing the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Rubies fracture the sunlight and scatter it against the walls; Valyrian steel glints.

Aemond marvels, knowing that you’re here: “It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“I need more rose oil.”

In the mirror’s reflection, his lone blue eye darts to you. “You always ask so politely.”

“I didn’t want to waste your valuable time. I can be more loquacious, if you prefer.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He stands, taking off the crown and placing it—gingerly, with both hands—on his vanity. “I’ll see that you have everything you require.”

“I am eternally appreciative.”

Then he does something that he thinks is amusing, a little joke you share. He grabs for your arm and you yank it away just before his fingers can close around your wrist. This makes him smile; it’s one of the only things that does. “Now follow me,” he orders, striding past you and through the doorway.

You hurry after Aemond, dashing through corridors and archways. You know where he is going; this has happened before. As you ascend a staircase, Alicent is leading Jaehaera and Maelor down to the gardens. She has one tiny hand gripped in each of hers; the hem of her emerald green dress drags on the stone steps. She keeps losing weight. You stop to scoop Maelor up and hug him—he giggles, squeezing at your cheeks as you smack kisses onto his face—and then turn your attention to Jaehaera. She has just learned the rules of curtsying and loves to practice. You bow to her, and then she does the same to you, and while her head is bent low you ruffle her silvery hair until it is in hopeless disarray and Jaehaera is laughing hysterically. Then you kneel down so she can sabotage your hair however she sees fit. She pulls strands out of your sensible low bun until you give up and shake it all loose. Alicent—large dark eyes, demurely veiled auburn hair, somber and suffering—gives you a grave, grateful smile. Aemond has waited at the apex of the stairs for you. When you rejoin him he continues onward to the council chamber.

Inside men are taking their seats and already beginning to quarrel: Criston Cole, Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, Larys Strong, the knights of the Kingsguard. Sir Rickard Thorne pays no attention to you. Aemond once mentioned off-handedly: ‘Sir Rickard, I believe our healer is a distant relation of yours.’ The knight had glanced at you and produced some noncommittal reply, oh, indeed, sure, is that so. You had met before, you realized when you saw his face, years ago, at some event that brought together the houses of the Crownlands, a wedding or a funeral or a feast. He has a hazy recollection of you, but he cannot pin it down; he spent the evening with boisterous young men like your eldest brother Clement, while you had spent it with other noblewomen. Sir Rickard’s mother or sisters could probably identify you as a Celtigar. To Rickard himself, you can masquerade as some unimportant cousin he is ashamed to have forgotten. You assume your usual place in the council chamber: standing in a corner, trying not to be noticed, only there in case specific questions involving Aegon’s medical treatment arise.

“Is he dying?” Otto asks Aemond. “He must be. He has no interest in whores.”

Aemond raises his eyebrow at you. “Actually, I’ve been informed he is improving.”

Maester Orwyle beams at you. Upon your arrival in King’s Landing, he had confirmed to Aemond and Criston what you already knew: that while the Citadel’s guidance several decades ago was indeed pork lard or cow dung to treat burns, now there is a growing consensus that vinegar, honey, and oil for scar tissue are the best available remedies. You nod back. You are natural allies; the Greens’ king is under your joint care. You both have much to lose if he dies.

Now Otto Hightower addresses you. He is a stern, weathered, shrewd man. He reminds you of your father, though far more humorless. “When will he be able to fight again?”

“Fight?” you echo, stunned. “In battle? Months at least, my lord. Perhaps a year.”

“A year!” Otto bellows, then turns his wrath on Criston and Aemond. “I told you, I told you! I urged him to exercise caution, over and over again I warned him of the danger, and while I was penning letters to every possible ally you were pouring poison into his ears, convincing him that I wasn’t doing enough. Now look at him! Look at this goddamn fucking mess!”

“How fares the dragon?” Tyland Lannister says.

“I received a raven from Rook’s Rest today,” Aemond replies. “Sunfyre is eating well and ambulatory.”

“Useless,” Otto hisses. “Can’t fly. Can’t be moved. A waste of the livestock he’s being fed.”

“We may yet find a purpose for him,” Aemond says.

“Two dragons!” Otto explodes. “Can you count them?! We have two dragons capable of combat, and one of them is ridden by a fifteen-year-old. The Blacks still have Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, Tyraxes, and Moondancer. And gods help us if they find someone to ride any of the other unclaimed beasts on Dragonstone. Seasmoke, Vermithor, Silverwing, Grey Ghost, the Cannibal…”

“I hope they try to tame the Cannibal,” Criston mutters. “If we’re lucky, he’ll eat them all.”

“My lord,” Larys Strong says to Otto, clutching his cane; he has a habit of lacing his fingers overtop the handle and resting his chin on them. Larys is a watchful, quiet man who speaks rarely yet with great consequence. He is the Master of Whisperers, he is the Lord of Harrenhal, and aside from that he is an enigma to you. “I hate to be the bearer of unfortunate tidings, however I must speak plainly. I have just obtained reports that the Blacks are pursuing precisely the course of action that you fear. Jacaerys Velaryon is offering land and knighthood to any man who can mount a dragon and join their cause. The realm is littered with Targaryen bastards, I’m certain it is only a matter of time until they find at least a few candidates suited to the task.”

Otto slams his fist down on the table. You startle at the noise; Aemond glances over at you. “No king. No Sunfyre. Dreamfyre in the Dragonpit, who Helaena cannot fly into battle. A fucking disaster.”

“We have Vhagar,” Aemond says confidently.

“She is worth two full-grown dragons,” Otto pitches back. “Not four or five.”

“Daemon is the real threat. If I can eliminate him, the war is over.”

“Daeron should be prepared for combat,” Jasper Wylde says. “He is travelling with Lord Ormund Hightower’s army in the Reach, but he can easily be called back to King’s Landing. He could assist Prince Aemond in his pursuit of Daemon and Caraxes.”

“I don’t need his help,” Aemond replies darkly.

“Then perhaps he could safeguard the city once you’ve gone.”

“We cannot sacrifice military strategy on the altar of personal vendettas,” Criston says. “Dragons are best used on the battlefield against soldiers and castles, not on meandering quests to find one lone enemy, that’s a needle in a haystack, it’s a misallocation of precious resources.”

Aemond counters: “But if I can kill Daemon, nothing else matters—”

“It does matter, Aemond!” Criston roars. “I matter, the armies matter, winning the confidence of the houses you hope to rule matters!”

“How is Corlys Velaryon handling all of this?” Otto asks Larys. “The defeat at Rook’s Rest, the death of his wife?”

Larys answers: “He blames Rhaenyra for the losses. He has taken it badly. It is my understanding that he intended to withdraw his support from the Blacks, and was brought back only by Jacaerys giving him the title of Hand of the Queen. I am under the impression that Corlys may be willing to reconsider his allegiance if the circumstances were right—”

There is a knock at the council chamber door, not a knock but a pounding, not a pounding but a frantic drumming like the marching of soldiers’ boots. Sir Criston Cole unlocks and opens the door. Alicent stands there with her face flushed and shiny with tears. Instantly, Criston is at her side asking what is wrong, one hand resting protectively her shoulder, the other on the hilt of the sword he wears everywhere he goes.

“Come quickly,” Alicent begs you, only you. “Please. It’s Aegon.”

You race with her to Aegon’s bedchamber, hearing the screams long before you reach him. This doesn’t make sense; he shouldn’t be in pain this severe, not yet, not for hours. You are aware that there are footsteps thundering behind you, Aemond and Criston rushing to see if the king really is dying this time. In his bed, Aegon thrashes and moans. He needs to stop moving so violently; he will split his scar tissue like burst seams. Already you can see blooms of crimson appearing on his bandages where the wounds beneath have reopened: his neck, his waist, his ribcage. He is out of his mind. He is destroying himself.

He is shouting for Sunfyre, for Aemond, for Criston. He is back at Rook’s Rest being roasted alive in his own armor. Not dying, then; just having a nightmare. You kneel at his bedside and smooth his hair back, his braid threading through your fingers, and whisper to him that it’s alright, that he’s safe, that he needs to wake up now. Alicent is weeping, both hands covering her mouth. Aemond and Criston are watching you, mesmerized, transfixed.

Aegon’s oceanic eyes fly open, wide and panicked. “Where am I?”

And you smile down at him, your palm cradling his unburned left cheek. “The end of the world.”

He blinks. He remembers. His lips stretch into a grin. “There you are,” he tells you, voice gravelly and low. “I dreamed everyone was gone and you were too.”

“I’m here.”

“You aren’t in a hurry to abandon me for your burly betrothed?”

Cregan Stark must think I’m dead. “No, Aegon.”

“You can’t leave without telling me.”

Everett, Clement, my father, my mother, Piper, Petra, Penelope, they must all think I was burned to ash on the battlefield or murdered and tossed into the sea. “I know. I won’t.”

“You can’t leave,” he says again, a half-awake whimper as he sinks back into unconsciousness. You give him more milk of the poppy, enough to make his sleep deep and black and dreamless.

You reclean and rebandage Aegon’s wounds. It takes hours. Aemond fetches Maester Orwyle to assist you. Criston comforts Alicent, wanting to do and say far more than he can. When it is done, only Alicent remains in the bedchamber with you. She visits Aegon frequently, but she does not know how to speak to him; she always stands there clasping her own hands together, praying and stalling, desperate to show him love and yet incapable of it.

“Thank you for what you’ve done for him,” Alicent says, tears glistening in her umber eyes. “Not just the hours, not just the medicine. For everything that you’ve done.” And she embraces you, and when she does you hold her like she wishes her own daughter could.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night you see it repeating like a chorus of a song in the shadows that crawl across the ceiling: one year ago, stray snowflakes in your hair, stars in a black sky and air like metal.

The Celtigar fortune is older than the Targaryens’ conquering of Westeros, older than the Doom of Valyria. Where did the money come from? Friends of the Celtigars would say distinctively cunning maritime trade; their enemies would say piracy. Perhaps the two are not always so different. Is there any mechanism of accumulating great wealth that does not involve stealing in one form or another, of wringing out some other soul like a wet cloth until every drop of them disappears down your throat? Your ancestors did not tame dragons, but they had a different sort of gift: for every coin, they could find a way to make two or six or ten. Repeat that process for centuries and there are vaults filled to the ceiling with gold coins like pieces of the midday sun.

When Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of the Doom over a decade before it left Valyria a smoldering, fragmented wasteland haunted by demons and plague, only three Valyrian houses heeded the warning. Her own family, the Targaryens, relocated to Dragonstone. The Velaryons, having already long occupied Driftmark, resolved to stay there. And the Celtigars—merchants to some, pirates to others—crossed the Narrow Sea to settled on Claw Isle.

Crispian Celtigar served as Master of Coin to Aegon the Conqueror. Alton Celtigar was his Hand of the King. Edwell Celtigar was chosen to be Hand of the King to Maegor I, and later Master of Coin to Jaehaerys I during his minority. The Celtigars have never been far from the Iron Throne…though perhaps none were ever as close as you are now.

One year ago, your father embarked upon a trade mission to White Harbor. Never a man to squander an opportunity for new business, he added stops in Oldcastle, Cerwyn, and Winterfell, and brought along his four maiden daughters to stoke the desires of Northerner lords. Piper fancied a son of Lord Manderly, Petra caught the attention of a Cerwyn boy. But no offer was advantageous enough for Bartimos Celtigar’s liking; no deal could be struck.

In Winterfell, Lord Cregan Stark was already married. His wife, a childhood friend before she was a bedmate, trudged around the castle heavily pregnant and dragging layer upon layer of furs to guard her against the cold, often biting even in summer. Lord Cregan took little notice of your giggling, gossiping sisters, and even less of you…until his sparring partner broke his arm in the castle courtyard. As the other women fled with nauseated faces back to their needlework, you asked Winterfell’s maester if you could watch how he set the fracture and managed the man’s pain. The maester was delighted—Northerners, as a rule, lack intellectual curiosity—and even allowed you to help bandage the wound once the split bone had been popped back into place. And it was only then, as you knelt there with your forehead creased with determination and blood coating your hands to the knuckles, that Lord Cregan Stark began to see you.

You have a fear of marriage, not a general aversion but a specific and powerful dread. When you were fourteen, you asked your mother if she enjoyed lying with her husband, and you had known as soon as she spoke with a careful sort of reticence—‘I enjoy feeling close to him, I suppose’—that the answer was no. When you were sixteen and your cousin Theodora married into House Bar Emmon, you went with the other noblewomen to inspect her bedsheets the next morning, and were horrified by how they chuckled at the large rust-like stain and recalled their own initiations into sex, this unavoidable rite of passage, this ultimate surrender. At breakfast, the men toasted wine and hooted and sang, while Theodora stared down with glazed eyes at her untouched bacon and duck eggs and said when Piper asked how the night went: ‘He wanted me three times. Is there anything I can do to make him stop?’ And you had thought: Aren’t unions like this supposed to be holy? What the hell do the gods have to do with it? Are they in the sweat, in the bleak resignation, in the linen of the sheets? Do they fill the man with blind lust like an animal’s, do they help hold the woman down?

Your eyes close as you lie in bed in the Red Keep, your room adjoining Aegon’s, and suddenly you are back in Winterfell again. You are making notes as the maester shows you the herbs growing in the Glass Gardens when Cregan finds you. He is tall and broad, made more so by the furs that engulf him like mist drapes the stony cliffs of Claw Isle. His voice is booming, thunderous, cataclysmically formidable. He is used to being listened to. He has never been expected to sit quietly as other men charted out his life like the route of a trade ship: here you will go, here you will be emptied of every scrap of value. He says he will give you a tour of the Library Tower. It is not an invitation; an invitation can be declined.

You walk together through the Godswood—dark water, blackberry bushes, crows squawking, gods you do not believe in—and Cregan tells you fond memories of his childhood. He likes hunting and archery. He spars in the courtyard for hours each day. He never stays still, he never goes quiet. He wants to know where you learned to marvel at the ghastly art of piecing broken bodies back together again. He wants to know why you are so different from other women. And he inquires with great fascination about the legendary treasures of your house, not just gold but rubies, jeweled cups, Myrish carpets and Volantene glass, a horn said to summon krakens from the sea, an axe made of Valyrian steel.

Winterfell’s library is sparse and dusty, cobwebs in shadowy alcoves. Cregan Stark thinks you will not notice. As he slips books about anatomy and herbology off the shelves to show you, you cannot help studying his hands, large and calloused and always stained with black patches of ink or soil or soot. They make yours look tiny and defenseless, skin of silk and bones like glass. You picture him claiming you, owning you, climbing into the marital bed knowing that you cannot refuse anything he asks for. You envision him forcing your thighs apart with those huge filthy hands, leaving smudges like ash. You imagine him tearing his way into a part of you that feels so small, so vulnerable; you imagine the suffocating burden of his interminable weight.

A moment of clarity, in the library beathing dust and Cregan’s scent, a woodsmoke musk, a wolflike wildness: I don’t know this man. I don’t trust this man. I’m glad he’s not free to marry me.

This was before the war began, before Cregan’s wife Arra Norrey died birthing their son Rickon, before Jace Velaryon arrived in Winterfell to forge the Pact of Ice and Fire. And when Cregan agreed to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, and Jace pledged to marry his firstborn daughter to Rickon, the Warden of the North decided there was one last thing he wanted inked into the covenant. He wanted an ally in the South, bottomless wealth, his future children to have Valyrian ancestry. He wanted a woman with vigilant, unflinching eyes and blood on her hands.

He wanted you.

[maidragoste]

can you please make a Harwin Strong x reader where the reader and breakbones fall in love and get married but then the rumors about jace’s heritage start and Harwin admits cheating??? Thank you in advance

Harwin Strong x Velaryon!Reader

note: sorry for taking anon to make your request, and also for not following it completely. I hope you like it 🥰🥰

If you want a part two let me know because I already have ideas 👀

Part 2

reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

"He is Prince Jacaerys Velaryon" announced your good sister proudly handing the baby to the king, you excitedly waited your turn to meet your nephew. The next to take the baby was the queen, you couldn't help but worry when you saw how the smile disappeared from her, you understood that your nephew had been healthy and without any deformity so you didn't understand why your friend's face suddenly seemed so concerned. It even seemed to you that Alicent was hesitating before passing the child to you.

And when you held Jacaerys in your arms, you understood why. All the emotion you felt disappeared the second you saw her brown locks on his little head. Your vision blurred and you began to blink to make any possible tears disappear. You weren't going to cry. You wouldn't make a scene. The existence of this child was humiliation enough. The boy was precious but you couldn't bear to see him anymore so you passed him on to your brother.

"Hopefully the next one looks more like Velaryon," you said with a fake smile and the room suddenly seemed cold. You were pleased to see Rhaenyra and Harwin tense up. "I suppose mother's Baratheon blood is stronger than we thought," you added, looking at Laenor. You also felt betrayed by your brother. You were sure that he also knew about your cousin and husband's affair and he was never able to tell you.

"It could also be Aemma's Arryn blood," Viserys said, and you wanted to laugh when he didn't seem to read the room. Or perhaps he preferred to feign ignorance before punishing his daughter for giving birth to a bastard.

•••••

“Is it yours?” was the first thing you said as soon as you were alone with your husband in their chambers. You didn't need to clarify what you were talking about. Harwin knew you were talking about Jacaerys.

The city guard commander thought through his answer. He didn't want to endanger the princess or his son, but from the look in your eyes he knew that if he lied to you, your reaction would be much worse. It was useless to lie to you because you already knew the truth. You knew it the first moment you saw the little prince.

"Yes," he replied "I'm sorry" He wasn't sorry about the birth of his child but he was sorry for hurting you.

You already knew the answer to your question, you just wanted to see if your husband was brave enough to admit his infidelity. You felt like such an idiot for not having seen it coming sooner…

Lie. You saw it coming only you were in denial and you turned a blind eye. You convinced yourself to believe Harwin's lies when he told you that he wouldn't come back to your chambers because he was on night watch even though you knew he couldn't have so many shifts in a row. You pretended not to hear the servants talk about the closeness between the commander of the city guard and Princess Rhaenyra. You ignored Larys and Alicent's concerns about those rumors. You ignored every red flag because you refused to believe it was true.

You had fallen in love with Harwin because he was a good man, he was attentive and loving and he made you laugh. In your head Harwin couldn't be hurting you and deceiving you in front of the whole court, your Harwin would never do that. Not the sweet man who had taken it upon himself to learn your family traditions for your wedding, not the man who whispered sweet words to you in the morning, not the man who looks like a happy puppy every time he sees you, not the man who From time to time he would bring you gifts after his patrols because according to him that bracelet or that ring reminded him of you… Not even when the princess got pregnant, he never made all those gestures or went to your bed. If he won't love you then he should have stopped doing all of that, unless he was only doing it to keep looking like a loving husband in your eyes.

"You love her?" You crossed your arms in an attempt to put on armor, you didn't want to show him how much his betrayal affected you.

You knew Harwin well and you knew he wouldn't cheat on you just for a one-night stand or just for passion. He wouldn't spoil his marriage just on the whim of the moment.

Harwin's eyes looked at you with deep sadness. He didn't want to hurt you even more but you deserved to know the truth "I love her" he admitted "I love both"

He wasn't lying. He still loved you, he could never stop loving the lovely girl he met as he helped her climb a tree to avoid a suitor. But her heart now also belonged to the princess, it had not been her intention to fall in love with her. After saving her from the incident of her wedding, he couldn't help but worry about her and he took notice of her as he seemed to have no one at court. He became close to a friend, he began to get to know what Rhaenyra was really like and he was captivated.

"Go to hell" you dug your nails into your arms, holding yourself back from punching him in the face "Now do you want to be like Aegon the Conqueror? Do you want to have two wives?" You sneered "From now on you will spend one night with me and ten with her?" you snorted.

Harwin took one of your hands and held it pressed over her heart so you could feel her heartbeat "I really love you both."

"It doesn't matter, because you already lost me" you let go of her grip and your husband looked at you with pain. At another time you would have felt sorry for him but now all you felt was pure resentment. "Please, go back to your princess and leave me alone"

tag: @paolexsstuff @thefandomimagines @little-duck @jasminecosmic99 @green-lxght @hellmorozova @niki-is-a-thing

@lilithskywalker @zealousturtletaco @asiandongbongsoo @blogg-100 @mysticdaisy21 @spacebabyluna

If you want to be part of my taglist

[eoieopda]

I am here to request some silly, sweet Channie fluff 🥺🥺 as mild or spicy as you want, idm, just want some deep comfort feat. my favourite fun-sized snack 🥰🥰

the one with chan and the promotion

pairing: bang chan x gn!reader type: drabble genre: fluff, hurt/comfort au: fuck buddies to ?, pining rating: 18+ wc: 2.2k (don’t look at me) summary: you need a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happens to be free. | part two (4/20/24) cw: chan’s pov, no smut but it’s referenced, reader has outpatient dental surgery (not depicted), reference to blood/swelling, reader is doped the hell up. 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

You’re drifting off in some twilight on the other side of a closed door, but Chan’s the one that’s stupefied.

Mechanically speaking, he knows how he got himself into this position: drove here in his car, parked in the lot outside, walked into the front door. His ass is in this very seat because he dropped himself there, and he hasn’t moved in the two hours that have passed since.

None of that explains why he’s in his current position, though — why you reached out to him, of all people, to come with you to something like this.

Why he’s more giddy over that choice than confused by it, even if it turns out that he was your last resort.

He’s lost in thought when your oral surgeon’s head peeks out through the doorway to the recovery room. She asks if he’s “the boyfriend”, and he has no idea how to explain that he’s more of a “semi-consistent fuck buddy”, so he simply says “yes” before allowing her to usher him into the room.

You’re slumped in a reclining chair when Chan walks in, heavy eyelids fluttering as you try hard to fight off sleep. Better still, the gauze in your mouth makes your chipmunk cheeks stick out while your still-numb lips fumble with words. The urge to reach for his phone and snap a picture makes his fingers twitch, but he doesn’t; you’d absolutely murder him if he tried.

“Mmfph?” You grunt when your narrowed eyes manage to clock him standing there.

He grins automatically, fingers reaching up to tip a hat he isn’t wearing. “Mmfph to you, too.”

Whatever drugs they gave you to knock you on your ass aren’t strong enough to overcome your personality; you roll your eyes much more easily than you keep them fully open. That trademark sass must’ve taken a lot out of you, though. You doze off again before he can blink, slumping further in your chair with your head lolled uncomfortably to the side.

Your neck is going to hurt later, he thinks with a frown. 

“Once they get their sea legs back, you should be okay to go.”

Chan jumps when the surgeon pipes up, having completely forgotten anyone else was in the room.

She clears her throat sheepishly, clearly aware that she’s interrupting something. Breezing right past that awkwardness, she pulls a prescription pad from her coat pocket. The top page is promptly ripped off and passed to him with a stern look. 

She warns, “Make sure they don’t take this medication on an empty stomach.”

Damn — only two hours in, and he’s already being promoted from chauffeur to caretaker? It should embarrass him that this fact tickles him thoroughly pink, but it doesn’t. Inwardly, he high-fives himself.

Nice one, Chan!

“Soup is best,” the surgeon continues, once again pulling him out of his own head. There’s a pause before she remembers the kicker; she waves her hand urgently when she finally does. “Nothing spicy, though.”

He nods in understanding, and just like that, she pats his shoulder and disappears out the door. Unsure what else to do, Chan takes a seat on the small stool next to your chair and waits.

And wait, and waits, and waits.

Jesus. What did they give you — a horse tranquilizer?

When your eyes open the second time, they find him immediately. They’re still a bit glassy, but they’re much more alert. Bright, even, which is a bit of a wonder, given the circumstances. Right away, he can tell that the space cadet has — sort of — returned to Earth.

“Can —?” You gesture to your mouth, which struggles to frown around the gauze. 

Uselessly, you flick out your tongue in an attempt to wet your lips. They're dry from all the time you must’ve spent with your mouth open, and his fingers twitch again when he pictures the chapstick in his pocket.

You distract him with what he assumes are words, prompting him to shift his gaze from your mouth to your eyes.

Everything that comes next is garbled, totally incoherent, but he gets the gist. With a quick glance at his watch, he confirms that it’s been thirty minutes since he started watching you sleep, and that feels like enough time. 

Right?

So, he shrugs permissively; you perk up the second you’re given the green light. Bravely, you only whine a little bit when you lay eyes on the slightly bloody, thoroughly spit-soaked material as you pull it away from your gums. 

Chan can’t tell if you’re trying to pout when you hold that mess out to him and stare expectantly, but the intent doesn’t matter much in the long run; the effect is the same. He takes your drooled-on trash without a second thought.

Squinting as he concentrates, he fires it off towards the bin in the corner like he’s trying to beat a buzzer. The pair of you watch as it ricochets off the wall, then drops perfectly in the basket below.

Immediately, he turns back to you with wiggling eyebrows and a smirk. “Bank shot,” he brags.

You ignore the true purpose of his raised hand — a well-deserved high-five — and instead latch onto it.  Gripping tightly as if your life depends on it, you drag yourself up and out of your chair. 

Before you can throw yourself entirely off balance, Chan swoops in to tuck you under his arm. You’re independent to a fault, however; and you glare up at him exactly like he guessed you would. Apologetic, he keeps his distance with his hands raised.

Go for it, then.

All it takes for you to accept defeat is a few wobbly steps toward the door and some curse words muttered under your breath, for zest. You give in faster than you want to and dive into his side with a long-suffering groan. You’re not looking, so he doesn't bother to hide the triumphant smirk that spreads when your arms wrap around his waist.

The walk back to his car takes a lot more effort than he initially expected. Though you cling to him like you’ll float off without him, you insist on attempting to wander in every direction except the one you need to head in. To the best of his ability, Chan steers you across the pavement; you babble through every stumbled step.

“I’m going to open your door now, okay?” He coos once you finally reach his car.

It surprises him slightly — the softness he’s exuding, and how much like a reflex it feels — but he doesn’t dwell on it. He’s got a far more difficult puzzle to solve: getting your wriggling body into his car.

After a few unsuccessful tries, you finally let him usher you out of the way of the door. You spill into his passenger seat like you’re more jelly than bones, knocking your skull against the doorframe as you go.

Jesus Christ.

Eyes wide, Chan ducks down to run his fingers gingerly over what will likely be a goose egg tomorrow. Nervously, he chuckles, “That — uhh — that was quite the entrance. You okay?”

Tilting your chin just so, you push your cheek into his palm and blink up at him slowly like you’ve already forgotten the question. Suddenly, so has he. Several moments whizz by just like that — with his arm raised uncomfortably and your heavy head resting against his hand.

Never in his life has he wanted to kiss a forehead as badly as he does yours. It’s like you’ve got a magnet where your orbital bone should be, and it’s a bit shocking. Whatever magic you’ve got — some sort of tractor beam in your eyes, perhaps — pulls, pulls, pulls, but he stops himself.

That’s not what this is, he reminds himself as he backs away and shuts your door carefully in his place. That’s not who I am to you.

In this moment, Chan is your taxi driver, carting you off to the apartment he’s been in a hundred times — but never once in the daytime.

As he goes, it becomes a little clearer with every kilometer: the sun can’t be beating down overhead because he feels it next to him, warming his arm through his jacket; blinding him whenever his gaze drifts over to the passenger side.

“Chan,” you pout out of nowhere.

Again, your head droops fast and bumps his shoulder. You don’t react to this second knock, but he does, sucking air in through his teeth.

“Need to get you a helmet,” he mutters with a sheepish laugh. “You’re gonna give yourself a concussion at this rate.”

“Don’t need a helmet,” you argue. “I need pork belly, bad. Stop, please?”

Glancing quickly down at you, Chan bites back a smile. You look so adorably pitiful with your hazy eyes blinking one at a time, lips all puffy to match your cheeks. It takes all he’s got to tear his eyes off you and put them back on the road ahead.

He sighs, genuinely sorry. “No can do, champ.”

You repeat the nickname, pop the last letter, and make yourself laugh so hard that you hiccup.

“Your options currently are soup or… well, soup.” He tries to sound firm, but if you pout at him a second time, Chan might throw your dentist’s warning right out the window. “Think it over while I stop at the pharmacy, yeah?”

In the quiet that follows, he swears he can hear the gears turning in your head. He doubts it has anything to do with what he just told you, but he doesn’t mind. Come to think of it, he doesn’t mind any of what this day has turned out to be so far. That doesn’t necessarily surprise him, either.

With the way things currently are between you, you don’t feature much in his everyday life; only weekends and the occasional weeknight. It works well, this thing you’ve got going. He enjoys what you do — that head game of yours is otherworldly — but judging by the glimpses he’s seen so far, he likes who you are, too.

Despite not knowing you on some deeper level, shit like this — being around you for some profoundly asexual purpose — feels natural. Like he could do it more often; be a little more than just a recurring character. If you let him, that is.

Would you let him?

That question rattles around his brain when he pulls up to the pharmacy and dashes inside, too wary to leave you alone for long but wholly unprepared to guide you through a shop in your current state. He’s still thinking about it when he jogs back to his car with your prescription in hand.

That bag is nearly dropped to the pavement below when he sees you, however; and he can’t remember what he was thinking about before because you’re weeping now. In a flash, Chan throws himself into his seat and jerks the door shut behind him, metal groaning in the process. 

“What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t mean to sound so forceful, but he can feel his pulse in his ears. On instinct, he reaches out and places gentle hands on your temples. Eyes scanning for any sign of injury, he tries to bury his urgency in a soothing voice. “Hey — talk to me. Are you okay?”

You blink up at him with wide, wet eyes. Oh, fuck, you’re breaking my heart. His stomach drops at the sight of your lower lip trembling, but then you whimper:

“What if worms don’t have best friends?”

And Chan needs a minute because he can’t believe you’re real, that you’re borderline bereft over worms, or that he’s this fucking enamored.

Before he knows it, he starts giggling so hard that his eyes start to swim. Thankfully, it’s with mirth and not utter devastation like yours. Pinching his bottom lip between his teeth, he wipes a tear off your cheek with the side of his thumb. Just as gently, he tries his best to reassure you, “I’m sure they do.”

“You’re sure?” You repeat with a sniffle. Chan nods; he’s never been more so.

Successfully placated, you fall into thoughtful silence next to him. It doesn’t last long, though. Abruptly, you and your goldfish memory change course: “Can we get pork belly?”

Something in him wants to give you the world in this moment — the moon on a string, or whatever — but he shakes his head, unwilling to budge. But then your face falls, and he blurts out, “When you’re better, I’ll take you out for some.”

And he means it.

You peep, “Maybe next week.”

Chan laughs while he puts the key in the ignition and turns it. Maybe, he thinks, if you remember having this conversation. As the engine roars back to life, a new thought bubbles to the surface in his mind:

Maybe you will remember.

If you do — and if he’s brave enough then — maybe he’ll confess that he’s a liar. He might own up to the fact that, when you called to ask for his help, he didn’t already have the day off like he claimed to; or that the sick time he rushed to claim in the aftermath wasn’t attributable to his health at all. 

Maybe he’ll admit that he doesn’t care how many people you asked before you turned to him because you ultimately did.

Just maybe.

As he backs out of his parking space, Chan casts another glance your way. It takes all the effort in the world for you to do it, but you smile at him with your whole damn face. 

That settles it, then.

He nods once — firmly — and corrects you, “Definitely next week.”

Part two.

[nisuna]

I wonder what about mad / jealous bff yuji who have the beggest crush on reader i just need angry six w him idk why

I'm living my best life right now 🥰🤤

Thank you for your take!!<3

<3masterlist<3

~short drabble~

TW: rough sex, yuji is crazy strong, wall sex, jealous yuji, angy sex, slut calling, manhandling, but really sweet in the end

"You can't go home with him." he deadpanned

"Huh? Who do you think you are, my boyfriend?? Well you aren't so you have no say in this!"

"What if I wanted to be!" he screamed back

"What?", you scoffed.

"You heard me and I'm not asking you because you're being such a slut in front of me right now. Somebody ought to put you back in your place. You know damn well that I can fuck you better than he ever could!"

"Uhm.."

"Oh shut it!!" you both growled at the guy next to you making him leave quickly.

"Oh yeah? Then give me all you got big boy!, you challenged and he did indeed give you all he got.

He's got you in prone bone, smushing your face into the pillows below you.

"I have to fuck the slut out of you"

"Yeah well keep trying then," you lied. Yuji was way stronger than he looked. Under all of those loose clothes was a big buff man, who was nothing like the best friend you remembered. You tried hard not to salivate and moan as he pulled his shirt over his head after shoving you down on the bed.

While getting your guts rearranged you just didn't want to admit that this was the best fuck of your life and it got on Yuji's nerves.

"Enough, I've had it with you." his relentless hips came to a halt as he pulled out of you.

"What do you mean-"

"Shut it and stand up. Back against the wall."

You cussed under your breath as you obeyed. "Don't try anything funny I'm not in the mood." You let out a high pitched shriek after you felt him lift you up by the ass hooking your legs behind his back. You were desperately holding onto his shoulders in his surprisingly steady grip.

"You always talk about being manhandled by big strong men. Let's see if you can really handle one."

You were at a loss of words as he sank you down on his cock, the new angle hitting much deeper. Your resolve crumbled a bit as you moaned out his name right in his ear.

"That's better."

And as soon as he started moving you up and down against the wall you lost all of your self respect.

"Yuuujii~ wait slow down I can't-"

"Oh sure you can look at you sucking me in you just don't wanna let me go. I got you baby." his voice softened, making you relax in his hold as mewls and whimpers left your needy mouth. To save you some embarasent you began biting down on his shoulder to muffe the sounds you were making. Much to your dismay that didn't help you very much as it only spurred him on to fuck you even harder.

You were getting dizzy chanting his name as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. "'M sorry Yuji I didn't mean to make you mad. I've been good right can I please cum."

"Play with your clit and cum on my cock. Let yourself go baby." he grunted between thrusts. Thank yous spilled out your mouth as you maneuvered your hand from his shoulder to your throbbing clit.

You were rubbing it in sync with his thrusts, getting goosebumps as Yuji kept hitting your spongy spot inside. "'M close.. please don't stop", you whined slightly scratching his back.

"Don't worry, I wont. I got you, make a mess of me.", and you swear you never came as hard as right now, pressing your lips against his greedy mouth trying to muffle your pathetic moans. And he ate it all up, his rhythm getting sloppy as he felt himself getting close from you clenching around him.

He broke away from the kiss momentarilly to whisper against your lips. "'M gonna fill you up, make you nice and plump." And with that he slammed his lips against yours, really giving you his all.

He was gentle when he lifted you off his cock and tried to set you down. And he was there to catch you when your legs gave out, hugging you tightly and whispering into the crook of your neck.

"Sooo..can I be your boyfriend now?"

"Maybe."

"Aw cmon!!!!"

"I'm kidding I'm kidding! Sure," you giggled pressing your lips against his grin.

-----

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

[theold-ultraviolence]

So now that we’ve seen modern dad aemond, could we please also see canon dad aemond? 🥰 (also maybe how/if he would react differently to a son vs a daughter, if you think he would) tia!

We most certainly can, friend! thank you for asking! Like I've said, dad!Aemond is something I enjoy reading a lot but never thought to venture into it myself. Here goes!

Dad!Aemond headcanons

Ever the dutiful son, the prospect of extending the bloodline was a certainty in Aemond's mind.

But he rarely thought about it, always considering it a distant event. He never thought of himself as a parent or imagined how he'd be. He didn't have the greatest examples after all. And because he thought he'd be betrothed to someone he didn't love, he was less than enthused about children.

But he married you.

He married you and now his whole world changed.

The first year, he was content with being alone with you. He wanted to bask in your presence, to thoroughly enjoy yourselves before adding another person into the mix.

But as soon as that last year was through, whenever he bedded you, some primal feeling began to seep inside his mind each time he made the conscious decision to cumming inside of you instead of pulling out like he'd been doing before.

It was all fun and games but when the Maesters told you you were with child, it all became so real. And he began to worry.

Could he be a good father? a loving one? or would he damn his child to a fate similar to his own? He bowed to be better than Viserys, but of course, it was all easier said than done. Especially when your pregnancy had been so difficult.

He worried constantly about you; it seemed the pregnancy had brought more anguish to you than joy. You were constantly in pain, and the delivery was complicated. He thought he was going to lose you, so he bowed that you would only have one child. He couldn't put you through this pain again, couldn't risk losing you.

Then finally, she came into the world.

Time stopped, the moment the baby was cleaned up and wrapped in a fine cloth, then placed into his arms. His heart had never beat this quickly, and he'd never known a tenderness like this.

She was the tiniest little being he'd ever seen in his life, the tiniest thing he'd ever had in his arms. What he felt was a rush of anxiety but also an overwhelming amount of love.

Elaena Targaryen was born, to a man that had suddenly become the most loyal, protective, and loving parent in the whole realm.

Because you'd suffered so much pain during childbirth, he had no problem with letting you heal and relax and preoccupy himself with the baby's care. He wanted to do everything himself, not trusting the Maesters or handmaids with anything whatsoever.

Sometimes he's a little too overprotective, and you have to calm him down and talk some sense into him. Assure him that nothing would ever harm Elaena when both of you are around, but that he needs to let her explore and discover the world on her own sometimes, otherwise she'll grow to resent him.

Still, when she's playing in the gardens, he keeps a watchful eye over her.

Elaena takes after her father in many ways. She's well-behaved and mostly calm, but she's adventurous like you. She's also very loving, and loves to be in her parent's embrace at all times.

Though she has most of Aemond's physical features, all her mannerisms and quirks are yours. During the first two years of her life, he was endlessly amazed at learning more and more about her, to see her personality develop and mirror that of her mother. As if Aemond didn't love her enough already.

When Elaena is two years old, something unexpected happens.

You find out you're with child again. An accident this time, but certainly a welcomed one.

This pregnancy leaves you even weaker than the last. You're convinced, at some point during labor, that you're not gonna make it. But by gods, you push through, if only thanks to Aemond's strong will, holding on to your hand the entire time and begging you to stay with him.

Finally, with fierce cries, Aeron Targaryen is born.

And Aemond is just, speechless. He was so used to being the father of a girl, that the prospect of raising a boy suddenly made him mad with glee. He was instantly curious about the personality of his boy, if he was going to be as calm as he himself had been, or if he was going to be mischievous like Aegon, brave like Daeron. Would he connect with son, as easily as he had with his daughter?

He didn't much time to think about it on the spot because suddenly, the Maesters were urging you to push! Again?

And in came his third child, Vaella.

Twins!

As he held both children in each of his arms, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He thanked the Gods for this wonderful gift and thanked you for blessing him with three loving children. For giving him all the love he always yearned for, and that he thought he'd never get.

He never knew love could just, keep on growing like this. He was afraid of taking something from Elaena and making her feel left out, but it wasn't the case at all.

Elaena, even for her young age, was excited and very caring to her siblings.

Aemond used to think that happiness could only be found on dragonback, or in the solitude of the library.

But now he knows that happiness is a lazy morning in bed, surrounded by his wife and his three children, who want their father to tell them stories while holding them close. In their eyes, Aemond is the greatest man in existence. Period.

Happiness is a sunny day out by the shores that surround the Red Keep, with the sound of his children's laughter mixing in with the splashing of ocean waves.

It's when he watches Elaena on her first ride with Vaghar, and even better when she rides her own dragon.

When Aeron beats him during a sword match when he’s still a preteen, and then, when he beats everyone that defies him in tourneys by the time he’s a young adult.

And when Vaella fills his desk with drawings, as the calmer and quieter of the two children. When her two siblings yearn to go on adventures and see the world, Vaella wants nothing more than to stay home with her father. Taking walks with him through the gardens or roaming around the city, hidden with cloaks.

Aemond thinks he used to know pride, after riding the largest dragon in the world, being well versed in history and philosophy, and being the most agile swordsman in the realm.

But pride is when he stands during a family gathering, with Elaena by his right; a far graceful dragon rider than he. Strong and protective of her parents and younger siblings. Shooting death glares to anyone who dared looked at Aemond wrong.

Aeron to his left; intelligent and brave, more cunning than Aemond ever hoped to be, able to outwit whoever doubted him, and get back at those who spoke ill of his father with polite yet deathly responses. Though he was kind and had a strong bond with his mother. Just like Aemond and Alicent.

And young Vaella, forever holding onto Aemond’s hand, the most attached to her father out of the three. The most creative and calm spirit Aemond had ever known. She brought peace into his household when Elaena or Aeron’s temper got a hold of themselves. She’s Aemond’s eternal companion during the night, both cuddling against one another while reading a book.

[sashiavi]

this is my second time in your inbox today but i have to make it up for the time i neglected you pookie hehe

I just had a sudden thought about wrio- like😳😳😳😳 and I'm here to share it

imagine wrio tugging at his tie to allow some air on his neck with one hand as he looks at you after you provoked him, a smirk growing on his lips. I'm talking about tendons flexing so good like ajdhsjdhja I want those hands on and in me and I don't really care where 😋😋

I live for the headcanon of big beefy wrio so I'd like to suck on those mantitties for the rest of my life please and thank you. and just imagine the thickness of his shoulders and arms and legs AND OH GOD THE THIGHS IM BASICALLY DROOLING I want him to suffocate me with them while I give him that gawk gawk 3000🥰

and don't get me started on wrio with a stubble because I could go on for hours. I know that feels amazing as he gives head ajdhshdgjahdk like no babe you aren't going anywhere I only came 3 times- (he would be the one to refuse to move before 5 orgasms its canon i asked it to hoyo and joe zieja and they both confirmed)

I'm down bad. I don't even want kids but if this man came to me and says that he wants 6 I'd throw myself on the bed clothes gone legs spread pussy ready for that massive cock and I'm not even sorry

okay i feel like this is enough- bye bye pookie😚

Ughhhh pookie bearrrrr you're speaking my language </33

I am a firm believer of thickkk Wrio - I too wanna suck on his tiddies so bad oh my godd

Riding on his thick thigh? With his hands all over you- and the hANDS you're so correct his hands would be so hot

Ughhh big beefy Wrio with a little bit of a soft belly and a thick happy trail leading down disappearing into his pants 😩💕 that "clearly goes to the gym and works hArd and is sooooo strong but he eats well and looks after himself" </333 soooo good to cuddle :((

Just imagining his stamina too- and he's so givingggg ugh I can't even

The fear of pregnancy is g o n e with this man I'd let him do whatever he wanted you can put that on record babe

[moraxsthrone]

Keeeel I have brainrot ;w;

Just... Zhongli taking care of his little mate after fucking you so good/hard/much that you can't really move much, legs weak, body sore. Him massaging your muscles whispering sweet nothings and nuzzling you, carrying you to the bath and pampering you and you whine a little still sensitive 🥺💕

It's extra asdfchbklj bc you're an adventurer who fights monsters in the regular, go exploring and climbing and sure your body gets a little pushed to the limits once in a while but he, heeeee, Zhongli is the only one who manages to tire you out like this. Drooling and sweating and panting in pure blissful pleasure, legs twitching in the aftershocks of a few too many rounds crying out his name. And he's so proud of himself for being able to leave you like this, sweet and pliant in hazy pleasure (and proud of you too for being so good to him!) his inner dragon purrrs happily against your skin leaving soft kisses.

AFKSFCGVJBJNKL /w\ omggggggg

Just Zhongli fucking you stupid and then providing the sweetest most tender aftercare 😩🥴🥰💕💕💕

crys, my dear, thank you for leaving this precious gem in my ask box. 💛🧡🤎🖤 i saw it this morning and could NOT stop thinking about it all day and THE SECOND i logged off from work i made a MAD DASH to my pc and started typing FURIOUSLY. i needed this so bad! 😩😮‍💨

I AM HERE FOR THE ZHONGLI BRAINROT!!

be warned: nsfw. mdni. x f!reader. rough sex. hair pulling. please let me know if i missed anything, i have a meeting in 8 mins and i'm trying to get this out beforehand bc we've waited long enough.

but also: zhongli provides impeccable aftercare, breathe if you agree

wc: 500+

okay so let's get one thing out of the way: zhongli knows How To Fuck™️

the archon has you on your belly, your thighs pressed together as he straddles them and rides you like a lazy horse. his beautiful cock is coated with your creamy need; he loves to spread your asscheeks apart and watch your swollen hole stretch around his girthy cock. the striations of your slick spread the length of his shaft as his hips slap your ass so hard the wet, rhythmic smacks echo off your bedroom walls.

he’s got your hair wrapped around his glowing fist and you can hear the occasional grunt or deep, aggressive growl coming from behind you as he fucks you harder. you’re panting, crying, whimpering his name; from the corner of your watery eyes you see his arm that’s planted on the mattress next you, sinewy muscles flexing and rippling under his dark, gradient skin. he’s already fucked multiple orgasms out of you and now,

it’s his turn.

zhongli leans forward, hunching over you, his rock hard abs, sticky with sweat, pressing against your back. his pelvis is snapping on sheer instinct, faster now, forcing his engorged cock deeper into your womb where, with one final thrust of his hips, his seed floods your cervix in thick, white spurts. his orgasm is so powerful he can hardly contain his dracontine nature as he fills you with his musk, head thrown back as a guttural roar erupts from his throat.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

your lover's postcoital disposition is in stark contrast to his mating style. your naked, sweaty bodies are pressed together, some of his thick seed dribbling out and coating your still-trembling thighs as he holds you close. with your head tucked neatly under his chin, you're soothed by the steady beat of his heart, grounded by the depth and subtlety of his voice against your ear as he quietly praises and reassures you.

"you are safe, my love," he says, lazily tracing his name on your back with warm fingers. "you did wonderfully, darling. you always do. you are the most precious thing to me. you are beautiful, intelligent, strong, and one of very few people who laugh at my jokes." your soft chuckle fills his heart with warm love because he knows you're okay and that you are with him.

when you're ready, you look up at him and he smooths your hair away from your lovely face so he can get a better look at you. his tired eyes are hooded, darker now that they're not glowing as fiercely.

"what can i do, love? can i get you some water, something to eat? would you like me to fetch the duvet off the floor and wrap you up in it?"

you smile and shake your head no, verbalizing just long enough to say, "just...need to stay close to you, zhong. please just hold me and talk to me?"

"of course, my love," he hums, "whatever you need." he lays his head down next to yours and murmurs sweet, loving everythings into your ear as he nuzzles your hair. you can feel the low timbre of his voice in every fiber of your being, comforting you, and you know that you are safe. you know that you are loved.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

[ddejavvu]

bau fam does an amusement park day with all the kiddos and aaron is all heart eyes at reader being so good with jack🥰 just fluff central

"Off the railing." Aaron commands his son, his massive hand pressing against Jacks's chest and tugging the boy back into his side, "You're gonna fall and crack your head open, bud."

"Am not," Jack is ever-defiant, the dark muscles etched into the superhero shirt he's wearing being the only reason he thinks he's strong enough to catch himself if he slips, "I'm too strong to fall."

Jack races ahead in line to where Spencer is talking your ear off about rollercoasters and their various safety hazards, tugging at your shirt sleeve.

"Miss Y/N," Jack interrupts Spencer, but the man is used to it enough not to scold him, and merely raises an eyebrow along with you.

"What's up, Jack?" You don't comment on his hands, sticky with cotton candy, that are staining your shirt.

"Daddy says I'm not strong." He huffs, and you're surprised he doesn't stomp his foot to light up his sneakers, "I'm strong, aren't I?"

"I did not say you're not strong," Aaron sighs, apparently used to this method of tattling, "I asked you not to climb on things that aren't supposed to be climbed on."

"He said I'd fall," Jack points accusatorily at his dad, the man's defeated expression almost making you giggle, "Isn't that mean?"

"No," You come to Aaron's defense, crouching down in line beside Jack, "Because he's right. My cousin fell off of there, once." You recall, flashes of the boy's stitched head whirring through your mind, "He cracked his head open."

"Told you," Aaron ruffles his son's hair, having snuck through Emily and Penelope in the line to stand beside you, "You won't get to ride The Hurricane if we have to take you to the emergency room."

You can tell by the look on Jack's face that he's not amused, nor is he going to stop climbing on the railings around you. So you think quick, leaning in to stage whisper to the boy.

"Jack," You nudge him with your elbow, gaining his attention, "You know what you can climb?"

"What?" Jack looks at you with stars in his eyes, little seven-year-old brain finding nothing more appealing.

"Uncle Derek." You point at the unsuspecting man standing a few feet away from you, lost in conversation with JJ, "He's like a jungle gym. He'll catch you, too, if somehow these fail."

You poke at his belly, the outline of muscles warping and bending under your finger. He jolts, giggling and shoving your finger away, "Okay! Okay, I'll be back."

You watch him skip off towards Derek, and Aaron's curiosity is piqued as well. You stand, now leaning against the same railing Aaron is as Jack grabs Derek's hand. Before the man can process anything Jack's sneakered-feet are scaling his leg, and he shouts in indignance.

Your giggle is far more vivacious than Aaron's chuckle, but you're used to being the bubbly one. He looks appreciatively at you, entrusting that Derek won't let his child plummet to the concrete ground, "Thanks for redirecting him."

"Of course," You try brushing some of the candy floss off of your shirt, to no avail, "I wouldn't get to ride The Hurricane if he went to the E.R either, so really it was more for me than anyone else."

Another one of Aaron's chuckles is your response, and you feel pride, warm and cozy, swell in your chest. The line moves ahead of you and you stride forwards, falling into step with the man beside you, "Does he usually climb on stuff like that?"

"All the time," Aaron sighs, recalling the broken bookshelf he'd repaired not days before for that exact reason, "One time I found him on top of the refrigerator, and for the life of me I can't figure out how he got there."

"Oh!" You slap a hand over your mouth to contain the raucous laughter that tries escaping, "I swear he's not like that when he comes over to my apartment."

"I'm glad," Aaron can't imagine what he'd do if he found out his son had been wreaking havoc for you, "I think maybe we just need to move in with you and he'll always be on his best behavior."

"Oh, perfect!" You play along, nodding thoughtfully, "Jack can sleep in the little closet down the hallway, we'll make it up into a bed for him."

"I'll miss him when he goes off to magic school," Aaron sighs wistfully, "But I suppose it's what's best for him."

Before you can comment on Aaron's surprising knowledge of the Harry Potter series, Jack's hand is once more tugging at your shirt, "Who's going to magic school?"

"No one," Aaron laughs, the sound coming as a quiet huff through his nose, "We're just sticking you in a hall closet."

"No fair!" Jack is running back to Derek in no time, leaving you and Aaron to watch as he catapults into the man's arms, "Uncle Derek, Daddy and Miss Y/N are going to stuff me in the closet!"

[rosemary-morgan]

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Arthur is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Warning: 18+!! smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, fingering, spanking, oral sex (f and m receiving), cum play, language

Hello, my pretty and wonderful little bees out there 🧡🐝 I have some filth for you. And… oh boy, it's just pure filth. I think this is by far the naughtiest thing I have written so far (❁´◡`❁)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🥰 The summary was her idea

Summary: You and Arthur take a little time out to enjoy your love to the fullest. And in Saint Denis, a very special gift awaits Arthur - a special something that you know he will love

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader - A sweet surprise (18+)

You are both laughing as you arrive back at your hotel room. The night in Saint Denis had been wonderful and you hadn't had such a good time in a long time. Going to the theater tonight had been a great idea of Arthur's and you had enjoyed every minute of it. 

The door closes behind you and at that moment Arthur hugs you from behind and you sigh contentedly, closing your eyes and leaning against his strong chest.

"Thank you, for this wonderful evening, Arthur," you whisper,chuckling softly as he kisses the small spot behind your ear.

His lips move tenderly over your skin, kissing your neck sensually, for Arthur knew exactly how sensitive you were in that spot. Instantly you moan softly, biting your lower lip and enjoying how tender he is. His strong hands slowly slide over your hips, stroking the beautiful dark green dress that you're wearing.

"You look lovely tonight, Y/N..."

Playfully he bites your earlobe and you can hear him laughing softly in the next moment, deeply arousing you. His deep voice had an immediate effect on your body and you felt it instantly. You could already feel a tingle between your pretty thighs and this feeling was strengthened even more when his hands grip your breasts and squeeze them with pleasure.

"Arthur..."

"Mmm... you smell so good, Y/N..."

Gasping softly, he says this as his lips glide over your neck. His right hand slid from your chest down to your thigh and he slowly gathered up the long skirt of your dress so he could touch your tender skin that was hiding underneath. Oh, Arthur already saw himself lying between your pretty legs. 

"Arthur, my love, I have a surprise for you," you whisper as Arthur continues to kiss you unflinchingly, making you moan as he kisses just the right spot on your shoulder.

You smile, pulling away from his tender kisses for the moment. Questioning, but with a teasing smile, Arthur looks at you as he takes your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. His look was full of love and full of desire.

"A surprise?"

"Yes. But you'll have to wait a little longer."

Without objection, Arthur let you lead him to the divan, where you made him sit on it.

"You stay here for a moment and I'll be right back, darling."

A seductive glance from you was enough to make Arthur submissive. He took a deep, excited breath as he watched you disappear behind the divider. Arthur could only hear you opening the drawer and that made him very curious indeed. 

Little by little, you threw your clothes over the partition and Arthur became more and more nervous, more and more impatient, because every time a piece of clothing fell off your body, more skin was revealed. Arthur licked his lips at the thought, because he wanted to touch you, kiss you, taste your body.

"Babygirl? What are you doing?"

"I'm getting undressed," you said, giggling softly, because you could already tell by his voice that he was impatient. "Arthur, don't you dare look!"

"Alright, alright. I'm a good boy."

You couldn't resist teasing him, so you stuck your bare leg out of the partition and gave him a little taste.

Arthur grinned in amusement. He knew you were playful and he loved that. He also loved being teased by you and you loved it when he showed you where your place was... afterward.

It took you another moment to pull your last piece of clothing over your body. You were a little excited to present yourself right away in your new lingerie, because this one was really daring. And the way Arthur reacted the moment you came out from behind the partition, your surprise served its purpose.

Arthur's eyes grew wide, his lips were slightly parted as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

"Surprise, surprise, my love."

"Sweet Jesus..."

You wore a black corset, which ended under your breasts and showed them off beautifully. In addition, you wore long, black silk stockings, which were attached to the corset with suspenders. But what finally made Arthur go crazy was the fact that you were not wearing any panties. Your most intimate part was out in the open, but you were wearing those wonderful suspenders and your gorgeous, sweet pussy was on display in all its beauty.

"Fuck... Y/N..."

What a sight! You had known he would like this and it excited you. Playfully, you bite your lower lip as you approach him slowly and smoothly, turning around once so Arthur can admire your bare ass.

"Do you like my little surprise, Arthur?" 

You laugh softly and seductively, already knowing the answer.

"If I wern't such a fucking gentleman, I'd throw you over my shoulder right now and fuck your brains out in bed!"

Oh, Arthur would certainly fuck you good and he would take you in that outfit. God, yes, he could already see you in front of him. How you would lie whimpering under him, in your stockings, while you would willingly stretch your pretty ass towards him, which he would slap a few times properly.

The thought alone heated Arthur up a lot and he began to sweat, instantly opening the collar of his shirt.

Arthur was about to get up, but you stopped him, because you weren't finished with your surprise.

"Relax, Arthur. Lay back and relax."

Arthur watched you kneel between his legs with lust in your eyes. 

Arthur grinned as he stared at your magnificent tits pressed upward by the corset. What would he give now to press his face between those magnificent pillows? To lick and suck on your nipples? 

"You're pure sin, you know that?"

"Mmm, is that so, Arthur?" you asked in a sweet tone as you slowly unzipped his pants and pulled down the zipper. Arthur drew in a sharp breath, knowing what was about to come, and he couldn't wait to feel your sweet mouth around his cock.

"Y/N... mhmm... you are such a naughty girl..."

You playfully lick your lips as you look at him, pulling his pants down a bit to free his manhood. His cock popped free, lying on his stomach and already aroused, but you knew there was more to be done. He already had a considerable size.

Tenderly, you grab his cock, slowly running your hand up and down, enjoying hearing Arthur take pleasure in it. You bend your head forward and start kissing him, tenderly and slowly. Your tongue glides along his velvety shaft, all the way up to his tip, which you then embrace with your lips and suck on.

"Ahh..."

Arthur lets his hand slide gently through your hair, watching you closely as he loved this view. As you look up at him, with your beautiful, big eyes, you finally take it into your mouth and Arthur thought he was losing his mind.

"Fuck..."

Pleasurably, he dropped his head into his neck as you sucked him and your delicate fingers stroked his testicles, knowing how wild that was making him.

"God, Y/N... ahhh..."

With a seductive giggle, you take him out of your mouth to now play with his plump, thick balls. You suck them gently into your mouth while Arthur makes it even easier for you to get  on the right spot. He rose from his spot, now towering over you as you still knelt in front of him. His hands held your head tightly as you worked his balls, sucking them greedily, but gently.

"Oh fuck... fuck..."

Arthur stroked himself, playing with the tip of his cock, while you sucked his balls greedy.

"You're such a naughty girl... mhmm..."

After a while, you took care of his hard, thick cock again. You wrapped your hand around it, massaging it, and Arthur looked down at you lustfully, grasping his cock himself. 

"Open your mouth!" he commanded, smacking his cock gently on your lips, whereupon you promptly stuck out your tongue catching the pre-cum dripping from it. Moaning with pleasure, Arthur watched you enjoy this moment very much. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your cheek, smearing his fluids over your skin.

"Ah... yes, Arthur..."

"You like that, don't you, Y/N?"

You look at his beautiful face with a smile, his shining eyes are so sexy.

With your delicate hands you embrace your plump breasts, his cock squeezed between the soft pillows and you massage it. Arthur moaned instantly, watching his cock being massaged between your tits.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you so hard for this; you won't be able to leave this room for the next few days... fuck... ahh..."

He was about to explode right in your face, but you stopped abruptly and you could hear the heavily disappointed undertone in his voice as the warm, soft feel of your tits no longer surrounded him. When Arthur opened his eyes, you were already on your feet again and with a cheeky expression on your pretty face as you backed away from him. You wanted to play, Arthur saw that and he liked to get involved in that kind of thing.

"Oh, so you wanna play, sweetheart?"

"Mmm, maybe."

Arthur took off his pants completely, already tugging his shirt over his shoulders, and tossed everything carelessly in a corner until he was finally standing in front of you in his full glory. 

Oh, what a man. So tall, masculine and muscular. His thighs resembled solid marble columns, his chest was covered with fine hair, a few scars adorned his body and he was perfect for you. Perfect and beautiful. Just as you were for Arthur.

His hungry eyes observed your body, the gorgeous, rounded hips, the plump tits that came out of that corset very provocatively. And your sweet, wet pussy, which was so indescribably beautiful and delicious. As was your scent, which was overwhelming.

"How beautiful you are, Y/N..."

He came closer to you and just as he was about to grab you, you slipped away from him and Arthur was very excited by that. It wouldn't be long before he had you either, as the room didn't offer many opportunities for escape. 

"Come here!"

He caught up to you quickly, reached around your thighs and waist , and threw you over his shoulder. With a solid smack on your buttock, he made you moan lustily.

"Mmm..." He bit your buttock with delight, making you laugh softly. "I should spank your ass, sweetheart. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm, why don't you try it, Arthur?"

Suddenly you feel his fingers sinking into your pussy and you take them deep without any problems.

"Look how wet you already are, princess!"

He finger-fucks you quickly, for a brief moment, which made you moan lustfully and whimper. When he takes his fingers out of you again, he licks your nectar off of them.

"Mmm..." He purrs softly, taking you to the bed where he tossed you in.

Instantly you spread your legs wide for him so he could see you in all your beauty. You were so dripping wet for him that it was already sliding down your labia and wetting the sheet beneath you.

"What a sight... I can't wait to lick that pretty pussy of yours, Y/N."

"Then come here, Arthur..." you said as you bit your lip and prepared to give yourself completely to him.

And Arthur wasted no time either, immediately laying down between your legs, inhaling your scent, murmuring deeply and excitedly and licking his lips as he did so. Shortly after, he sank his face between your pretty thighs and you felt his mouth taking you fully. Arthur was kissing you greedily, hungrily, enjoying the nectar that came out of you. 

You felt incredible pleasure, clawing at the sheet beneath you and moaning sweetly, while he eats you out like a pot of honey. He gently takes your labia into his mouth, sucking on it and then letting go. He did this over and over again, then ran his tongue between your labia and quickly swirls on your pearl with the tip of his tongue. And as Arthur did this, he could hear you whimpering and moaning, which excited him deeply. God, he couldn't wait to ram his hard cock deep into your wet hole and make love to you until you were completely drained in that bed. He had a single image running through his mind; you, covered in his cum, lying whimpering on the bed, with your legs spread wide, and yet you would be begging him to keep going. "Mhmm... ahh..." That filthy thought heated him up beyond belief, nearly driving him out of his mind.

His hands held your thighs tightly, holding you on the bed while his tongue pushed deep into your pussy. Soon, you started to tremble and that's when Arthur knew you were about to climax. 

Looking down at him, you stared directly into his eyes, which were full of lust and greed. They were dark with desire and you knew you were in for a long night; and hell yes, you wanted it. There was so much you could do, so much you could try. Just the two of you, wrapped in your passion, in the immense love you had for each other.

"A-Arthur... ahh..."

Your lust overtook you, your fingers clawing desperately into his hair and your lower body quivering as your climax shook you.

"God... Arthur!"

You tried to push his face away from you as this pleasure was almost unbearable and your clit was so incredibly sensitive, but Arthur wouldn't let you push him away, he held you close, fucking your hole with his tongue and you thought you were losing your mind. It gave him an incredible amount of pleasure to see you trembling so full of lust. He only let go of you slowly, looking at you very closely, seeing the lust in your mimic.

"Mhm..."

Arthur licked his lips sensually, you could see your nectar shimmering on his face and in his beard.

"Arthur... oh god..."

Your beautiful smile of joy, made his heart almost burst with joy. His warm body laid on top of you, his lips kissing yours hungrily and full of passion, while he guided his cock to your wet, wet pussy, stroking the tip over your clit, before entering deep inside you, moaning together with you full of pleasure...

♦♦♦♦

Your pussy was like velvet and you were hot, so wet. Arthur thought he was losing his mind. He began to thrust into you. Slowly at first and he savored being so deep inside you. His throbbing cock filled you completely. "Ahh... you're so tight and so hot..." he moaned against your ear and he bit your earlobe. His voice had gone a notch  darker and that made your body tremble with pleasure. His lips kissed your mouth as he moved rhythmically inside you and his tart scent clouded your senses. He smelled of leather, thyme and tobacco...

The sound of his balls smacking against your wetness filled the room as he thrust hard and deep into you from behind. Your butt cheeks bounced with each thrust, as did your plump breasts. His strong hand gripped your ass, squeezing tightly, before giving it a good smack.

"Ahh! Arthur... yes..."

"You like that, don't you?" he purred, deeply aroused, while he kept fucking your brains out. His hands spread your butt cheeks apart and he enjoyed the sight of his cock slamming into you again and again, his balls slapping against your pussy.

"Oh, fuck... mhmm..."

Enveloped by your scent and your husky, lustful sounds, and after more powerful thrusts from Arthur, he felt that he would soon reach his climax and you too felt yourself tingling violently between your legs and the feeling growing in your belly. When his hand slid between your thighs to caress your clit, you were soon overcome by your climax. Your ass stretched out to Arthur and you clawed at the sheet beneath you for help, driving him crazy with the sight of your beautiful body. And finally he squirted his seed deep into your soft pussy, growling lustfully and closing his eyes as he thrust into you trembling and riding out his climax. "Ahhhh!" 

He clung to you as you both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Your hearts beat quickly in time and it took a moment for you to calm down from your climax. You felt so desired, so loved; you felt like you would always find protection in his arms.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments; your foreheads resting together, not wanting to lose the feeling of the other. This was a special moment for both of you...

♦♦♦♦

"I would love to stay here for a few more days. Just live like a normal couple on a vacation," you said as you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase. Arthur could understand you very well. It was something different not to have to worry all the time about what was going to happen to all of you. The two of you had not spoken once about the current situation in the camp during the time you were here. At the moment everything was going well, but for how long? You had often had this thought, but this weekend, you had completely blocked it out, and that was a good thing.

"You know, sweetheart, I'd like to take you to Strawberry. To the mountains, to nature. Enjoy the peace and quiet..." Arthur hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, smiling contentedly. Loving you was a blessing for him. You were an incredible woman that he desired so much and his heart, his soul, belonged to you alone.

"What do you think of that, Y/N?"

"I'd love that Arthur. Just you and me..."

"Yes."

He tenderly kissed your lips and whatever was to come was of no importance at the moment.

[theyluvlyss]

𝐬𝐨, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞...

I literally just came up with this little drabble, and I'm sorry, but it's funny to me, so-

but anyway, two more shazam fics are on the way pretty soon (one freddy, one billy), and then I got a stranger things/mike wheeler request after that, so be on the lookout :) !

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝

《 ♡ 》 oneshot/crack-fic

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

reader loves it when billy showcases his power. billy loves showing off to his girlfriend. it's a win-win situation, to be honest.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!girlfriend!reader x billy batson - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

post shazam!: fury of the gods

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

yelling/screaming (in a good way, dw) - lots of begging from reader lmao - billy being easily swayed bc he wuvs you🥰 - dang, this is kinda crazy sounding outta context, huh? - anyways - this whole thing is just very berry cute, methinks - good vibes only, supa good vibes only✨️ - shrek reference

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

"Do the thing!"

It was a sudden squeal, almost as if you'd been holding it back for a while. Not to mention, the walk back to his place had been comfortably silent the whole time before, your hand in his with both stuffed off in his coat pocket in order to shield them from the cold, winter weather.

Although, the squeezes you would give occasionally should've been somewhat of a warning sign. Billy just figured it was a silent, "I love you" of some sort, returning the action every time with butterflies in his chest that kept him warm.

He never would've guessed them as a sign for an incoming fangirl moment. And so, to be sure...

"What thing?"

Not that he wasn't genuinely confused, of course.

"Ya'know... the thing that I like?"

He looked down at you, met with your beaming smile back up at him that brought on one of his own. Still unsure, though, merely repeating the words you had jingled to him all of the sudden back to you in a tone of skepticism.

"The thing you like?"

"Yeah!" You chriped, waiting for him to catch on excitedly, only to be mildly disappointed when that moment never came and he shook his head in dismiss.

"...I don't know, I'm still lost."

"Billy, noo..." You whined, nudging him a bit with your side as the walk continued. "Pleaseeee?"

"What thing?!"

And before you could fully explain yourself, you saw a look in the emerald of his eyes that told you he was faking, the boy having caught on by this point and leaving you to huff and turn away.

"...Stop, you know what I'm talking about, you're just being mean."

Deep chuckles came from his chest, Billy nodding to himself in amusement after you had realized he was teasing you. And, because it was in his nature, he continued to do so until you would ask properly.

"You're right, I do know. I just wanna hear you say it."

"Mncht." You clicked your tongue but didn't give in to the vexing feeling of your boyfriend complicating the process, keeping strong at your pleads in hopes to simply just wear him down.

"Billyyy...please do the thing? Please?"

"C'monnnn..." He urged, nudging his shoulder with yours, and was satisfied with the roll of your eyes and his implied directions followed.

"Hmff... Can you pleaaase say the word? Please?"

"You want me to say the word~?" He repeated, this time with a tone of flirtatiousness that you willingly succumbed to, snuggling up to his arm almost too cheesy for your own liking as you gave an eager, "Yes!"

"Mmm, I dunnooo'..."

This boy and his need to taunt, you swore, would be the death of you...! And yet, it was charming enough for you to let it slide.

No, he was charming enough for you to let it slide. Shaggy brown hair and gorgeous green eyes and those cute dimples whenever he flashed you that winning smile...

Plus, you had been on the verge of geeking out the whole day out with him. Your boyfriend is a superhero for Christ's sake! Of course you'd want to randomly see the magic of it all from time to time! And it's not like you ever knew him to shy away from amazing you whenever he could. So...

"Please-please-please with a lot of maraschino cherries on top?"

Billy laughed at your specifics, already in the midst of guiding you towards a secluded area away from crowds and bystanders.

"Okay, okay, but only because you asked so nicely."

"Yes, yay-yay-yay...!!"

Your cheers and giggles of excitement went hushed by your own hands, waiting in anticipation as Billy took some safety steps back away from you and gave one last look around the area. When he was sure he was in the clear, he granted you your wish. Did just as you asked...

He said the word...

"SHAZAM!!"

...and with a thunderous crash of lightning and a blinding light for only a moment, he was transformed into his older, super-self, and you were laughing wildly through jagged gasps of amazement.

"AHAHAHAHA!!!"

A little bit of a crazy laugh, you'd admit later, but not the point-

"Yeah? How was that?!" Billy-... Shazam asked, his arms spread wide open as he walked closer to you.

"Super loud and scary!" You squealed, hopping around like a little girl who was seeing a fireworks show for the first time, the glowing emblem on his chest casting you and the entire alleyway in gold.

"Yeah?!" Shazam nodded in confirmation with a grin just as wide as your own.

"But it's so hot!!"

"Yeah, it is...!"

Billy's ego? Boosted.

Your fangirl levels? Off the charts.

Hotel? Trivago.

"Okay, now do it again, but back to you-you." You demanded requested, doing a small spin move with your index finger while Shazam dropped his arms to his side.

"Dude-"

"-Please?" You cut before he could provide any light scolds or reasons as to why he shouldn't. You were his girlfriend, and you were so cute looking up at him, expecting to see her boyfriend, now, and not some grown man version of him she... liked... but didn't truly care for.

"...Okay."

"Yay!" You clapped, moving yourself back this time to avoid a second lighting strike.

"SHAZAM!!"

And with that, he was back to himself, your Billy Batson, standing with his arms still open in hopes he'd impressed you the way you had assumed he would.

And god, did he go above and beyond.

"AHAHAHA, YOU'RE SO COOL, I LOVE YOU!!!" You nearly screamed, voice rasping over from the sheer amount of pressure you were putting on your throat.

"I love you, too! C'mere...!" He laughed, admiring your excited figure and the way you were already running towards for him to catch you in his arms in a warm hug.

It lasted for longer than you both expected, but was clearly needed as you enjoyed each other's presence and touch.

"You know what you reminded me of, lowkey?" Billy murmured, no need to be any louder when he was right by your ear.

"Hmm?" You hummed, face pressed into the crook of his neck, cold nose tickling his skin.

"...Do the roar."

You pulled away very slowly. Your face went about as cold as your feet were right now, staring deep into Billy's eyes with a look of pure disbelief.

He stared back. Grinning, head nodding as if to say, "Yeah? Right?" like a puppy.

"You know what?" You hummed gently, returning the smile softly while your vision trailed his features and then down to his chest.

"Yeah?"

You pointed directly to his heart.

"You...are amazingly talented..."

":D!?"

"...at ruining nice moments between us."

":0..."

You nodded, satisfied with yourself at the light tease.

"Mhm, yeah :)."

𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐬-...𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭...𝐢𝐬- 𝐈-...

is it obvious I have such a BAD crush on billy, and this is lowkey shamelessly self-indulgent, or nah🧍🏽‍♀️?

you said nah?

awesome, cool, thanks /ᐠ-⩊-マ.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

me🤭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,132 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[that-blue-vault-dweller]

Hello I hope you are doing well. Are you still doing Fallout 4 companions react? If you are I got a funny one for you. How would the companions react to someone telling the Sole Survivor to act her age, and she immediately plays dead.

Thank you! I'm doing quite well, and I hope you are, too! I hope you enjoy this one! 🥰 I know I loved writing it 😂

Cait - Despite the fact that she is utterly fuming at the person who had dared tell F!Sole that, she cannot help but snort in amusement when she understands the reason she fell to the ground. F!Sole's sense of humor is undyingly (no pun intended) awful and literal, but it is a nice way to put the person in their place.

Curie - Misses the joke at first and is immediately at F!Sole's side, worrying for her health because people don't collapse for no reason. However, when she understands the joke, she does find it rather funny, but only after she has ensured Madame's safety.

Piper - Almost immediately falls to the ground laughing with her Blue because her naturally smart-mouthed self INSTANTLY gets it. However, she manages to hold herself together long enough to make a sarcastic quip to the rude person saying something along the lines of "Ask and ye shall receive."

MacCready - Takes him a second to get it, but he cannot help but find it extremely funny when he does. He laughs a little as he gives the person the stink-eye until they go away and leave him and his "dead" friend alone.

Deacon - Falls to the ground with her before he fully understands the joke. No explanations or anything, he just goes and plays dead alongside her just to further mess with the person that had told her to act her age. He's always in for a good prank.

Codsworth - Laughs happily. The joke doesn't take long to occur to him, and he is more than eager to support her attempts to ward off the haters. He scolds the person, making sure to make a few clever comments himself.

Hancock - Would have just assumed stab them as look at them for saying something like that to F!Sole, but when she fell to the ground in response, he waits for just a couple of beats, trying to figure out what she's doing. As soon as it dawns on him, he is instantly cackling loudly and unashamedly at her clever way of putting the person in their place.

Danse - Is somewhat embarrassed and terribly taken off-guard by the display. He is instantly dragging her up and leaving because this is not an honorable sort of way to represent the Brotherhood or if it's Post-BB, it's not a way to conduct oneself in public regardless. -5/10, not outstanding.

Preston - Is somewhat shocked that his general is behaving this way, but it is slightly funny despite his reservations about how this must represent the Minutemen. He just sort of looks away awkwardly until she is done.

Valentine - Just sighs tiredly and he gets it instantly. However, he can't help enjoying the joke despite the ridiculousness of the entire thing. After a few moments, he asks her if acting his age was dead, too, and if he should go ahead and join her.

X6-88 - Is terribly unamused. This is a waste of time. It would have been more fitting to simply threaten the person or skip the formalities and simply shoot them. But he lets her have her fun despite how silly it is.

Dogmeat - Does not understand the humor and is instantly confused and a little concerned when she falls over. He sniffs her carefully, trying to figure out if she is alright. However, when he sees she's okay, he barks excitedly, taking the opportunity to lick her face now that she's more conveniently at his level.

Strong - Is instantly confused and he kicks her side a little to see if she's really alive or if she just fell over dead for real. When she quickly comes back to life to assure him of her livelihood, he gets angry. "Why tiny human pretend to be dead when NOT dead?!!! MAKES NO SENSE!!!"