#papas!cherub

[uppermocns]

HI bites you kisses you shakes u . i wuv u

makes out with u passionately as friends and babties. i wuv u so much

[onesizedgirl]

Feast yer eyes upon this mateys

Ian McDiarmid and twink! Tom Hollander in Tartuffe, Almeida Theatre, 1996

[fumikoshi]

Mochi

✧ — SUMMARY; Gojo's daughter's first words.

Gojo sat comfortably on the couch, cradling his precious bundle of joy in his strong, yet gentle arms. She was a bundle of warmth and joy, her chubby cheeks flushed with happiness. As he gently stroked her small head, she babbled incoherently, her tiny fingers grasping at the air as if trying to catch a fleeting butterfly.

As he stroked her soft, downy hair, he couldn't help but marvel at the perfection of this moment. His daughter's giggles filled the room like music, and he found himself completely enchanted by her every movement.

"Hey there, little mochi," Gojo murmured, his voice filled with love as he leaned in closer to his daughter's cherubic face. "What's got you so excited, huh~?"

The baby cooed in response, her eyes twinkling with delight as she continued to babble in her own adorable language. Gojo couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling with affection for his precious daughter.

Then, as if on cue, amidst the babbling and cooing, a single word emerged from her tiny lips. "Da...da."

Gojo froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? He looked down at his daughter, who looked back at him with wide, innocent eyes, her tiny mouth forming the word once more.

"Dada" she repeated, her voice soft and sweet.

A surge of emotion overwhelmed Gojo as he realized what had just happened. His daughter, his little angel, had just uttered her first word, and it was directed at him.

she would surely be her papa's daughter. his heart overflowing with love and pride.

Scooping her up in his strong arms, Gojo hugged her tiny body tightly, pressing kisses to her chubby cheeks. "That's right, little mochi" he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm your dada, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

His daughter giggled in response, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck as she snuggled closer to him. At that moment, surrounded by love and warmth, Gojo knew that nothing in the world could ever compare to the bond he shared with his precious daughter

[suntoru]

─ ✰ INVISIBLE STRING.

─ SYNOPSIS: the three times you coincidentally bump into toji fushiguro and the one time you find out it was intentional.

─ WARNINGS: 3.4k words!! not proofread, swearing, fluff, ooc toji?, mentions of a dildo, mild violence, creepy perv (not toji), BABY MEGSSS, idk i started yapping halfway through

— AUTHOR’S NOTE: GUYS I LOVE TOJI. I LOVE HIS SLUTTY WAIST. disclaimer i’m only like 6 episodes into jjk i apologize if the characterization is off!

— the first time your ever meet toji fushiguro is on a friday at 8PM. you don’t expect to be so downbad for somebody you just met, much less in a grocery store in your pajamas, but here you are. and fuck, he’s hot. he’s clad in a snug, black compression shirt that outlines his biceps so nicely and enticingly low-waisted white sweatpants that fall deliciously on his hips… compared to him, you look like a hobo in your ratty old pajamas. scratching your head in embarrassment, you instantly look away before he catches you staring— and thank god he speaks up, his voice interrupting your less-than-innocent thoughts.

“think that’s mine,” he motions casually to the black-haired cherub curled up in your arms. the little one’s eyes, swollen and red from the relentless wailing for his papa just seconds earlier now lights up immediately, adoration clear in his eyes. his tiny little arms outstretches towards toji in an adorable plea to be held. rolling his eyes, toji relents, scooping megumi up with one arm and securing him in his hold.

“cute kid.” you coo, ruffling the doe-eyed toddler’s hair affectionately.

“yeah… cute little brat,” he mutters in a low voice. “where’d you find him?” you giggle softly. “was in the toy section playing, noticed he was alone, then started to cry… be more careful next time, okay, ’gumi?” the child nods his head shyly, burying his face in his daddy’s chest. you wish that was you don’t u u horny degenerate /lh

“swear to god, he won’t listen to me when i tell him stuff. and he gets sad too easily, cries when he isn’t allowed to buy whatever he wants…” toji scoffs, pinching megumi’s cheek and a small whine escapes the toddler, effectively tugging at your heartstrings. what a cute little family.

“the mama must be real pretty; cause he certainly doesn’t take after his grumpy papa.” you lightheartedly joke, allowing the black-haired baby to toy with your fingers. “the mom’s out of the picture.” toji nonchalantly reveals, an unexpected hush falling over the conversation.

wide-eyed, you realize the awkwardness that your comment had caused. “i-i’m so sorry!! i didn’t mean to—” you stammer, feeling a pang of regret. “‘t's fine, shit happens.” he shrugs his shoulders ever so casually, dispelling the tension in the air. “it’s just me and this little gremlin here,” he adds, and despite his earlier insults towards the adorable baby, it’s crystal clear he loves him— even if he won’t readily admit it out loud. being a single dad… you can’t even imagine it. must be so hard…

you're so caught up in your feels that you don’t even notice when toji takes a peek into your grocery cart, a snicker escaping him. momentarily confused, you follow his gaze and then it hits you— oh no. what you originally came here to do, the reason you didn’t even have time to dress properly was because it was the last discount day for– looking down in horror, placed proudly, right on top of your cart, is an obnoxiously bright pink silicone dick.

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and a flush of embarrassment colors your cheeks as you fumble for words. “i-i… um… c-can explain!!” seemingly enjoying your flusteredness, he loses no time teasing you. "someone's clearly single." he remarks, a smug look plastered on his face. he snatches it out of your cart, dangling the object just out of reach– this bastard!! capturing megumi's attention, the innocent curiosity in his little mind interprets the funny-looking object as a potential toy, prompting him to reach out with grabby hands.

in a state of panic, you swiftly smack it out of toji’s hands, but you fail to realize there’s somebody in your way– you accidentally hit a balding, middle aged man square in the face with a dildo. a fucking dildo. letting out an audible gasp, you quickly turn away as the now angry man swivels around, searching for the perpetrator angrily. your efforts to stay inconspicuous prove futile as the 6'2 sorcerer can't contain his laughter, earning a few odd stares from shoppers passing by.

"it's not funny," you whine, feeling the heat creeping up to your face as he wipes away a tear, still clutching his stomach. he grins tauntingly, wholeheartedly amused.

"nah, that shit’s hilarious."

— “mama, mama!!” coincidence seems to strike once more, for your second encounter with toji fushiguro comes about a week later. you’re minding your own business in a neighborhood park, in the middle of texting your friend when little megumi joyfully latches himself onto your leg, gurgling happily, effectively scaring the shit out of you. safe to say, you're surprised— mommy? you'd met him once for thirty minutes and he's imprinted on you.

but you can't find it in yourself to be mad; he's practically looking at you with stars in his eyes. so you cave, crouching down to meet his height, patting his teeny tiny head gently.

"hi megs!! where's dada?" you question, and sure enough, the adorable little cherub points enthusiastically to his father, who happens to be engaged in conversation with two women. they’re giggling obnoxiously, stroking his biceps and being overly touchy, and he seems to be enjoying it. in an instant, all your former attraction seems to dissipate in an instant. an annoyed huff escapes you— of course, he's a manwhore. you should've known, he seems like just the type, but letting your kid leave your sight was just completely unacceptable.

feeling pissed, you can practically feel a vein bulge in your forehead. you’re going to knock some sense into that thick skull of his. scooping up megumi, you march up to toji, making sure to be extra cautious while holding him in your arms. what was he thinking? is it like this all the time? him getting distracted by a pair of tits and forgetting about his own son? seriously, this man needs to get his act together.

as soon as he’s in range, your free hand swiftly makes contact with the back of toji's head, letting out a loud ‘thwack’ noise on impact. he lets out a painful groan. "the fuck?" toji curses, rubbing the back of his head. unfazed, you return his sass with a stern expression.

"the hell do you think you're doing? talking to girls instead of taking care of your kid? no wonder 'gumi wanders off all the time, you didn't even notice he went missing! stop thinking with your dick all the time and start thinking with your head!!" you scold the older man as he scoffs. "me? you're one to talk, buying a rubber cock for your lonely ass. who the hell are you to judge my parenting?"

you're about to retaliate when the two girls exchange a glance, scowling in annoyance as they side-eye both you and toji. "y'know, if you were married, you could've just said so in the beginning." one of the girls pipes up as the other nods her head. "yeah, stop wasting our time loser, lets go." and before he can respond, they storm off dramatically. he rolls his eyes at them, sticking up his middle finger at their backs.

“whatever. they were bitches anyways. and you’re a real killjoy.” you flick his forehead lightly. “the fact that i, a complete random stranger, takes better care of this kid than you is quite concerning.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he mumbles snarkily, attempting to snatch megumi away from you. he can’t believe his eyes when the chubby little baby starts to tear up, clutching onto you tighter and repeating babbles of ‘mama.’ “megumi, get down from there!” toji hisses. “listen, ya little brat, that ain’t your momma.” glaring, you attempt to hand back the stubborn ‘brat’ to his father, but to your (and his) dismay, he continues to latch onto you with an iron grip. if you didn’t know any better, with how megumi was acting, you’d think toji had never dealt with a child before. all he did was glare daggers at the both of you; the longer the interaction went on, the more irritated he got. a scolding glare towards his son, then the stranger.

“for the last time, stop clinging to that woman! she isn’t your mother.” the poor baby’s eyes glass over, about to burst into tears as you rock him in your arms, letting out a huff in annoyance. “calm your whining. you think he’s going to listen if all you do is yell?”

“fine. i’ll just… pick him up then.” toji grumbled, looking annoyed as he bent over to retrieve his son from your arms. as soon as he picked him up, megumi began wiggling and trying to get away from his father. “stop that.” toji’s face was filled with annoyance as his son’s stubby little fingers wrap around your shirt tightly. he tries his best to be gentle as he pries the baby away from you, yet the little boy began to cry and reach for you. it was clear the youngest fushiguro had developed a strong attachment to you, the stranger who helped him once before.

“‘gumi…” you coo in the softest voice you can manage, pinching his cheek softly. “listen to dada, okay? i’ll buy you ice cream if you’re good.” at the sound of a frozen treat, he instantly stops crying and settles into his papa’s arms, gurgling happily. toji looks at you in utter shock; he lost count of the amount of times he had tried so talk some sense into his little son— but just once from some random stranger, he chooses to listen. the 6’2 sorcerer sighs in defeat, sending his baby another scowl.

clearly, megumi has no sense of loyalty.

— “well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re jus’ following me now.” for the third time, you guessed it: toji fushiguro. at this point, it was becoming harder to dismiss these encounters as mere coincidences; had the universe suddenly decide to play matchmaker?

“huh?” you scoff, glancing up from your notepad. of course, he had to choose this exact coffee shop to stroll into while you were on your shift. “i work here.” he eyes you cockily, emanating more of that stupidly hot confidence that somehow makes your heart beat just a little faster than it should.

“be honest— you really just got the job cause you heard i’d be here today.” deadpanning, you roll your eyes. he can’t be serious; he’s such a manchild. “yes, because you’re such a celebrity. where’s megs?” you question, noticing the absence of the adorable baby usually accompanied by his obnoxiously sexy father.

“daycare.” he responds with a lazy drawl, his voice a low, resonant hum that sent shivers down your spine. he seemed engrossed with picking something at his nails, the nonchalant demeanor accentuating the sculpted lines of his features. "you know, it's a shame. you seem a lot less charming without a certain little one running around." you yawn, deliberately trying to piss him off.

as if challenging you, he straightens up, piercing grey eyes locked onto yours. leaning forward onto the counter, his proximity sparks something in your core— was he always this pretty? no wonder he’s popular. his lips look so damn kissable. (you wonder how they’d feel against your own.) your heartbeat picks up as you find yourself unable to keep eye contact, pupils darting elsewhere. you really hope your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“…u-um. your order?” he grins cockily, pulling back at your surrender. “an espresso. and here, the extra dollar's for you.” he casually tosses you a crumpled wad of cash, and at a glance, worth just a little over one dollar and fifty cents. …you can already sense a burgeoning headache destined to plague you by the end of the day.

“…just— whatever. keep the money. it’s on the house.” you groan, escaping from the dumbass man to the back to retrieve the coffee beans. as you scour the shelves stocked with coffee supplies, you attempt to find the espresso beans.

you thoughts, however, are interrupted when your coworker suddenly pops up, prompting an involuntary shriek and effectively scaring the shit out of you. she beams brightly, enthusiasm radiating from her as she clutches onto your arm, ignoring your reaction completely.

“that customer is just my type!! tall, handsome, hot… mind switching with me, please, please, pleeeeeease??” she begs, her eyes wide with desperation and in her best attempt to coax you. you end up relenting pretty easily— after all, you owe her for the numerous overtime hours she's covered for you, but you can't ignore the unmistakable pang of jealousy tugging at your heart. what’s wrong with you? you shouldn’t care, not in the slightest. shouldn't. he's a random stranger who you just so happened to bump into three times now. toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. but for some reason, you find yourself growing… attached.

your eyes follow your coworker, parading out of the storage room with her lips freshly glossed and a flirty smile on her face. a pang of annoyance prickles at you; you're sure he'll absolutely eat her up.

determined to distance yourself from the sight, you trudge over to the adjacent cash register, taking over for your fellow coworker's customer. a friendly smile graces the face of the person in front of you.

"hi." he smiles brightly, greeting you in a friendly manner. "can i get an iced americano?" you nod, ringing his order up. his request is met with a nod from you, and you smoothly proceed to ring up his order. the clinking of the coffee machine acts as a backdrop to the interaction, your mind momentarily distracted by the lingering sensation of unease in your stomach. once done, you serve the ice-cold drink to the customer, who happily takes it, eyes gleaming in satisfaction before winking charmingly.

"and an extra tip for the pretty barista." he says, his tone suggestive as he hands you a bill. is he... really hitting on you? the air thickens with an uncomfortable tension, and you mutter a somewhat awkward thanks, his smile widens, and he leans in, making you feel slightly uneasy.

"isn't this the part where you give me your number?" he teases, leaving a silent pause that hangs in the air. "uhm... i'm really sorry, but... uh-" before you can finish, he boldly grabs one of your hands from across the counter, getting a little too close for comfort. "no need to say anything, cutie. our lips can do the talking." the fuck is wrong with this creep?

you attempt to snatch your hand back, but his grip is like iron. panic starts to set in as beads of sweat form on your forehead. what are you supposed to do in this situation?

just as the tension becomes nearly unbearable, a large hand intervenes, firmly gripping the weirdo's collar. a hand you so thankfully recognize intervenes just in the nick of time. toji's voice, dripping with venom, cuts through the charged atmosphere.

"why the fuck are you touching my spouse?" his snarl, coupled with an ice-cold glare, sends shivers down even your spine. a plausible lie, and extremely believeable. the smaller man stutters, his eyes searching frantically for an escape from toji's wrath. "i-i, um..." he stutters, eyes looking frantically for help. without a moment's hesitation, toji forcefully drops the intruder to the floor, his intense glare bearing down on the now-submissive figure.

"next time, i'll make sure you pay for it." he warns with a chilling undertone, his voice resonating with a quiet but unmistakable threat.

— seven days after the incident, you find solace in a quaint bookstore, its ambiance offering a quiet and peaceful haven for your studying. you're deep in thought, productivity at an all time high. however, the tranquility is soon disrupted by the unmistakable bickering of a child, no older than two, engaged in what seems like a standoff with a fully grown adult. who in the hell would argue with a kid...?

suspiciously, you stand up, leaving your laptop unattended for a split second to take a peek into the book aisle where the sound was coming from. and just as you suspected; there stands toji fushiguro. you suppress a giggle seeing him all crouched over, a pissy expression on his face.

"ya little rat, go give this to y/n. mama. mama, y'hear?" he hisses under his breath, his words an amusing blend of authority and exasperation. he attempts to give a rose to the stubborn little cherub, who violently shakes his head in refusal. holding a book almost as big as himself, he stomps his tiny foot, lifting the curious george volume even higher, adorned with a big pout that adds an extra layer of adorableness to the scene. "i'll read to you later, so just-"

"well, well, well… you again. i’m starting to think you’re just following me now."

you quip, echoing the words he tossed your way exactly a week ago. a smug grin stretches across your face, savoring the sweet taste of his embarrassment. he whirls around, momentarily losing his cool, a curse escaping his lips as he throws his head back. is that a hint of pink dusting his cheeks? you can't help but revel in delight. and as if on cue, megumi beams at you, his small frame waddling towards you with unbridled joy as you scoop him up with ease.

"mama!!" he cheers as you ruffle his hair playfully before turning your attention back to the other 6'2 baby towering over you. "looks to me like you're the obsessed stalker." you tease, a genuine grin stretching across your face. wiping a mock tear from your eye, you catch a glimpse of toji's eye roll, his attempt to feign composure failing as a trace of a pout plays on his lips.

"shuttup," he groans, rubbing the back of his head. he attempts to use this banter as a distraction, sneakily concealing the gift behind his back. but you're not one to be outplayed.

"not so fast..." you grin, skillfully snatching the crimson rose from his grasp before he can offer any protest. it's undeniably pretty, and you find yourself admiring it, a soft smile playing on your lips. you glance back at toji who, now hands tucked into his pockets, deliberately avoids eye contact. "never knew you were much of a charmer." you playfully jest, twirling the delicate flower between your fingers as a teasing smile graces your lips.

"i'm not." he shrugs, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. you set megumi down, allowing him to gleefully grab another dr. seuss picture book.

"awww, so then am i just special?" you snicker, lashes fluttering softly, the lighthearted banter echoing through the quiet aisles of the bookstore. perhaps a little too loudly, as an employee, with an air of rudeness, suggests that all three of you should be a little more discreet before you're escorted out.

apologizing profusely, you struggle to contain your laughter as the employee, irritated by the disturbance, makes a dramatic exit. unbeknownst to him, however, a janitor quietly mops the floors right behind him— resulting in an unfortunate slip and a rather audible rip as his pants succumb to the unforeseen mishap. your face turns pink, and you bite your lip, desperately trying to stifle your laughter to avoid drawing further attention and the risk of being kicked out.

you manage to slap toji's mouth shut, a preemptive measure against the impending witch cackle that could escape if left unchecked. the employee shoots both of you one last glare, clearly unimpressed, before huffing and storming off in a hasty retreat.

exchanging a knowing glance with toji, you finally peel your hand off his mouth, the quiet snickering between you two escalating into unrestrained laughter. as the atmosphere gradually settles, you can't help but notice toji's intense gaze fixed upon you, a look that goes beyond mere amusement.

it's a gaze so deep, so penetrating, that it seems to hold an enchantment of its own. in that moment, you feel like the protagonist in a love-struck tale, caught in the gaze of someone who sees more than just the surface.

toji fushiguro is a womanizer, a horrendous father, and an arrogantly cocky man. …but… you think you can manage.

and so you find your arms slinking around his waist, a huge, unwavering grin plastered on your face. "you're such a baby, y'know? if you liked me you could've just asked for my number." he grumbles under his breath, yet tugs you closer to his body warmth. rolling his eyes, he flicks your forehead, lips curving up into a smile. "you're the worst."

© KAEFFEINEE 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[pucksandpower]

Hey, I just read the Grid Kids series and I’m in love. I’ve got kids of my own and I remember when they first started trying to talk how everyone was practically fighting over who their first work would be and was wondering if you could do a First Word one where they are all doing the same of Seb and Readers kid. Like maybe even little nicknames of theory full name like for Charles it’s Char or for Lando it’s Lan? I thought it might be cute. But everyone gets a surprise when none of them are the kids first word and it’s someone else instead. Love your writing xx

Grid Kids: Speak Now

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: no one could have predicted what your daughter’s first word would be

Series Masterlist

“No, no, no! That’s not how you say it!” You lightly tickle your daughter’s belly until she’s giggling uncontrollably. “Mama! Say Mama!”

Your daughter, a chubby little cherub with her father’s hair and your eyes, squeals with delight, her tiny hands reaching out to grab yours.

She’s been babbling for months now but has yet to say her first real word.

“Come on, bärchen,” Sebastian coos, scooping her up into his arms. “Say Papa for Papa.”

Your daughter claps her hands and gurgles happily, her eyes sparkling. She is determined to keep you both guessing, it seems.

Meanwhile, your grid kids are gathered around, watching the exchange with amusement. They’ve all been trying to coax your daughter into saying their names too but she has stubbornly resisted their charms.

“Maybe she’ll say my name first,” Charles jokes, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“Not a chance,” Max retorts, his Dutch accent thick with amusement. “She loves me the most.”

“Oh, please,” Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “She clearly thinks I’m the coolest brother.”

“Ha,” George laughs, “in your dreams.”

“Exactly! Because we all know that’s me,” Mick chimes in.

Lance arches an eyebrow. “How does it feel knowing you’re all wrong?”

The boys continue to bicker playfully, each one convinced that they are your daughter’s favorite.

The baby in question, meanwhile, seems oblivious to the commotion, her attention focused solely on the shiny red Ferrari parked behind you.

“Box, box!” She exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

Charles, standing closest to the car, freezes. His eyes widen in horror and his face drains of color. Before anyone can react, he collapses to the ground like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.

The boys gasp in shock, their voices echoing through the garage. You rush to Charles’ side, checking for a pulse. He’s alive but he’s definitely not responding.

Sebastian scoops up your daughter, her wide eyes fixed on the stricken Ferrari driver. “It’s okay, honey,” he soothes, gently stroking her hair. “Charles is just a little tired.”

He carries your daughter away, leaving you to deal with the commotion. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Ferrari trauma, I guess,” you mutter to yourself, a rueful smile playing on your lips.

As you help the rest of the grid kids revive Charles, you can’t help but feel a surge of love for your chaotic family.

They may be crazy but you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[leclerc-hs]

snowballs - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader (fem) summary: in which you bake cookies with charles and his daughter but still end up on your knees warnings: some cute fluff?, 18+, slight smut, oral (m-receiving), bad french (please correct me!!! i don't speak french), not proofread word count: 1,342 author's note: merry christmas eve (ya filthy animals) lmaooo. also loling at the title. leaving this here for y'all. single dad Charles has me in a complete chokehold. this is not a part 2, just a little Christmas themed drabble if you wanna call it that. if you didn’t read THIS yet, then go do it.

french edits made by @dannyramirezwife !!! (my angel)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE AIR WAS filled with the sweet scent of pine and cinnamon, instantly putting you in a festive mood as soon as you arrived today. Soft, twinkling lights adorn the walls and windows, casting a warm and inviting glow throughout the space. Throughout the apartment, the sound of classic Christmas tunes plays softly in the background.

The kitchen, where all three of you stood, was pure chaos. Bowls varying sizes are strewn across the countertops, each bearing the remnants of different stages of the baking process. A mixing bowl, its sides smeared with sticky remnants of cookie dough, sits next to a flour-dusted measuring cup. Multiple trays of already baked cookies, sat cooling atop the stove. It truly was a mess.

“Papa! Vous ne pouvez pas manger ça!” You can’t eat those! She exclaimed in fits of laughter. Her face was absolutely covered in ingredients. No doubt from sneaking licks of cookie dough and frosting when she thought that nobody was looking. Flour coated her hands and arms, and some had found its way to her rosy cheeks.

“Ils sont pour le Père Noël!” They’re for Santa! You agreed with her. Swatting him with one of the Christmas themed hand towels that was nearby, before returning to decorating the cookies that lay in front of you.

Charles emitted a resounding gasp, skillfully weaving of feigned anguish. His reaction unfolded with a theatrical flair; a symphony of emotion portrayed through a dramatic hand gesture that traversed the journey of his fist to his chest. It mimicked the palpable sensation of being struck, an artful display of simulated injury. “Un autre homme reçoit tout cela?” Another man gets all of these?

With an indulgent smile, you playfully orchestrate a slow, deliberate roll of your eyes in response to his theatrics. Unfazed by the charming display, you redirect your attention solely to the task at hand – meticulously adorning the remaining cookies with festive embellishments. The ambiance in the room becomes a delightful blend of shared amusement as you all work hard finishing them all.

Charles soon excused himself to his bedroom to gather a call regarding some car testing that happened earlier this week. 

As you were on the verge of releasing a hearty sigh, ready to vocalize your exhaustion, your attention diverted to the drowsy four-year-old near you. Her delicate features were gently pressed against the countertop, closed in the embrace of slumber. A wave of endearment washed over you. Suppressing a giggle, you marveled at the sheer adorableness of the scene, momentarily setting aside your fatigue to savor the precious sight before you.

Tenderly, you gathered her into your arms, cradling her like a precious bundle. With each careful step echoed through the familiar path leading to her room, where the soft glow of ambient light revealed the traces of a day well spent.

Arriving at her bed, you marveled at the cherubic expression on her face. Softly, you attempted to wipe away the remnants of flour that adorned her tiny arms and face, a silent acknowledgment of the shared joy in the day’s baking escapade. Deciding that it was best to let her sleep than to wake her to bathe her now. The sheets could always be washed later. In that quiet moment, you sat on the floor beside her bed, just smiling at her. The room became a sanctuary, where the gentle act of care echoed the love woven into the fabric of the night.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles stood silently in the doorway, quietly observing the intimate scene before him. A swell of emotion gripped his heart as he beheld the tender scene – there you were, alongside his daughter, the warmth of familial connection radiating from your shared moments. In that unspoken exchange, a poignant desire filled his heart, longing for the sense of family that seemed to effortlessly bloom in your presence. His heart was full of want for you.

“Sugar crash?” His voice, soft and unexpected, caught you off guard, prompting an instinctive flinch. As you turned your head, you found Charles slowly approaching, his tall figure standing gracefully behind where you were seated. His captivating green eyes remained fixed on you, their beauty holding a silent intensity, never once wavering from your presence. 

“Oui,” you softly smiled. “Je devrais aller nettoyer,” I should go clean up. You stood to your feet as Charles pressed a soft kiss to his sleeping girl and brushed her hair out of her face.

Back in the kitchen, it truly looked like a tornado had hit the room. Standing amidst the culinary chaos, you contemplated where to even begin when, suddenly, a pair of hands playfully seized your waist, diverting your attention.

“Tu me rends fou,” You drive me crazy.

His lips pressed softly into the swell of your neck, his tongue pressing against your cookie batter covered skin. “Tellement doux,” So sweet.

Your stomach clenched with butterflies as he spun you around, holding you close to him. Slowly, he brings his index finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping a speck of dough off you and bringing it to your lips.

He doesn’t even need to tell you before your opening your mouth, wrapping your tongue around his finger to lick it off. You stare up at him in the process, witnessing the color of his eyes darken as you release his finger with a ‘pop’.

“Je te rends toujours folle?” Still drive you crazy?

You observed the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing with a pronounced gulp. The veins in his neck stood out prominently, evidence of his teeth being clenched.

You slowly made your way to your knees, trailing your hands down his body, feeling his taut muscles through the confines of his sweatpants. You skillfully looped your fingers into his waistband, pulling them down to free his hard length. Not too far away, was some spare cookie dough on the island of the kitchen. To which, you reached one arm up and grabbed, spreading some of it onto him, a smirk graced your lips as you heard him groan. 

“Mon dieu,” My God. He physically had to lean forward, hunching over you, in order to grip the kitchen counter top as soon as your tongue met him.

You moaned at the taste of him and the cookie dough.

He half-chuckled as his hips bucked further into your mouth, chasing after his pleasure. He inhaled sharply, trying to relax, but you were eager and adamant on getting him there. You were so so so eager to please him. 

Your hand gripped him, collecting the spit on your fingers, spreading it all over his hot skin, while you suckled gently at his sensitive tip.

“Mmm, fuck,” He couldn’t get full words out as you sunk him deeper into your mouth, his tip scraping the walls of your throat. The burning in his stomach was rising as he watched you eagerly take every inch of him. You moaned at the taste of him, the vibrations pushing him even closer to the edge.

His face was completely flushed now as you bobbed up and down, essentially choking on him. Keeping your voice down, you pulled off of him again.

“Je te veux partout sur ma langue,” Want you all over my tongue. Your whimpery tone sent him over the edge almost instantly. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he repeated. The muscles of his arms bulging as he gripped the edge of the countertop tightly. Your eyes were wet with tears, but you were satisfied as he filled your mouth. Your tongue ran over the tip once more, licking up every drop, before he took a step back from you. 

You grinned lazily at him as you stood to your feet. His chest was rising and down deeply as he tried to catch his breath.

“Complètement fou,” Fucking crazy. He murmurs, pulling you in for a sweet kiss. 

“Il est temps de nettoyer!” Time to clean! You clap your hands together, devious to escape his touch. 

But you both know, that he won’t let you off the hook that easily.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hiii! I really like your works. Can I request Husk, Lucifer and Adam teaching their daughter how to fly?

A/n: dad's teaching their little babies how to fly.

•Husk•

Marylin was the one that refused to fly, unlike her brothers the little kit would often bury herself into her father's back or sit under his hat but to day was going to be different, Husk was going to make sure his little girl knew how to fly.

Holding the white ball of fluff in his hands, Husk placed Marylin on the bar top watching her. "Come on sweet heart....come fly to daddy." He smiled patting his chest as you stood by his side. Coltrane and Harry sitting on each of your shoulder.

Wrinkling her nose, Marylin looked towards you then her father. Her little wings twitching as she then let out a small mewl. Her body shaking as the wings started to flap, hovering for moment her tiny body then flopped back down on the bar top. A dramatic cry escaping her as Husk quickly scooped her into his arms.

"Oh baby it's okay, daddy will be your wings."

Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes turning your back as you made your way to the bed room. "You can't coddle her forever Husk."

"Yes I can!"

•Lucifer Morningstar•

Crying, Edna looked down at her father with tears in her eyes. Her wings twitching as she clutched the duck plush tightly in her grasp.

"I don't wanna!"

"But it's fun sweetie! And when Damien get's older you can help daddy teach him how to fly!" Lucifer did his best to cheer his little girl up. He hated seeing her cry, this was the last thing that he wanted. "See look at daddy! Daddy will fly with you."

Unfurling his wings, Lucifer hovered a few feet near his little girl as he held out his arms for her. "Just fly to daddy."

Lip's quivering, Edna sniffled as she slowly nodded her head as she struggled to fly. Her little wings flapping until she collapsed into her father's arms as she heard Charlie, Vaggie and you cheer for her.

"Did I do good daddy?"

Smiling, Lucifer placed a kiss to the side of your head. "You did wonderful Princess."

•Adam•

"Haha look at her go!! She's a natural."

Adam watched as his little girl zoomed around the room chasing off the Cherubs.

Sighing, you rubbed your eyes pushing the sleep away. From your daughters excited squeals to the terrified screams you knew you weren't going to get some sleep any time soon. "Why is she chasing the Cherubs?"

Scoffing, Adam shrugged his shoulders. "They woke her up by bein fucking annoying."

"Can you make her stop....I need some sleep." You muttered leaning into your husband's side nearly falling asleep on his shoulder.

"Anythin for you babe." Adam gave your hips a squeeze as he let out a whistle. "Sweet pea, come to papa, your mama is tired."

Stopping in her tracks, the little girl's wings twitched as she then flew into her father's arms with an excited giggle.

"Look at my little angel...just like her old man."

Humming you nodded your head as you gave your daughter a tired smile. "Good job sweetie."

[tojipie]

nurse geto my sweet <3

content: fluff, established relationship, can be read as fem or gn reader, angst, hurt/comfort

nurse geto whose shoulders stretch out the starchy blue material of his scrubs. whose shaggy hair cascades out of the front of his bun and over his forehead after a long shift.

whose happy trail peeks over his waistband just the slightest bit whenever you catch him stretching. smiling for his patients even though his permanent eyebags that stretch back to medical school offset his cheery demeanor.

nurse geto who has cute little charms fastened in the holes of the crocs he wears to work, little logos of his favorite bands. a “g” for himself, right next to your matching initial.

who keeps his wedding ring off due to sanitation restrictions, but always on his person so he can wear it as soon as his shift is over. who spends each and every lunch break with you, shit-talking the doctors and their pompous attitudes.

suguru loves the little ones. the sweet babies coming in for their annual checkups, the newborns in need of warm sink baths, and the tiny cherubs scared to get their first-ever flu shot.

the kids love him just as much, running to wrap their little bodies around his leg when it’s time to go, babbling out a “bye-bye mister” as their moms lead them by the hand out of the exam room.

suguru so badly wants to be a father. wants to spend the rest of his life protecting the sweet souls that come into his care. you don’t quite understand until the day he comes to you after one of his sweet little patients calls him “papa,” locking the both of you in a spare linen closet and sobbing into your neck for a good hour.

suguru is a kind man, an even better healthcare worker. but he gets attached too easily.

you tell him it’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong with having love for the little ones during their time at the hospital. you’ve had your fair share of heartfelt moments with the babies too, longing for them to stay just a little bit longer after their last checkup for the year.

he can’t help how big his heart is or how deeply he wishes to share it with a family of his own, how happy he looks every time a freshly born angel wraps their wrinkly hand around his finger.

geto suguru was born to be an amazing father, and you can’t wait to give that to him someday.

[nrhshm]

i want a fic of ace being a father to the little girl after she’s born 🥺🩷 i know he’d be the best dad in the world. i want it to be the FLUFFIEST fic on the planet (no pressure though <3)

Why hello there! My pleasure!!👋

. S/o is g/n

. Spoiler free

. Sfw

Ace as Father to his 4 year old Child (Imagine)

"Rock paper SCISSORS!" The two competitors glance at their significantly different hands.

"Haha!!! I win!!!" The little girl squeals in glee, as her defeated father fake-groans in defeat. He knows he can win the round quite easily, but would his heart bear seeing his 4 year old's droopy face after that? No way!!

Ace has devoted his entire life to keep his little cherub happy, even at the smallest moments he is around with her. To him, this little creature made everything he had valued, worthless, yet has shed it's light on a new purpose: To see her toothy chubby smile every. Single. Day.

"I win Papa! You're a dinosaur now!" She jumps in pure anticipation, knowing that her father had lost the bet.

The bet states that the loser of Rock Paper Scissors has to carry the winner around the ship until Thatch calls for dinner, which should be in... two hours!

"Upsies!!" She makes grabby gestures with her hands as Ace bends down to lift her up on his back. Almost immediately, she wraps her short, tiny hands around her father's neck.

"What are the odds??" Jozu gasps with heavy exaggeration. "I thought Ace would win!!"

"I wouldn't dare to imagine it. That is just, weird." Izo immediately replies. "Besides, y/n would rain hellfire on all of us, if such thing happens." Everyone deadpans at the thought of your furious form.

"Shhhh! She shouldn't know about this!! We're supposed to be sleeping!" Ace exclaims. (D/n)'s large black eyes, follow her dad's gestures, and tries to mimic them. "shhh!!"

Happy baby, happy father. You can clearly see Ace's wide smile whenever his daughter is around. Even if it involves going without his usual afternoon snacks, just to make her happy earning this victory, he'll do it with no hesitation.

Immediately after that, The whitebeard commander secures his daughter on his back, and goes around playfully attacking his other crew members.

"Dinosaur goes RAWRRR!!" He immitates.

"Rawrrr" His firefly cheers with a fist in the air.

You, on the other hand, watch the scene with an endearing smile. The urge to scold them has been far gone. Well, how can you?! When such a team of utter cuteness is doing the ship wonders of positivity. So far, Ace has been a great father to your child, considering how reluctant he was to have one. They both share the same fiery energy, and have the same gleeful smile that lights up your world.

You shake your head with a smile of your own. Oh, how lucky have you gotten...

[ninthcircleofprythian]

When You Wish Upon a Star

Azris - Azriel/Eris

Word Count - 1k

Warnings - tooth rotting fluff and domesticity, some sexual innuendo

Author's Note - Based off of this post - I thought about it. And then couldn't stop. Also big thanks once again to @tsunami-of-tears for the divider.

Azriel heard the door click and knew who it was without even opening his eyes. The soft padding of footsteps across the carpeted floor matched the pattern that he had memorized well over the years. He remained still, tall body lounging across the full length of the sofa knowing that his shadows had already given away that he was awake.

The air around him shifted as the shadows that swirled around his mate in greeting returned. With a heavy sigh, Eris folded his body and plopped to sit on the floor before the furniture. 

“Long day?,” Az drawled, eyes still closed but one scarred hand reaching out to caress Eris’ loose strands of hair. 

“Insufferably long,” Eris grumbled. “Who knew High Lords could throw such tantrums over the most minor of decisions.”

Azriel chuckled as he righted himself to sitting, feet planted on either side of Eris on the floor. “I don’t think that's anything new, my love.”

The tension in Eris’ shoulders bled away as those large scarred hands continued their ministrations stroking over his scalp and combing through his hair. “If it wasn’t for your influence as my mate I’m fairly certain Rhysand would have thrown the biggest tantrum of them all.”

Az could hear the smirk in Eris’ voice as he chuckled deeply once more. “Again, thats nothing new.”

Leaning back into the comforting touch of his mate, Eris hummed with satisfaction. Combing his fingers through the deep rust colored strands, Azriel brought his fingers to the nape of Eris’ neck with a gentle squeeze before gathering his hair and filling his palm with it. 

“Relax, my love.” His mouth so close to his ear, whispering soft and low, sent a shiver through Eris’ body. He closed his eyes and leaned further into the sofa behind him as Az began separating the strands into bundles. 

Slowly, Az smoothed out what he had gathered and with deft fingers began weaving over and under, pulling those glossy locks into an intricate braid. Only a couple passes later, the soft click of the door sounded once more.

“Daddy?” The tiny sleepy voice of their daughter broke through the easy silence. “You’re home.” Little barefoot feet approached, hands rubbing at drowsy eyes.

“I am,” Eris said as he gathered her cherub cheeks between his palms as she stood before him. “But you should be in bed. It’s very late,” Eris admonished gently as he pulled her face towards his own and planted a kiss to her forehead. 

She remained where she was, dark eyes staring between her parents, mind still foggy with interrupted sleep. Eris stared right back, eyes roaming over her features. Ones that seemed to have changed so quickly. No longer the soft round face of an infant but all too quickly shifting into the face of a child. While she wasn’t biologically theirs, no one could convince Eris’ heart of such a thing. The love he felt, the constant worry over her safety and happiness, the overwhelming urge to hold her against his chest and never let her grow up was entirely all consuming. 

“I want my hair braided too, Papa,” her voice broke through the reverie, pleading eyes now landing on Azriel.

“Just a minute, honey. Let me finish Daddy’s hair first.” His hands continued their steady measured weaving.

“Come here, pumpkin,” Eris said as he shifted into a crossed leg position. “I’ll do it.”

Seemingly satisfied with his offer, she turned around and planted her small body squarely into the well of Eris’ lap. Combing his long fingers through, he began to tame the tangles of sleep before he began.

Az continued working as his mind wandered. The braid itself didn’t need his attention as it was a long held custom within this household. Nights of elusive sleep, days of unending stress - they all seemed to end with Azriel’s hands in Eris’ hair one way or another. 

Taking in the sight before him, his mate folded elegantly along the floor, their daughter seated comfortably in his lap, Az couldnt stop the twist of melancholy in his chest. He had never dreamed that this would be his life and yet he wouldn’t change a single thing about it. 

“Daddy?,” that tiny voice sounded once more. “Why do you call me pumpkin? Is it because you are from Autumn Court?”

Eris huffed out a laugh. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way, pumpkin,” he answered with a kiss to the crown of her head. “It just seemed fitting, but I guess it must have something to do with being from Autumn.”

The silence fell once more just as Az reached the end of his braid. Pulling a thin leather tie from his pocket he secured his masterpiece with a smile and a squeeze to Eris’ shoulder.

“Is that why Papa sometimes calls you his shooting star? Because he’s from Night?” 

Az felt the shoulder beneath his hand tense just as he threw his head back in a surprised bark of a laugh. He could practically feel the embarrassed heat rolling off of his mate at the question.

“No, honey,” Az laughed as he wiped away a tear. “I sometimes call Daddy my shooting star because he gave me everything I could have ever wished for.” 

Whipping around, Eris’ eyes met the dark ones of his mate, so similar to their daughters. The smirk melted from his face into a soft look of adoration. “Very smooth,” his tone like velvet.

Turning back to the task at hand, Eris finished the tail of the tiny braid in his hands.

“There. All finished,” he patted his daughters side. “Now up, come on. Time for bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

Unfurling his legs and bracing on the scarred hand offered to him, Eris unfolded into standing, with Az following suit. 

“Good night, Papa!” Little arms threw themselves around his legs before Az lifted the tiny girl into his arms. 

“Good night – again.” With a kiss to her cheek, he planted her back upon the floor to follow his mate down the hallway. 

“I’ll be upstairs,” Az said as he pressed a kiss to his mate’s hand. “Waiting to make a wish on another shooting star.” With a sly wink and a smile, Azriel turned toward the stairs.

“Clever. Very clever.” Eris’ eyes twinkled as they narrowed on his mate. “I’ll have you seeing stars, alright.”

Throwing his head back, Azriel let loose a deep laugh. “I can’t wait.”

General Taglist -

@mybestfriendmademe

@lilah-asteria

@chairofchaos

@pit-and-the-pen

@prythianpages

[palesweetscherryblossom]

Sacrifice

(AU what if: What if Mythical Forest! Reader had no one and was sent out as a sacrifice? What if Dabi and Shigaraki were respected and feared rather than hated?)

Warning: (Mentions of violence, animal murder, brothels and the use of whore. Non consensual hypnosis)

Long ago, a deal between the nearby village and two nagas had been struck. In exchange for peace and protection from intruders, the nagas would have to receive food and protection fees from the village.

Until they made a seemingly unreasonable demand, they wanted a child. Not a virgin woman nor man, but a child. Shigaraki made his request known at the last exchange, his voice longing for a child to raise as his own.

“I don’t want one of those whores at your brothels, I don’t want your gold, I desire a child.”

His mate, the scarred one who declared himself as Dabi, echoed his mate’s statement. They couldn’t breed and have their own hatchlings, thank the gods for that, so they went with the next option.

The village elders refused that demand, how could they give up their kin to monsters? Had they grown a taste for human flesh?

Were Dabi and Shigaraki that heartless? Once the village denied their request, Shigaraki grew violent. All of the village’s livestock had been slaughtered, blood stained the green grass and the fences.

Some hunters were lured out of their homes and had their bones crushed and skin melted away by venom. Shigaraki had a simple request, why couldn’t they just answer it?

Dabi wasn’t exactly innocent either, he hunted down foolish humans like a feral beast and proceeded to kill them, like a feral beast. The village had no choice but to meet their demands, so Shigaraki could stop his violent temper tantrum.

The forest was dark as you were sent out, you whimpered at seeing the gates to your village shut. You were a measly orphan who certainly wouldn’t be missed, so you were perfect for this opportunity.

You hoped that the rumors of Shigaraki using child bones as toothpicks weren’t true. Sticks and leaves crunched and broke under your feet as you wandered aimlessly through the jungles, birds tweeting and distant howls of wolves filled your ears as you looked around paranoid.

Shigaraki watched as you stumbled around helplessly as he gave a little smile, oh you were utterly perfect. He slowly slinked out of his hiding spot, his tail slithering across the floor. “Hello my dear.” He said softly. You froze before yelping in fright. You stumbled like a newly born fawn as you gave a frightened whimper at seeing Shigaraki. His gaze softened as he got closer.

“Aw, little lamb, it’s okay. Papa is here.” He purred. You couldn’t help but begin to cry from the fear, which utterly broke Shigaraki’s heart. What did those rotten villagers say to you about him?

He had no choice but to work his hypnotic magic on you, forcing you into a state of relaxation and calmness. You ceased your cries as Shigaraki gently lifted you up into his arms. Dabi decided to slink out as well, frowning at seeing your relaxed state.

“You know that shit fucks with peoples brains.” He lightly scolded. “Oh hush, our baby was in clear distress. She needed to relax.” Shigaraki defended as he smiled down at you.

“She’s like a little cherub.” Dabi commented as he booped your nose. Shigaraki let out something akin to a purr before the two slinked together in the forest.

With their new baby in tow

[cmdrfupa]

Family Day

  You’ve turned a house into a home and a home into a sanctuary for Choso. He never thought he’d be given the gift of parenthood or love, so he wants to say thank you on an important anniversary.

Sfw, cute Papa Choso x reader. Fluffy, cutesy, teeth-aching sweetness. Reader called Mama but mostly gn.

a/n: I’ve been watching turtles go into the ocean after hatching, and now I’m here. Idk how I got here but we are here so let’s smile about it 😭

Weekends were meant to rejuvenate and catch up on the hobbies you neglect during the week. Waking up just in time for brunch and pajamas all day until time to get out of the enclosure.

Weekends for Choso were meant to play battle ninja princess and make pasta because his daughters wanted it for literally any meal when you weren’t around to say otherwise. He cherished the busy days as much as the calm ones. Running across town to toy stores and the bakery was his rejuvenation today.

“Mama would want the sprinkles!”

“Yea! Sprinkles! With the cereal, too, papa!”

“Make it five!”

With an apologetic expression to the cashier on his face, Choso took his wallet out of his fanny pack while using his free hand to massage his energetic children's heads gently.

“I’m sorry. Would you please give me two of each specialty donut and a dozen matcha macarons? Oh! And if possible, one of your full-sized ube mango tarts?” The twins exchanged "thank yous" to the cashier as Choso picked up the boxes, placing them in the stroller's attached storage bag before heading home.

It wasn’t a lengthy walk home. The weather, however, proved pleasant enough to go a longer route. Early summer was always more forgiving. The blossoming trees shadowed the ground, reprieve from the hint of heat. A soft breeze carried the delicate fragrance of blossoms and mowed lawns that lingered as Choso glanced in both directions before joining the group on the crosswalk.

“Papa. What’s a tart?”

“It’s like a pie but with less crust and more tasty filling like berries or custard.” Choso focused on the pathway ahead while answering.

“Who’s gonna eat the obey tart you got?”

Choso chuckled. “Ube, birdie. And Mama likes it. It’s her favorite.”

Saturdays started with the inevitable cuddle mountain attack from Ani and Nori once they realized it was a no-school day. This promptly led to them dashing around the house as ‘Papa Kong’ chased them until breakfast was done. Perfected chaos.

On this Saturday, things were different. Choso, with the twins accompanying him, instructed you to stay in bed as he ran a few errands. You didn’t even try to protest. You nodded, turning over to go back to sleep for another hour.

While you enjoyed the morning of reading with the humming humidifier in the background, you began to miss the sound of your rowdy duo and patient husband.

When you first met Choso and a teen Yuji, weekends were filled with nothing but noise as Yuji had his 2 friends over often. The liveliness around the house reminds you of those days when you watched the three having the “Is a hot dog a sandwich” debate in your cute little apartment back then.

“We’re back!”

“Mama!”

The energetic war cries sliced through the silence, and you sat your book down. “Well, there my little birdies are! Where did you all go?”

“We went to eat pasta! And we went to the park! Papa took us to get sweets!” Nori stated as she sat beside you, wrestling with her shoes before pulling them off.

“yeah! We got mac’rns and donuts! Ones with berries and sprinkles!” Ani added, setting her small bag down before she climbed into your lap.

You looked to see Choso heading to the sunroom. Curious, you attempt to get up, but Ani traps you with a toothy smile on her cherub face.

“No, no, sorry! Papa said to keep you here until he finished uh… Preppering for you!”

“Preparing for me?”

They nodded in unison, snickering with glee.

The raven-haired girls tugged at your heartstrings with their sweet existence. Spitting image of their father with you being seen in their mannerisms and warm smiles. “What’s happening with you three, hmm?” The pair smiled at you as they spoke in hushed tones about the super secret Kamo party in what could only be described as the loudest whisper known to man.

While your children were talking to you about the squirrel they insist said hello to them, a very familiar knock was suddenly heard at the front door. “Be right back, birdies.”

The knocking persisted, and you knew exactly who it was the moment you saw the pink hair through the door's frosted glass.

“Yuji! What on earth are you doing in town?”

Yuji embraced you tightly, his bag falling to the floor as he practically picked you up, his boyish grin never fading.

“Cho called me! He said he wanted to get together soon. Though maybe I should’ve asked when…”

“Nonsense! Now is the perfect time. It's so good to see you.” You gave his cheek a slight pinch as he closed the door behind him.

He gave you another hug, this time squeezing you like he used to when he was younger. The familial warmth set in as he pulls away, looking at you. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you all. It's been forever”

“It has been. And your nieces are going to be thrilled to see you.” On cue, the twin girls ran into the foyer, screaming with excitement as they jumped onto Yuji.

“You two have certainly grown. You'll be bigger than Uncle soon! Must be eating your veggies, hm?” They giggled as he kneeled down to be at their level, his new tattoos being their point of interest with shock and awe.

A few minutes into your mini-reunion, Choso appeared at the foyer entrance.

“Little brother!” His tone was warm, and his eyes were shining. Choso went to Yuji, kissing his forehead before subjecting him to the most suffocating hug he could. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. I’ll never miss the chance to see you guys!”

Taking in the energy from his most beloved people, he settled his eyes on the twins “Birdies? Do you mind leading the way to the back?”

“Uncle Yu, come on!” They both took one of his hands, you and Choso following behind.

  “Choso? What’s all this about?” Most of them being a much younger version of yourself and Choso; curiosity sets in as you scan over the various Polaroids that trimmed the hallway.

One in particular with you, Choso, and Yuji, eating ube tartlets after your graduation, catching your eye.

“Just wanted to do something for our family to celebrate today,” his lips landed a peck at the corner of your mouth.

“I’ve forgotten a holiday? Oh hell, Cho-cho, I’m so sorry-”

“Baby, you forgot nothing. It’s a new holiday.” Squeezing your hand, reassuring you, “One I declared and didn’t announce til today. So, do you remember what we did on this day 9 years ago?”

You pondered a moment. Your anniversary was a few months away, while birthdays were set for later in the year.

Hanging on the wall was a framed photo of Choso, Yuji, and you. Taken in front of your first apartment when Choso became Yuji’s guardian. It all clicked. “Oh Choso”

You paused at the opened French doors leading to the sunroom. Cherry blossom fairy string lights cross over the ceiling, highlighting drawings made by the twins. Sweets were arrayed on a table, and traditional tea was set in the center of the room. Yuji stood next to the setting, proudly looking at his brother's work.

“9 years ago, you stood right with me as I became his guardian. And you never left.” Yuji smiled on, remembering the moment when you welcomed him into your arms like you’d known him all his life. “You helped me grow. You became a figure in both our lives that we needed, and I haven’t properly shown how much I appreciated that.” Choso led you into the room, the girls sitting down as Yuji began to pour tea and plate their sweets. “You became my family and gave me the best gifts anyone could ever ask for.”

Speechless, you hugged him tightly, butterfly kisses to his now flushed cheeks before you looked around the room. Every detail from past dates to recent events in your lives is shown in the decor. “Thank you”

“Im pleased to say our first Kamo Family Day is officially here!”

Ani and Nori cheered as you sat with them, passing you the designated party hat as Yuji and Choso shared stories of their first years together.

Later that evening

  With both the kids and Yuji settled in for the night, you and Choso settled on the couch with the leftover tart.

Holding the fork out for him to take his bite, you peered over at him, deeply engrossed in the episode of Master Chef.

“I really feel like Gordon Ramsey would make me cry.”

“Hm?” you swallowed, trying to hide your laugh.

“I’m serious.” He glances over at you, low-lidded eyes showing a hint of melancholy. “Remember when the girls talked about how I did their space buns, which were all wonky, according to Nori? That haunted me for a week.”

He finally took a bite of tart and looked back at the TV. “Gordon would have me sobbing in our linen closet over how raw I like my burgers.”

You couldn’t help but grab the pillow, chortling into it. “I’ll protect you Cho, don’t worry.”

[agendabymooner]

ditty and estie greet the world || eo31 scenario

dad!esteban ocon x mom!ofc (british royal!ofc) ft. ocon!baby

POTENTIAL EXTENSION TO THE ROYAL RESEMBLANCE (SMAU)

Summary: Diana ‘Ditty’ Ocon made her presence known to the formula one world as a two year old during the FIA prize giving ceremony. Her sweetness, however, was what encouraged her parents Albertine and Esteban to show the world her capabilities as a shy toddler. 

Content warning: dad!Esteban content 😚, fluff, based on an idea I brought up to a moot, shitty French translation, Lissie Mackintosh segment, shy toddler being cheered on, OFC and baby resembles Princess Diana

Note: Having an Oscar Piastri brain rot atm but I need to get wholesome dad!F1 driver out of my system. I’m currently restraining my brain from writing more smut rn.

My friend would’ve gotten twenty dollars from me if Ferrari won this race but noooo they didn’t soooo. Enjoy xx

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

“Tu es très jolie, Ditty ! Maman t'a-t-elle habillée?” You look very pretty, Ditty! Did Mummy dress you up? 

“Mummy m'habille!” Mummy dress me! The little girl who sat on the Alpine driver’s lap grinned toothily at her father, babbling at her parents as she continued to speak, “Papa, rentre bientôt chez toi?” Go home soon? 

“Darling,” Albie laughed heartily, “Nous venons de quitter l'hôtel!” We just left the hotel.

“But go home soon?” Diana Marie-François Elisabeth Ocon-Khelfane, or Ditty to most, was a delightful little girl. Her great uncle Charles Spencer recalled his eldest sister’s childhood photos and how much resemblance did Ditty have to Princess Diana. Everyone in Esteban and Albertine’s family knew that, much like Albie, Ditty was a carbon copy of Diana Spencer.

Though if you were to ask anyone, Ditty was more like Diana than Albie was. Ditty was more reserved and shy— she had gotten her personality from Esteban, who often took a while to get used to new people before warming up to them. It was no wonder why Estie and Ditty made the bestest of friends— they liked to attach themselves to each other AND to Albie. 

“We’re not going home soon, pretty,” Albie told Ditty gently, fixing her daughter’s bow as the girl continued to look up with the brightest blue eyes to have ever existed. Her eyes, no matter how bright, were shaped like her father’s— so no one could really oppose and say that she wasn’t her father’s daughter. “Papa’s going to get his award soon, no? We’ll be there for Papa, Ditty.” 

“A- ‘wawd?” Ditty’s brows furrowed a little as she looked up at Estie with a puzzled look. “What is ‘ward?” 

“C'est quand vous avez fait quelque chose de vraiment, vraiment bien et que vous en obtenez quelque chose de bon,” It’s when you do something really really good that you get something good out of it. Esteban explained to Ditty with a grin. 

“Like you eating your veggies,” Estie continued. “What does Mummy give you?”

“Pain au choc’lat?” 

“Oui, mon bebe,” Estie nodded. “Except Papa’s getting something else. Not pain au chocolat!” 

Apparently, it was going to be a struggle— getting Ditty to socialize with everyone around them. It took Albie a while to unattach the toddler in her arms. 

Only for the girl to cling to Esteban as she hid her face away from the press and other people. She kept her hands wrapped around Estie’s neck as her blonde hair appeared in the pictures, journalists and photographers asking Estie and Albie to pose for the cameras. They didn’t relent, allowing Ditty to hide her little cherub face away for a brief moment as the couple waved and smiled. 

Albie, realizing that she had the little mouse plush on her hand (one that Ditty called ‘Cheese’), put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder gently and caught the toddler’s attention. “Want your friend Cheese, Dit?” 

Ditty lifted her face off her dad’s shoulder for a brief moment and nodded, “Mewci, Mummy,” before hiding away again. 

Estie and Albie exchanged looks and chuckled, amused at their daughter’s demeanour. 

“Ditty, bebe,” Estie told the girl, “Cheese wants to say hi to everyone. You want to wave too?” 

“Oh, I want to say hi, indeed, Papa!” Albie mimicked a different voice, as if she was pretending to be Cheese. “Pouvons-nous dire bonjour ensemble, Ditty?” Can we please say hi together, Ditty?

“See? He wants to wave— show him, like this—“ Estie smiled at the cameras and waved. Albie followed along, cameras flashing as they smiled. 

Slowly but surely, Ditty’s hand began to wave. She hadn’t realized that Cheese was on her hand, but she was doing what her Mummy and Papa were doing. That was enough for her. 

And when they reached the F1 host for the red carpet, Ditty went back to hiding. This time, she clutched Cheese in her hand as Esteban got interviewed by Lissie Mackintosh. 

“This is actually amazing— seeing you in P3 in the championship’s. I’m quite happy to see you become successful this season,” Lissie complimented Esteban. “Are you looking forward to the next one? Do you know what your next steps are?”

“I— I’m actually really excited for the next season,” Esteban grinned, not even aware that he’s carrying her daughter in his arms as he continued to answer. “With how things went with the car and successful communication between my team and I, I thought that it gave me more confidence to move on with the next season. And even if there will be a struggle, I know that we’ll be able to sort it out.”

“I like that,” Lissie nodded before she noticed the girl hiding away in Esteban’s arms. The host continued to ask regardless, “But for now you’re just here to celebrate your successes and you’ll be getting your prize for the P3. And I can tell that you’re here with your family too! How amazing is that!” 

“—Mrs. Albertine Ocon, it’s very nice to see you,” Lissie continued as the royal princess smiled and greeted back. “It’s been quite a handful this season, huh? I’m very glad to see you back in the Formula One celebrations and events— we’ve missed your presence in the paddock.”

“Ah yes,” the British princess chuckled, “just because I was gone for a while it didn’t mean I wasn’t doing anything.” 

“We all know that,” Lissie rolled her eyes playfully. “You probably had been working harder than your husband in here!”

“Hey!” Esteban laughed alongside the two women before he nodded in agreement, “Well, I can’t really deny that! This little darling right here was a hard work made by Albie and me but… Albie’s done more to help her grow, you know?”

Speaking of the devil…

Ditty Ocon finally grew tired of hiding away as she lifted her head and looked in front of her, cowering under the watchful eyes and camera pointed at her and her family before she hid again.

Esteban chuckled and reassured, “No, no, it’s okay, bebe! Just wave! Like we did!” 

Ditty, feeling a bit hesitant, waved lightly and continued to clutch Cheese the mouse in her hand.

“You look absolutely beautiful!” Lissie complimented the girl with a grin, trying to be as chill to allow the girl to grow comfortable with her. “Can you tell us what your name is?” 

Ditty looked at her parents as she hid her face from everyone, earning soft chuckles and a series of ‘awww’ from her surroundings.

Everyone already knew that she was Princess Diana in the making with the shyness that she showed everyone. 

But Esteban and Albertine Ocon weren’t about to let her meekness get in the way of her opportunity to be friendly to others. 

Esteban started, “It’s okay if you want to speak French, mon ange.”

He looked back at Lissie, “She prefers talking to people in French first before English.”

“Ah,” Lissie nodded.

“It’s okay, darling,” Albie cooed quietly, tucking the girl’s hair behind her ears as the princess continued, “they're nice people. We talk to them.” 

“Can you say… ‘je’…” Esteban instructed his daughter.

Ditty, with all her capabilities at the moment, had mumbled to the microphone, “Je…”

“Suis…” 

“Su’…”

“…Ditty.”

“…D—tty,” the girl mumbled with lack of confidence.

“Je suis Ditty!” Esteban repeated with a grin, his smile infecting the girl as she enthusiastically repeated this time with, “Je suis Di-tty!” I am Ditty! 

Rounds of applause were heard and given as they applauded the girl’s words. Estie and Albie both grinned as they praised Ditty.

“Good job, my girl!” Albie exclaimed with a wide, supportive smile. 

“Très bon, bébé!” Very good, baby! Estie hyped up Ditty as he clapped his hands. 

Ditty looked around her and grinned, her little hands now clapping as she clapped for herself.

Yeah… she could get used to this. Maybe her meekness will grow and she’ll become a confident girl like her mother and grandmother were.

All she needed was to be provided with endless support. This was what Esteban and Albertine Ocon were here for.

[pixlokita]

both wing!michael and wing!gregory look so cool and cute! i can imagine michael having full eagle wings, with strong protective wings over them, while greggy is just still tiny-wing but try to make papa michael proud... meanwhile, evan just have tiny cherub wings, just too cute to do anything else :·3

Absolutely he would have the smallest ones

IF!! they all had them TTwTT STOP TEMPTING ME!!!

[johnpriceslamb]

Hiii, i love your writing so much!! I just saw your requests were open and wanted to ask for a Ghost x fem!reader. Maybe she is sick and little and Simon has to take care of her. Of course only if you want to, no pressure. All your work is so adorable i just wanted to babble about it really (ˊᗜˋ) ♡

𝓢𝓘𝓒𝓚 𝓓𝓐𝓨𝓢 ,

˚₊‧꒰ you’re sick. And off in fairy-land. Simon takes care of you. ꒱ ‧₊˚

BEFORE YOU PROCEED ! ‧₊˚ ┊ littlespace ! reader . fem ! reader. afab ! reader. caregiver ! Simon Riley . sickiesickie reader :c . da snifliez . reader is mentioned 2 be physically smaller den simon . not proof-read . OOC !!! simon . 1.3k words

˚₊‧꒰ 🍼 ꒱ ‧₊˚ A sniffle and a sneeze.

That is what Simon had woken up to.

There you lay, sniffly and hiccupy at the far side of the bed. You sneeze again into a tissue. A teddy bear placed on your dainty lap as you whimper meekly.

You want to be held, but you don’t want to either. Hot and icky from the fever you have just caught.

You want papa.

You turn your head around- and only then does he capture you into his strong, warm, papa-bear arms. You’re not sure if you’re grateful about the heat he radiates and produce, but you’re clearly happy to be in his arms.

He squishes you as if you were just a little teddy bear. Your cherub cheek lies on his chest as you sniffle again. “Papa..”

“I know, I know luv.” He grunts softly, murmuring soft praises of affections in your ear- so much alike of sweet serenades being hummed. He presses a firm kiss on your forehead, “You stay ‘ere, yeah? I’ll make you some-

Clearly, you did NOT want him to go. As he stood up whilst mumbling, your hand clings onto his sleeves with a soft sniffle. This elicits a soft hum. Big beady eyes stare up at him, lashes dew-dropped with tears from the discomfort you were feeling as of now.

His heart pangs. He hates seeing you like this.

“Wan’ papa.” You simply state, shaking your head stubbornly. Clingy girl.

“Luv, I have to..” He trails on when he sees that sad look on your face. Much alike of a baby puppy seeing her owner at the door, closing it in front of her face. He clears his throat, calloused fingers coming to rub off the dew-drops that stain your chubby cheeks. For your sake and his, he has to be firm.

You begin to tear up again. Argh. He can’t do it.

Then- without a word, he grabs your fluffy burberry blanket and throws it over his shoulder. And he picks you up with the utmost care in the world- as if you yourself was just a porcelain puppy. Your little legs wrap around his waist, face in his chest, with arms around his broad shoulders.

“Papa.” You babble sweetly, nuzzling your cheek on his chest.

“Mhm. That’s me, bug.” A faint smile on his cracked lips is evident.

He plops you on the sofa, before wrapping you up in the soft blanket like a bunny nestled into its burrow.

“Y’want chicken soup with yoghurt or bananas, luv?” He calls from the kitchen.

You sneeze, peaking your head from the blanket to watch papa, “Mmm.. Yoghurt.” You hear a can being easily opened, and a slow pour to the ceramic bowls. The ones with the floral print. Your favourite bowl.

“Strawberry or.. Vanilla?” He asks with a gentle grunt.

You blink the sleepiness out of your eye. “Wan’.. Strawberry.”

You hear a low hum, indicating that he heard your little voice from afar.

You feel dizzy from the fever that had come to bite you. You feel miserable without papa. You let out a weak whimper from the sofa, “Paaapaaaa..”

“I hear ya, luv. I’m comin’ soon.” With a small plastic spoon and a bowl of chicken soup warmed up from the microwave, he comes to you with a stride brooding yet loving. He beckons for you to sit up, and you do so with a bit of trouble. You weakly crawl to him.

“‘Aaah,’ baby.” He cheekily coos. A spoonful of yummy chicken soup near your mouth. It oozes with a scent so homey and comfy, you eagerly open your mouth and allow him to put the spoon in.

But.. You droop.

You can’t taste it. At all.

You try to stiffen the tears that almost drip from your waterlines. It coats your wispy lashes as you blink multiple times to get rid of the dewdrops.

He looks at you with a sad frown, “What’s wrong, bug?”

With your frustration and sadness from just taking one spoonful- he notices, “Ah.”

“Can’t taste?” He places the spoon in the bowl to rub your head affectionately.

“Nuh-uh,” You shake your head sadly.

“‘m sorry luv,” He grabs the spoon and gently places it in your mouth again- and again, again. Until the bowl was empty, “At least you know it’s warm, yeah?”

You brighten up just a bit, “..Uhuh.”

“Warm just like your blanket,” A soft squish to your cheek. This elicits a hoarse giggle from your throat- and a soft sneeze.

“Still want the yoghurt?”

You look down at your fuzzy socks, tiny tots wiggling from inside out of pure boredom. “Uhm.. mhm.”

“Good girl.” He brings the yoghurt to your mouth. You can’t taste it, but at least it makes your throat feel just a bit better.

“Tummy full now..” You babble sweetly.

“Mhm? That right, bug?” Standing up to go put the dishes in the sink to wash up quickly, he does. He throws the empty yoghurt tub in the bin with a quick step on the pedestal of the trash-can.

“Luv?” He calls out for you from the kitchen-area.

“?” You peak your head from the blanket again, staring at him with those sleepy baby eyes of yours.

“Y’know I love you..”

Suspicious arises in your tummy. “..Uhuh.”

You squint your beady eyes, a tiny cough escaping your throat.

“And I want what’s best f’ you..”

“…Oki.”

“And.. you want what’s best f’ yourself, don’t you?”

Smart little girl you were. “Nuh-uh.” You don’t want to drink pills.

“Bug..” He frowns, “Just one.”

“It’ll make you feel much better baby, I promise you.” He grunts, filling up a cup of water. He feels bad for doing this- but for your sake.

You can’t help the whine escaping your lips. It’s hard enough to swallow things whilst sick!!!

“No no noooo,” You shake your head as he strides closer with the medicine. You try to back away, even holding the blanket closer to you, but you could not get out of this. Not one bit.

“..Yes, yes, yes,” He plops the medicine in your mouth and- dunks the water as soon as he could.

You sniffle and force yourself to drink it up. You shake your head vigorously, low pigtails bobbling about.

“Bad papa, bad bad..” You rub the sleep in your eye yet again.

He squints his eyes at you, “Oi.”

You meekly look at him, “Sorry..”

He softens up a bit, before pulling your burrito-wrapped self near his frame.

“You’ll be okay soon, luv.” And he presses a soft kiss on your forehead. A squeeze from his arms made you feel much better, as you rest your little head on him yet again.

“My good girl, so strong.” He grumbles out. The praise makes your cheeks bloom like a flower. Your papa-bear. With his warmth, you can’t help but shyly cuddle into his toned-self. You feel just a bit better since you were in his arms, and you were fed a yummy meal. But alas, the everlasting feeling of sickness always comes at you from behind, and catches you off-guard. It makes you broody and crabby.

“Daddy?”

“Mmhm?” He hums gently, watching you play with his much larger fingers.

“My tummy feels dizzy,” You hiccup.

“Dizzy?” He questions, amused.

“Uhuh..” A tiny ‘achu’ escapes your lips. A chuckle rumbles out of his chest at your little sneeze, which causes a glare sent his way.

“Not funny, papa.”

“Mm.. Just a bit, bug.”

[goodeapple]

someone could come love me, if somebody knew me (aemond t. pwp o.s.)

AS IT WAS PROMISED, SO SHALL IT BE BESTOWED.

"Aemond has a dragon dick, send tweet."

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : Pretty tame I'd say- handjobs, slight oral play, fantasy of exhibitionism, Aemond's dark little mind & his big ole dragon dick.

word count : 3,000+

title from "fue mejor", Kali Uchis & SZA

Ysilla’s line of sight darts to his crotch, peering intensely at the leather holding him in. She stares, gaze unbroken and unbothered, even as he fidgets under her scrutiny. 

“Can I see it?”

Her inflection is curious, lacking a lustful lilt and somehow, that makes this all the more humiliating. 

“I am not a thing for you to study, wicked girl.” The Dragon Prince snarls. He feels heat pulsate in his face. As if he is a monster, reduced to the oddity of his anatomy instead of the man, the scholar, the fighter he has fashioned himself to be by his own will and his own way. But now, he is nothing but a butterfly pinned in place as strangers pick him apart with a sickened curiosity. The socket of his absent eye aches wildly, a sympathetic partner to the abnormality between his knees.

“Pleaseee, Uncle.” His niece’s pleading compels her to her feet, her fingers lacing together to bring a begging fist under her chin. Her heart-shaped face is cherubic, lips parted in a prayer that Aemond wants to answer with his tongue. Or better yet, his cock. The vision of that, of him feeding every fat inch of his pole downdowndown her throat, until she would choke on him and make sweet tears roll down her cheeks… it seems so real, so well within his limits to make true. 

Aemond snorts, tossing her a disdainful look, one he musters from his very tangible dislike for her and those she holds closest. 

“Don’t beg, Silli, it doesn’t suit you. I said no- I’m positive you’ve never heard that before, but I’m not your papa.” His sneer twists his thin lips down, transforming his regal visage into something ugly. “I won’t give into your every whim just because you bat those pretty eyes at me.” 

Ysilla gazes blithely back at him, swaying on the balls of her feet. Her dress flutters around her ankles, the delicate chains wrapped around the fragile bone there catching the candlelight. She’s barefoot- curiously. Her amber satin slippers were shucked off at the door before she had sunk into the too big chair in the center of his room. To quite simply make herself comfortable- to carve out a space wherever she lands, is a trait Aemond finds irritating but commendable. 

At once, an impish smile illuminates her face, her irises lavender in bloom. “You think my eyes are pretty?” 

Aemond bottles in a groan, gritting his teeth in exasperation. Such a little brat. 

“That’s swell because… I think yours are pretty too, Uncle. Especially your hidden jewel.” Ysilla draws closer and closer, and the walls seem to cinch around them. She shouldn’t be here- he may be her blood but Ysilla is unwed and young and beautiful beyond her means. He should have sent her away when she came knocking, a small bound journal promising something of importance to him, her ticket into his den. Giddiness had manifested in the trembling of her fingers and he couldn't lie- he was intrigued. If only to watch Ysilla’s fire extinguish when he paid no thought to whatever had caught her fancy. 

“I dreamt about it last night. It adorned my crown- not my tiara- my crown as Queen. Nestled front and center, staring down any man, any woman, who kneeled before me. Guarding me, protecting me, loyal… to me.” 

Aemond puts desperate distance between them, her words striking a match within him.

Ysilla’s spiraling locks threaded through the Conqueror’s Crown, refined but still imposing, seated on the forged throne. Aemond gleaming in white, a striking savior at her side, first Lord Commander of the Queensguard. And even when he cannot be there, his jewel watches over all. An All Seeing Eye. He does not replace his surrogate orb. It be a piece of himself he shells out to shield her, and then, when they’re together, he’s comple-

The back of his knees meet resistance and he stills, refusing to bask in the jasmine gust brought forth by his niece’s closeness. She brings her palm to his jerkin covered chest and presses- urging, asking. Aemond stares down at her. She’s so tiny compared to him, so much smaller, weaker but she might as well have a blade to his throat.

He gives, settling into the armchair, wishing to become one with the buttons and the stitchings. When she drops to her knees, it is with a grace that is ingrained in her, blended into every shift of her body. 

“I want to touch you, Aemond. I want to make you feel good.”

Her hand creeps along, fingertips dancing over his clothed thigh, conquering the distance to his laces like a soldier riding through a battlefield. Aemond feels himself start to surrender, a loss he will still win as the heat from Ysilla’s palm leeches through the hide of his breeches. He’s warm all over, tongue heavy in his mouth, words too much to muster. Beads of sweat lick their way down the nape of his neck. 

Ysilla stares at him, her chest level with his knees. There’s too much light in here. He can see every delicious inch of her. No shadows to hide in, no darkness to dim her. She’s all propped up and on display in the late evening sun beaming through the balcony doors. Every beauty mark dotted along her spun sugar skin is penciled in by hand from the Gods, each strand of blackblue hair dancing away from the heat of her blistering surface. It makes this dream too real. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he blinks and she blows away like a puff of smoke. He breathes out, nerves spiraling in his stomach and spreads his knees. 

Aemond doesn’t make a habit of looking at himself. He washes and dresses with a detachment perfected over the years. When he realized how he differed, when his voice dropped and his bones stretched him to the brim and something else grew right along with him, he had floundered on how to handle it. 

Who was he supposed to ask? His mother was out of the question- Aemond would rather crawl through smoldering embers after scooping out his other eye before he went to her. Aegon was self explanatory; his brother’s failed attempt to drag him down the Street of Silk was enough humiliation to last a lifetime. He toyed with the idea of going to Ser Criston or his grandfather, and some days it did seem tempting but his shame always held him tight by the throat. He was already different, already looked down upon with a pitiful gaze and whispered poor Prince Aemond, such a waste and no eye, no prospects, no future. He didn’t feel like piling on to his already stacked deck. 

“You have to… yeah, and then untie me from, right, just like that.” The back of his eyelid and the pitch of his patch are a comforting darkness as he cycles through the prayers in his head. Warrior, grant me the strength to emerge- no. Mother, I ask your mercy- definitely not. Father, may you judge me justly. Yes, it’s solid, spans the points he needs to make. Aemond settles on it and repeats it, backwards and forwards as the tension imprisoning him in his breeches releases and he feels something spring up and off the flat plains of his abdomen.

“Aemond… Uncle, look at me.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, ending his litany. It’s no use, his Gods are not listening. He hopes, he regrets, and he caves as he looks down at his lap.

The tip of it curves into a point, not sharp but defined. Blunt thickness runs through his shaft, until the base of him flares garishly into a hard knot. It’s as long as his forearm and thicker than his wrist. He always seems to be at attention, at mast at every surge of adrenaline, every lingering puff of perfume, every dashing neckline of Ysilla’s gowns when she curtsies- no, reign it in. A viciously red mushroom-tapered head splits to allow a bead of excitement to form and trickle down the lengthy march to his stones. He winces, his cock giving a readied pulse as his niece’s palm settles over his groin. 

“Oh, Gods,” Ysilla looks upon him with a wonderment he’s never seen. It stills the air in his lungs. “Aemond, you’re beautiful.” 

Shamefully, that sends him whimpering, the honeyed praise in her tone wrapping him in a caress that stokes the heat in his belly. She glances up at him with a gentle curiosity, but her attention quickly returns between his legs as he jerks from her proximity and the damp warmth of her exhaling breath. 

“Ooohhh, he’s happy to see me.” Her grin is wicked, a toothy pluck of her mouth. Her cheeks are pinker than the Dornish dress Baela gifted her on her nameday last week. 

Cheeky brat. 

Ysilla hocks spit into her hand and Aemond grimaces. Being raised with only brothers has certainly left an impression on her. It's not oil but it’ll do in a pinch. Her fingers are lithe and thin, hands dainty already but seeing one trying to wrap around him? It’s laughable. It’s arousing- painfully so. 

“You didn’t let me finish earlier.” Now that he has nothing to do but listen, his crafty little niece seems to have taken advantage of his predicament. Aemond can’t help but feel a tiny bit impressed. “So when I found the book in the Dragonstone stacks, after I cleaned off the layers of dust, I read all about the many men in Targaryen history who have been… afflicted by this… hardship. Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel- which may have played a part in the six wives- but the last documented entry was well over 50 years ago. A tale forgotten to time and dismissed all the same as just another peculiarity with our family. But this Aemond…” she pumps him slowly, demanding his attention, making him bow for her even when she’s the one on her knees. 

“We are closer to Gods than to men. By our dragons of course, but by this as well! You are something special, can’t you see that?” He likes to hear her excited. Her passion is appetizing, drawing him in to take a bite.

His ego perks up at her attention, but so does his pride. Dragons don’t like to share. Aemond doesn’t like to share. “How do you know if it’s not just me who's been ‘afflicted’?”

Ysilla shrugs, and he doesn’t know her well enough to tell if she’s being untruthful. “I’m very thorough in my research. Just not as quite… hands on as I’m being with you. You’ve always been my favorite uncle.”

Aemond could take her by the hair, twist it nice and tight around his fist, rise to his feet, keep her down on her knees where she belongs- not just there but with him and thrust down her throat until he taps her heart.

“Did you ask my brother the same way you’re asking me?” Aemond growls, nudging at her knee with the side of his boot. He wants to touch her but he has to be careful. His resolve is thinning by the minute and he fears that if he can actually feel her- the suppleness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, he’ll give way and start something that cannot be undone. 

“Nope, I asked Helaena. Girls talk, Aemond, especially over a flagon of wine.” She elbows his thigh in retribution, but it’s gentle and frivolous and the smile she gives him is all teeth. Fuck, she’s lovely. 

Aemond’s hips jump off the chair, chasing the heat of Ysilla’s hands. She smirks, stroking him softly, the delight in her eyes dimming down to lusty pools of amaranthine.

“So you’re doing this out of what, kindness?”

“I like to think of it more as academic curiosity. But, if I can help you become more comfortable with this part of yourself and maybe even aid your future wife in the process, well that’s just all sugar then, isn’t it?”

“I won’t marry, I will bear no children. I might as well take the Black.” Aemond recites, his tone bored to tears. His future fizzled out to ash once he realized there was no way in any Realm that he could ever properly lay with a woman. He couldn’t, wouldn’t damn any wife to a hopeless tomorrow. Occupying himself with other things helped- he’s a resourceful man. After all, great men never got anywhere by thinking with their cocks. 

Ysilla’s brow furrows and her jaw ticks, an unhappy look passing over her face. “Never say never, Aemond.”

His dick pulses, and Ysilla’s eyes go wide, feeling the might of him in her own grip. She raises her gaze back to this face, and the dazzlement there makes him feel taller than tales. 

Aemond smirks, his straight laces loosening. “I like when you call me that.” 

She pumps him, tightly, and he shivers, a gasp slipping through his drooping jaw. There’s a burn at the base of his spine, a familiar one he would entertain only when his needs raged a war within him.  

Her lips are pouted, shimmering in the dusk drawing the room into darkness. He wants to see the stars sparkle over her skin, the moon crest over her breasts in a gauzy beam. Wants to peel off every offending layer until she’s naked, slick and soft and starving for him and the beast between his legs. 

A stranded curl sways in front of her eye, caught in her fanning lash. His fingers twitch, starting forward before he anchors his nails through the furniture’s stuffing and right down to the frame. Ysilla’s tongue flicks out, wetting her parched lips.

“Do you want to touch me?” 

She wears the crown as she rides him, the Throne Room’s chandelier haloing her dramatically. He’s not sure if they’re alone- the embrace of her hand about his throat keeps his attention on where it is demanded. On her. If there are any stragglers stupid enough to hang around, what an honor it is for them to witness a mating, a claiming. The Dragon Queen taking what’s rightfully hers, for the Gods and everyone to see. 

“No.” 

“You’re a liar, my Prince.” That’s even better than his name, fuck him. 

“I think you want to touch me. I think you want to feel me. I think you want to see… just how far… I’m willing to go.” One solid lick of her tongue, from the root of him to the tip, sends him careening over the edge. Aemond gasps raggedly, a man broken apart. His cock jerks, nearly knocking him in the jaw. Thick ropes of creamy pearl stripe his chest and coat his throat. 

His niece milks him, left hand rubbing up and down his shaft, feeling the veins jump and throb against her palm. And the right, fucks sake, the right squeezes around the flared part of him and the tremors jolt right down to his sack.

“Mmmm, good boy, Aemond.” 

A final burst of cum bubbles up and over the tip of him, and he tries not to shout. Sweet relief blankets the scald from his peak, and the Prince can breathe with a newfound ease.

Ysilla spreads her fingers apart, and his spend webs between them in a milky film. Aemond can’t be sure what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling. But what he certainly doesn’t expect is for her to bring up her fingers to brush at her mouth, plush lips spreading to peek out her tongue. He catches her wrist before she can commit the act, and if he bruises her with his grip, she deserves it for her lustfulness. 

“Don’t.”

Ysilla studies his face, weighing if she can push her luck some more tonight. She concedes, peppering a butterfly kiss across his knuckles, wiping her soiled hand on the fur under her knees. Aemond’s chest tightens and he can’t understand why her simple kiss sends him blushing more than her fist around his cock. 

“Next time, then.”

Hunger nips at him harshly, all the ways they can come together, and cum together, flashing through his mind. 

“There will be no next time-”

“Mmmm, I don’t know if he agrees with that.” She presses her puckered lips just shy of his wet slit, and his hips buck from the sensitivity. Her giggle is demented and a dark part of the silver prince wants to push something down her throat to shut her up. 

“Don’t you have something better to waste your time with? Aren’t you supposed to be looking for a husband?” Aemond rumbles, slouched in his seat. All tension drained from him, his legs weak and wobbling from the force of his climax. He feels as if he is up in the clouds, no dragon necessary. 

Ysilla sniffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a twist. “I will marry whomever I tell my mother I have accepted. And if no one has caught my eye, we will try again next year.” 

She maneuvers him back into his breeches, and if Aemond were a lesser man, he’d whine at the loss of her smooth touch. The leather suffocates him immediately and it feels so wrong. 

“Who better to guide me in the art of pleasing my husband,” Ysilla looks deep into his eye as she speaks the title, and the Prince feels caught, “whomever that may be, than you? No mere man will ever compare to you, in this aspect.” Ysilla finishes his laces off with a bow, hands tucking behind her innocently as she sits back on her toes. 

“In any aspect.” Aemond thinks he means to snarl in a self-righteous manner, but it’s clear to his own ears what he intends. The thought of Ysilla being on her knees for another, warm and wanting and welcoming for someone that is not him, blazes him with envy.

Ysilla beams, and Aemond feels like a trout swallowing the worm- hooked, reeled, and gutted.

“I’m glad we have an agreement then.”

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