#but i couldn't resist giffing her

[isabelleadjani]

LINGLING KWONG in makeup by homeless_makeupb

[bisexualfbiagents]

THE X FILES | Beyond the Sea (1.13)

[joshoconnaissance]

GILLIAN ANDERSON as MEREDITH PLAYING BY HEART (1998) dir. Willard Carroll

[pocketgalaxies]

Welcome home, Fearne. (requested by anonymous) bonus:

[theyilinglaozus]

Zhao Lusi as Duanwu → The Story of Pearl Girl, episode 17

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[saucysonnetts]

sofia huerta: ultimate time waster

[qveenpoppy]

donna murphy liked one of my instagram comments on a brilliant minds clip 🥰

[victorluvsalice]

Happy Birthday WeirdKev!

@weirdkev27 Here is your requested fic, the VTMB versions of Philliane Tropy and Zan Owlson being interviewed by a film crew a la What We Do In The Shadows! It's not EXACTLY like the TV show, I admit, but I think it has the right vibes, anyway. Hope you enjoy!

--

[cut to: PHILLIANE TROPY, a well-put-together Ventrue with pale blond hair, sporting a pink suit and a bright smile that looks entirely genuine – at least for the moment. She is seated behind a large desk of the exact type you imagine any CEO having, hands folded on the desktop]

TROPY: Oh yes, I know what a lot of the other Kindred say about me, and it’s simply not true. It’s not that I don’t respect any of them – it’s that I only respect the ones that I feel deserve to be respected! It’s not my fault that the ones who most insist on respect are the ones least deserving of it.

[she adjusts her position in her chair, leaning back slightly with a more thoughtful look]

TROPY: Take, for example, a Prince of my recent acquaintance, one Sebastian LaCroix. Fellow Ventrue, installed by the Camarilla in downtown Los Angeles after they swept in to help the Anarchs repel an invasion by the Wan Kuei.

CAMERAMAN: [sound of ruffling paper] Sorry, hang on – we thought they were fighting the Kuei-jin?

TROPY: I’ve heard both terms, and after making some inquiries, I’ve learned they prefer Wan Kuei. So that’s the term I’m going to use. [shrugs] Might as well not make relations any worse, right? Anyway, I understood that becoming Prince of Los Angeles – the heart of the Anarch Free States – is an inherently stressful position. You are under a lot of pressure to make a good impression and do your job well! All without pissing off the locals. But Prince LaCroix...

[she sighs heavily and rolls her eyes]

TROPY: Well. His handling of his new domain left something to be desired. Zan knows all about it, don’t you Zan?

[cut to: ZAN OWLSON, Trophy’s top ghoul and known lover, a dark-skinned woman with a curly Afro, large eyes, and an intelligent demeanor, sitting on a nearby couch. She nods in a very world-weary way]

OWLSON: She called me so many nights to bitch about him – I can say “bitch,” right?

CAMERAMAN: Yeah, if we need to, we’ll just bleep it in post.

TROPY: [laughs as the camera goes back to her] Oh, it was definitely bitching, I admit it! Poor Zan, I kept her up at night, and not for the fun reason...but really, the things he pulled were outrageous!

[she leans forward in her chair, the humor in her face gone]

TROPY: Like, listen to this – he had an illegal Embrace in his domain, and not only did he initially try to kill the fledgling along with her sire – never mind it wasn’t her fault she was turned without permission – he then turned the poor girl into his woman-of-all-work without giving her the slightest bit of education on what being a Kindred meant! He had her running around all over the damn city, doing things like blowing up Sabbat warehouses and investigating plague cults – things that no fledgling should be doing on their own! And he wasn’t even paying her a fair wage for her work! Every ghoul on my payroll earns more than she did, with benefits beside – and they’re almost all office workers! I had to step in and give the girl the money she’d rightfully earned! Let me tell you, LaCroix didn’t like that!

CAMERAMN: [sounding confused] Yeah, bet he didn’t, but – hang on, back to the thing about your ghouls. Don’t you usually pay ghouls in blood? That’s what all the other Kindred we’ve interviewed have said.

TROPY: And they wonder why I don’t respect them! [smacking a hand on the desktop] Blood doesn’t pay the bills! Blood doesn’t keep a roof over a ghoul’s head! The monthly drink from your domitor is a health benefit at most!

OWLSON: [off-camera] Philli has strong opinions about this.

TROPY: [sour-faced] It just agets under my skin that most Kindred consider making sure their ghoul stays a ghoul is sufficient payment for the work they do. No, making sure your ghoul stays a ghoul just ensures that they can keep doing the work. They deserve proper pay and benefits beyond the retention of their ghoul status.

CAMERAMAN: [with a soft chuckle] You almost sound like you want there to be some sort of “ghoul union.”

[TROPY stares directly into the camera for a moment – then her face splits into a wide smile]

TROPY: That – is a brilliant idea. Zan, do you think we could start one up?

OWLSON: [off-camera] I mean, I’m willing to try – but there’s going to be a lot of pushback from the other Kindred with ghouls around.

TROPY: [grins, showing off her fangs – and looking truly dangerous for the first time during her segment] Fantastic. I’ve been looking for an opportunity to throw my weight around.

[secret-code]

》 seoyeon » rising 230219 ♡

[doctahpants]

thank you for the long rambling thoughts on that post with the graveyard kiss scene i really enjoyed reading them 🫡

🫡 I will take any excuse to write rambly thoughts! I'm glad you appreciated them!

[rafecameronssl4t]

Deal or deal? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @rafeyscurtainbangs

Summary: inspired by this scene in ep 4 but with my own twist and it’s dad!rafe x reader w/ Mabel 😍

Warnings: nothing rlly!

Word count: 1,075

A/n: hey so um I caved in couldn't resist writing at least one fic w the new season during my break...

MASTERLIST (dad!Rafe au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

You walk into the ensuite bathroom as you adjust Mabel on your hip. Her little hands curl around your shoulder, her head nestling against your neck. The soft scent of baby powder clings to her skin, and despite the busyness of the morning, there’s always something calming about her presence. Rafe stands by the counter, packing the beach bag with towels, sunscreen, and toys, his movements relaxed yet purposeful.

He looks up as you approach, his sharp blue eyes softening. “You’re just in time,” he says, zipping the bag with a quick motion and setting it aside. You smile back, setting Mabel in her bouncer next to him. "Thought I’d let you handle the sunscreen part," you tease, brushing your fingers gently over Mabel's soft curls. Rafe chuckles and kneels beside her, his large hands dwarfing the bottle of sunscreen as he carefully squirts a bit onto his fingers.

"Alright, princess, we don’t want you burning up, do we?” he murmurs, gently applying the cream to her chubby cheeks. His touch is so soft, filled with care, as Mabel giggles, her tiny hands reaching for his face. You smile, pressing a kiss to the top of Mabel’s head. She gurgles happily, her tiny feet kicking as she looks around, wide-eyed and curious. You turn away, heading toward the closet where your bikini is draped over a chair. The fabric feels cool in your hands as you slip it on, the rich colour contrasting with your skin.

“So,” you begin, your voice casual but carrying a note of seriousness, “I was thinking… about that business opportunity that came up last week.” You glance over your shoulder as Rafe’s eyes flick up from Mabel, curiosity piqued. “The investment thing?” “Yeah,” you say, fumbling a little as you try to tie the back of your bikini. “I really think you should go for it." He stands, moving closer, his eyes shifting between your face and your chest as you adjust it.

"Turn around," he mutters, his hands brushing against your back as he pulls the strings into a neat knot. His fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary, and when you glance at the mirror, you catch the way his eyes roam over you—an intensity in his gaze that sends a slight shiver through you. "You really think it’s that good of a deal?" he asks, his voice low, his hands hovering at your waist. You meet his gaze through the mirror, feeling the heat of his hands lingering at the small of your back.

"Yeah, don't you?" You adjust the bikini strap on your shoulder. His hands drop to rest lightly on your hips, and for a second, he doesn't' respond. Lightly biting your lip as you wait for a response, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a slight smirk playing on his lips. His eyes stay locked on you, a mix of thoughtfulness and something more. "I think you should go for it." Rafe’s eyes darken with thought, but his smirk doesn’t fade. He pulls you a little closer, his grip firm but gentle, his chest pressing against your back.

“God, this is just landing right in my lap, isn’t it?” His tone is a mixture of amusement and consideration. You give him a playful look over your shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been saying. You’d be stupid not to take it.” He chuckles, his breath warm against the side of your neck as his lips brush against your skin, slowly at first. “You always know how to push me in the right direction,” he murmurs, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a warmth down your spine.

His hands glide up from your hips to your waist, pulling you just a little closer. You let out a soft breath, your heart quickening as his kisses trail lower. "You could make so much freakin’ money, Rafe,” you say, your voice a little breathless. Rafe grins against your skin, “Could I, now?” His voice is a teasing drawl as his lips move along your skin, causing a ripple of warmth to spread through you. You laugh softly, leaning back against him. “I’m serious!"

“So am I,” he whispers, his kisses slow and deliberate. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, his touch firm but tender. But just as you start to sink into the moment, Mabel lets out a whine, breaking through the intimate bubble. You both pause, exchanging a look before bursting into quiet laughter. Rafe pulls away first, shaking his head as he glances at Mabel. “Perfect timing, huh?” he says, his smirk playful but affectionate.

You walk over to Mabel, scooping her into your arms as she quiets down instantly, snuggling into your chest. “Guess we’re not the only ones who need attention,” you joke, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Rafe grins, his eyes following you. “She’s just jealous,” he says, tossing a towel into the beach bag. Rafe smirks, watching the two of you, his earlier intensity replaced with something softer. You laugh, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms as she grabs onto your bikini strap with her tiny hand.

“Can you blame her? You spoil me,” you tease, glancing up at him. Rafe leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll think about that deal,” he says, his voice a little more serious now. “Sounds like it could be good… for all of us.” You nod, bouncing Mabel lightly in your arms. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, brushing Mabel's hair. Rafe steps closer, wrapping one arm around your waist, pulling both you and Mabel into his chest as he presses a soft kiss to your head.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “We’ll see.” You can tell, though, from the determined glint in his eyes that he already knows what he’s going to do.

[fayes-fics]

Eden

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Seeing you with other Bridgerton offspring has an interesting effect on your new husband...

I couldn't resist using a Season 3 gif cos hello.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, breeding kink, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, ie filthy babymaking. Also, the smut is bookended by fluff; yeah, that probably needs a warning, lol.

Word Count: 4.2k

Authors Note: This is a very belated request fill for @victoriaholland (HERE) and Anon (HERE) about Benedict with a touch of baby fever. I decided to combine the asks as I saw a way to weave them together. Sorry for the delay, but well at least babymaking seems appropriate for spring hehe. Thank you to @colettebronte for being an awesome beta, as always. Err, Enjoy! <3

Daphne’s latest child is beautiful; you delight in his joy as he bounces on your lap, learning the strength of his sweetly chubby legs, little fists wrapped tight around your fingers. 

Looking up, you catch your husband's eye from afar, his stare intense across the gardens of Bridgerton House as you sit under a tented shelter upon a picnic blanket. The rest of the family are scattered around, playing games or chatting, but you are quite content minding the little one while his nanny takes a few moments to eat lunch.

“Is everything alright, my love?” You inquire as Benedict draws closer. 

“Yes… I….” He seems a little flustered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You pull a funny face for the infant, who breaks out into the most adorable infectious giggles that has you grinning from ear to ear and hugging him into your body, swaying with him. 

“Are you alright? Minding the child?” He checks, his voice a touch odd.

“Oh yes. We are more than happy, are we not, my little prince?” You talk in a vaguely silly baby-talk voice, addressing the child in your arms as much as Benedict. 

Again, the child peals with delighted noises and spit bubbles enthusiastically, looking up at Benedict eagerly as much as you do.

“Well, that is wonderful news,” he blusters, and you could swear he is out of sorts, breathless almost. “I shall… leave you to it,” he adds, giving you a bow and then withdrawing as the little one wiggles out of your arms.

“Ignore your Uncle Benedict; he is being a silly billy,” you whisper conspiratorially once the man in question is out of earshot.

The response is babbled nonsense as the child bashes one wooden brick against another.

“I quite agree,” you state sagely before breaking into a goofy grin.

——

“Please?” Hyacinth wheedles.

“No, Hy,” you sigh without even looking up.

“Ugh, you are no fun!” she scowls, crossing her arms defiantly.

“What is all this?” Anthony clips as he strides into the drawing room, Benedict on his heels, as Hyacinth flounces dramatically across the room. 

“Your little sister is angry at me because I will not allow her to drink the punch; it has brandy in it,” you explain cooly.

“Quite right, too!” Anthony chimes as Hyacinth rolls her eyes.

“Listen to y/n, Hyacinth, and do as she says,” Anthony lectures, and you feel grateful for his support, effectively neutering her rebellion. “Despite a temporary lapse of judgment when choosing a spouse, she is otherwise one of the most sensible people in this family.”

“Hey…!” Benedict protests.

“Please…” Anthony withers, twisting towards him. “Brother, if there is one thing us Bridgerton men know how to do, ‘tis to marry a woman entirely too good for us. And well done on that, by the way.”

You smirk at Anthony’s hilarious way of putting his brother - your husband - in his place, catching Kate’s eye with a wink as she enters the room carrying her baby. 

“Y/n, come and meet the future Viscount; he’s awake at last,” she calls to you. 

You are immediately on your feet and grinning, taking the tiny bundle from her arms and cooing at the sweet little boy. The baby opens his enormous brown eyes and observes you for a second before breaking into a one-toothed grin and happily waving his fists at you.

“Oh, he really likes you!” Kate enthuses, delighted.

“As I do you, little one,” you smile, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

You look up to see Benedict with that same look on his face as earlier. A tempest, almost an energy over his being. It’s almost as if he is… aroused?! Which is most odd.

As you hand the baby back to Kate, giving him one final kiss, Benedict is suddenly by your side. Announcing to the family that there has been a change of plan and, regrettably, you will not be able to stay for dinner, his arm an insistent tug around your waist.

——

“Why did we not stay for family dinner as originally planned, my love?” 

Your question is soft, only just audible over the noise of the carriage as you trundle over the cobbled streets of Mayfair a few minutes later. 

“I decided that we should perhaps dine at ours this evening…” his voice adopting that deeper edge which always causes butterflies in your tummy. His hand lands on your knee, a heavy weight that feels portentous. He slides closer on the bench seat.

“Why might that be?” your ask turns breathy, entirely without you meaning it to.

“I want to be alone with you,” he murmurs, unmistakably pitched to arouse. 

The carriage seems to notch up a few degrees as the rocking motion presses your side rhythmically into his. The sound of the wheels and hooves is so loud. He twists to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pulls your back against his flank. 

“All day today, I have watched you,” he rumbles, hand warming the skin around your clavicle, fingertip brushing in circles. “You are so very good with children, darling. Seeing you so naturally with the babies and how you handled Hyacinth… you would be the perfect mother.”

You blush a little at his praise. “Thank you, my love. I would like children one day. Your children. Imagine a child with your eyes. They would be quite the most beautiful,” you sigh wistfully, leaning back into him, his hand feeling heavier on your skin.

Benedict chuckles modestly. “And what of your beauty? Would a child version of you not be the most fetching?”

You giggle and turn your head sideways to nuzzle against his jaw. “I think we would indeed make beautiful babies together, Benedict.”

“I agree,” his voice a tempting lilt, fingers skating downwards over the swell of your breast now, slipping inside the fabric and making you gasp as he tweaks your nipple. “And I think we should start as soon as we get home.”

“Did seeing me with babies suddenly make you want your own, Mr Bridgerton?” Your hand flexes on his knee as he toys with your breast.

“Oh yes darling, it made me want to take you right there…” he asserts, finally admitting those looks he gave you were indeed pure arousal.

You reach up and run your hand into his hair, fingers flexing on his warm scalp as you pull his face to yours.  “And suddenly, it appears I am no longer hungry for dinner…” you whisper flirtatiously, your cupid's bow brushing his stubbled upper lip.

He groans, and his passionate kiss is plundering, a tingle running over your limbs, just as your carriage comes to a shuddering stop outside your townhome. 

Uncaring of the neighbourhood or any prying eyes, Benedict sweeps you out of the carriage in his arms, carrying you bridal style over the pavement and through your front door.

“My wife and I are not to be disturbed,” he announces crisply and loudly to the staff as you enter the hallway.

Leaving no room for doubt about his plans by pulling you into a searing kiss for all to see before ascending the stairs rapidly. He practically growls as he kicks open the door to your master bedroom door and slams it shut again with his foot. 

“Benedict…” you stammer, heart pounding at how overwrought he is. 

You have never seen him like this. Commanding, crackling with an energy that has your body simmering. He is usually so sweet, affable, and kind. Every time you have been intimate since your wedding night a few weeks ago, he has been a complete gentleman: loving and so very tender. The grip he has had on you tonight feels different. This is something primal—like a switch has been flipped at a basal level in his being.

He places you down onto your feet before the roaring fire, his face intense.

“Wife…” The way he says it makes you feel a flush creep over your skin.

“Husband…” you respond in kind, belly fluttering with excitement.

“Take off your dress,” he orders, his dilated pupils shining in the firelight.

This is new. Usually, he is the one to remove it slowly and softly from your body. 

“I cannot, the buttons…” you confess, signalling behind you. You would need your ladies' maid to unhook them from between your shoulder blades.  

He moves closer, seeming so much taller; his ragged breaths dance in the tendrils of your hair as he reaches around behind your shoulders. With a rough tug that makes you startle, he tears the fabric asunder, the sound of tiny pearl buttons skittering across the polished wooden floor behind you as you gasp in surprise.

“There…” he smirks dangerously, “problem resolved.”

You are speechless as he withdraws a pace, looking at you expectantly. You follow his order, a slight quake in your hands as you push the frayed dress down your body, still a little shocked by his strength. Then you reach for the crisscross lacing of your stays, feeling the weight of his stare as each loop relents, his eyes hungry, his body heaving with deep breaths his fitted jacket taut with each inhale. You peel the item away, leaving just your thin white cotton chemise.

“Rip it too,” you plead before you realise it, enthralled by this assertive demeanour.

With a noise in the back of his throat, he takes a pace forward again, and you stare up at him, enchanted. He grasps the fabric above your breasts and then rips it loudly from your chest all the way to your ankles, the sound echoing up the walls. Again, his strength has your knees weak. As the torn pieces flutter from your body, you want to bathe in the hungry sound he makes as he realises you are clad only in white knee-high silk stockings, no underwear to be seen, the warmth from the fireplace swirling around your intimate area. 

As you stand almost naked before your imposing husband, him still fully dressed, there is a knot low in your gut. But it’s not fear; it’s something else entirely—desire. Trembling, breathless and wanting. An elemental wish to be thoroughly taken.

He steps forward, eyes glittering, and his fingers plough roughly between your legs, making you gasp.

“Eden,” he proclaims, his fingers snagging over your swollen pearl of a clit with almost rough strokes, the callous where he holds his paintbrush abrading your folds. “A wonderful, lush, wet garden. Just waiting to be planted.”  His words are hypnotic and low, questing fingers being coated with a dewiness that is entirely of his making.

“Please…” you whimper, squirming on his touch, captivated by this version of your husband, wanting to submit to him, a burning need low in your belly. His fingers slide faster, making a lewd, wet noise. 

“Are you going to let me?” Benedict croons. “Plant my seed inside you?”

Until now, he has always been careful to complete outside your body. A slightly bereft feeling every time - the wonderful moment cut short as he leaves you suddenly empty, a warm splash upon your thighs, tummy or spine. The idea he will stay inside you is alluring in a way you don’t fully comprehend.

“Yes, please, husband,” your nipples puckering almost painfully against the wool of his lapels as he crowds into you. 

“Good. Get on that bed right now,” Benedict orders roughly, pointing at your four-poster bed as he tugs off his jacket.

You scramble to obey. Feeling under a spell. Being naked save your stockings feels illicit as you lay back into the soft pillows and watch as he undresses, staring you down the whole time. 

You slide a hand between your legs instinctively as more of his toned body is revealed. He growls at the sight, you biting your lip and watching him, his torso bare, his trousers clinging to his shapely legs, to his swollen cock. He bends to remove his shoes, and the sight of his broad shoulders flexing is enough to make you moan. As he stands back up and hooks his elegant fingers around the trouser buttons, a smug look on his handsome face that he is doing this to you.

“Husband…” you call out to him, writhing on your fingers shamelessly now, one hand shooting up to brace your movements against the headboard, flushing warm down to your toes.

With a few dextrous flicks, the buttons relent, and his trousers drop to the floor. His naked body is always a delicious sight, but tonight feels more, every sense heightened, moaning again as he takes a step towards you, thigh muscles flexing, his cock standing proud to attention.

Again, a soft plea falls from your lips, your eyes raking every plain of his tempting form, feeling yourself swell under your fingertips.

“Not yet,” he clucks, the arrogance somehow more beguiling as you bite your lip. “I think I want to watch you come, my darling. All by yourself. I hear female pleasure can aid with conception after all.”

“Will you not touch me?” you petition, reaching your other hand imploringly towards him.

“No darling, I shall watch,” his lopsided grin deadly. 

He wraps a strong fist around his own cock, pumping slowly, a bead of moisture gathering at his tip, glistening in the candlelight as he does. 

“Now, use both hands, please. Place your fingers inside yourself,” Benedict instructs as you blindly follow, a languid buzz in your brain—you would do anything he told you to right now.

Planting your feet squarely on the bed, you drag your ankles up higher towards your bottom, letting your legs fall open wider to give him a better view as your other hand slides down. You plunge two fingers into yourself, your hips canting off the mattress with a staccato breath at the sensation of yourself, so hot and tight.

“That's right,” he endorses, a leisurely movement of his hand up and down his cock as he watches you from a few feet away. “‘Feel yourself, darling. Tis paradise, is it not?” that trademark rumbling voice skittering over your skin, goosebumps raising down your arms just at the tone. 

“Come closer,” you appeal breathily, wanting to smell him, feel his heat, his flesh—anything.

He shakes his head, smirking wider as his refusal spurs you on, desperate to come. Mewling as your fingers speed up, one circling your clit, the others buried as far as you can, wishing instead it were his long, graceful fingers reaching places you are unable. Watching him squeeze his own cock hurtles you fast, already aroused from the moment he slid a hand into your dress in the carriage. 

Unable to fight the tide in your body, you screw your eyes shut and call out his name as your pussy starts to convulse around your own fingers, toes curling into the sheet, your muscles all going stiff, your hips again raised as you feel the tide break. A gush of wetness runs down your palm and your bottom cheeks as your mind floats away. Distantly, you can hear him speaking, but it’s fuzzy as you flop back down, sated, your legs going flat, too shaky to balance.

You startle as a warm hand circles the wrist of your fingers still inside yourself, bringing you abruptly back into the room. Benedict looms over you, his chest heaving, that power still there.

“What was that?” your query drowsy, lips dry.

He chuckles richly. “I said that was spectacular,” he repeats, bemused. “But also that I want you to paint your nipples with your arousal, my love, for me,” he commands, tugging your hand so your fingers slide out of yourself.

You do as bidden, still floating down from the high, smearing your own warm juices onto your puffed areolas.

“Perfect..” he intones.

In one swift, athletic move, he mounts the bed. You cry out as his warm mouth encloses your left nipple, groaning lewdly as he licks you clean of your arousal, his tongue a heavy, warm, wet weight curling around your sensitive bud, his lips tugging gently, reawakening those synapses only just recovering from your orgasm. 

“Why do you always taste like heaven?” his dusky question is rhetorical, his breath gusting over your sternum as he swaps to your other breast to meter out the same treatment. He has you moving under him again as he settles his body over you more firmly, your hips tilting up to feel his hard cock graze your inner thigh. “I wonder if you will still taste like heaven when you are heavy with my child?” he hums thoughtfully as he teases your nipple with the tip of his nose, one hand cupping your empty belly. “I dare say even moreso, ripe like a vine, bearing fruit…” That sonorous voice teases over your skin as he moves slowly upwards to nuzzle your neck. “My fruit….” he adds, possessive as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth, so loud now right by your ear.

His hands wind around your thighs as he shuffles position so he is kneeling between your legs, his ropey thighs spread wide under yours…

“Are you ready for that, my love?” he pauses until you nod almost imperceptibly; you squeak as he suddenly hauls you down the bed, hips onto his lap, your pelvis now higher than your head upon the sheets. Your stockings unfurling down your legs where he quickly plucks at the ribbons holding them aloft.

“Good, because I am more than ready for you,” it almost sounds like a warning.

Then, with a solid thrust, he spears into your body, the invasion toe-curling, your fingers grasping his muscular forearms that are clamped around your waist. It is a primal position, and he begins to thrust with no mercy, his cock feeling huge and heavy, a strong weight that drags heavily over your walls as your pussy clings to him. Your eyes flutter closed as you whimper his name, powerless to do anything but take his thrusts, draped across his lap as you are.

“Look at me,” he demands raggedly. And you do, his handsome face contorted with effort as he slams into you, a little bead of sweat forming on his brow. “Look at me while I fuck a baby into you, wife.”

He’s never spoken to you like this before, clipped, harsh. It seems appropriate that he would be almost desperate in an act so elemental, so of the earth—to create life. Stoking a fire deep in your core that is a clarion call for him, a frisson running over your skin at the idea you are being impregnated. Bred.

You know neither of you will last long with this almost frenzied coupling, the tendrils of your arousal already swirling so soon after your last, his near-brutish handling precisely what you need, your swollen pearl slammed into his flat abdomen with every stroke he takes. The sheets roll under your shoulder blades as he keeps the same position, your hips high, a mounting that you cannot and do not want to escape, knowing he is leaving fingertip bruises around the dip of your waist, marks you will carry secretly with pride just for him.

You moan his name, so close again to that ephemeral bliss, thrashing your head from side to side as if willing the pleasure to break and wash over you.

“Come on, come for me, milk me, darling. Take what you need, take my seed,” his voice a deep wrecked purr, the lines of his body tense, craving release as much as you.

That command is what breaks the dam for you, an almost violent ricochet fanning out from where you clench around him, his cries muffled behind the rushing noise in your ears, every part of you convulsing in a pleasurable wave. And then, in a floating haze, for the very first time, you feel your husband come inside you, a warm bloom that coats your walls. It's an intoxicating feeling; you never want him to come anywhere else ever again.

“That's it, well done, my love,” he croons, eyes still shut as he shudders with little aftershocks, not leaving your body—as if he wants to stay inside you always.

——

As the embers in the fireplace glow white, you lay in post-coital bliss, bodies dewy from exertion. Benedict rests his head upon your stomach as you card your fingers leisurely through his hair.

“Do you believe we may have made a baby, darling?” he hums, pressing his ear to your belly button as if listening for a heartbeat.

“I am certain of it, husband; you were so very thorough with your attentions,” you assure as he takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. “I hope our baby has your face,” you opine.

“Even if it is a girl?!”

“Thou art as pretty as thou art handsome, Mr Bridgerton,” you quip.

He laughs, carefree, crawling behind you and pulling you into a spooned embrace. “Be careful with such provocation, wife; I may not be done with you after all,” he jests idly. “I, on the other hand, hope our child looks like you, even if it is a boy.” he posits, crowding into your back, his lips warm on the shell of your ear.

“Why?” you laugh, frowning, twisting to look back at him.

“So that I may love them as much as I do you,” he breezes nonchalantly as if what he says is not the sweetest thing you can imagine, causing a tart, sudden spike of want through your body, even as you lay sated.

“Be careful, husband,” you volley back, coquettish. “Or I may not yet be done with you.”

There is a sharp, approving intake of breath, and his hand slides low from your belly into the thatch of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“Is that a promise” he rumbles, your gasp loud as his fingers expertly drag against your clit.

“It is whatever you want. Just do not stop,” you rush out, your hand curling around his bicep, feeling a rigid mass slide hot against your bottom. “Again, husband,” you appeal breathily. “Impregnate me again.”

“With pleasure, wife,” he growls, surging into your body with a force that again steals the very breath from your lungs.

The pinkish light dawn is streaking over the ceiling above when you both finally succumb to sleep after many more vigorous attempts at babymaking. The last one, perhaps the most desperate, you pinned against the headboard, him fucking into you so hard from behind that a jagged crack appears, spidering up the wall from where the bedframe slammed into it. A flaw which he steadfastly refuses to get fixed, claiming it to be the most profound art—a souvenir and ode to a momentous night.

——

9 months later

Benedict’s lips mash against your sweaty brow as he keeps lauding you with praise, excitement and pride evident in his every word. You flop back onto the bed, exhaustion deep in your bones, your body turned inside out, hurting in a way you have never known.

But it was all worth it.

What feels like only moments later, in your shattered, addled state, the doctor and nurses depart. Your husband perches on the bed next to you, his face a picture of wonderment. Holding not just one but two bundles of joy in the crooks of his arms. One girl, one boy—fraternal twins.

“My love, we have created the most beautiful creatures on all of this earth,” he attests partisanly, his voice profound with emotion, his eyes pinging from one swaddled face to the other as they sleep soundly.

You shoot him a watery but ironic smile. “I suppose, dear husband, that is what happens when you spend a whole night impregnating me. You succeed twice over.”

His brow raises pointedly, his tongue shooting out to pass over his bottom lip. “Are you suggesting next time around, wife, we keep going for three days straight? So that I may have a brood of eight by the time we are done?” Deploying his bedroom voice that he knows full well makes your knees weak.

“Do not say such things in front of the children!” you chide, swatting his knee where it touches your thigh. “And no, I am not carrying six of your progeny at once; that is simply preposterous!”

“Four?” he petitions with a wink.

You roll your eyes affectionately, settling back into the mound of pillows. “A maximum of two at a time is my final offer, Benedict Bridgerton,” you respond drolly.

“Entirely reasonable,” he chuckles contentedly, dropping a kiss onto each of their foreheads before handing both to you so delicately, as if they are the most precious bundles in the world. 

Which to you both, they are.

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[thefoxandthepenguine]

Lost star (Pt. 1)

Wanda Maximoff x Guitarist!Fem!Reader

Summary: AU. You never had the courage or opportunity to tell Wanda you were the masked YouTuber she admired since high school when you met her in college. What will happen when you meet her again years later, as the teacher of her twins?

Warnings: Slow burn, fluff (for now?), angst

Word count: 2.4k

a/n: Well, well, well- guess who's back? I know I've been gone for so so long and most of you probably already forgot me :'( But I've had this idea for a very long time and couldn't resist the temptation and urge to put it down in words. I hope y'all enjoy this story and please tell me what you think about this by commenting, reblogging or leaving me an ask. Good reading :)

(GIF found online. I don’t own this gif.)

Part 1

“Romanoff! You left your panties in my room. Again!”

With a playful sigh, you swung open the door and tossed the red lace panties toward the redhead, who turned at the sound of your voice. The panties landed on her face, and you huffed with mock irritation.

“And don’t you ever dare to steal my under-”

Suddenly, you faltered, swallowing your words as the person in front of you pulled the panties away, revealing herself to you.

Holy shit.

You cursed yourself for acting so impulsively. 

This person, whoever she was, was most definitely not Natasha Romanoff.

“I-” the girl shifted her gaze between the panties pinched in her fingers and you, her brows furrowed in confusion as she spoke. “Uh- wrong person?”

What on earth were you thinking Y/N? Throwing panties on a stranger’s face?

“Oh gosh,” you gasped, too shocked to stop yourself from rambling. “I’m so sorry- I shouldn’t have- I didn’t know- I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I- I thought you were Nat 'cause she told me she’d be in her room and her roommate wouldn’t be around. I really am so-”

Much to your surprise, the girl giggled softly before dropping Natasha’s panties into her laundry basket. “Relax. No need to keep apologizing,” she said, seeming to be amused by your flustered state. “By the way, I’m Wanda. Natasha’s roommate.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, calming down enough to take in the person standing across from you. That’s when you breath hitched—

She was stunning. 

You were captivated by the vivid shade of emerald in her eyes, so vibrant and expressive under the sunlight streaming through the window. Her hair, not as light as Natasha’s now that you took a closer look, cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, perfectly framing her face.

“And you are?”

Wanda’s voice brought you back, and you noticed her head tilted slightly, curiosity in her eyes.

Oh no.

You curse yourself again under your breath. 

“Y/N. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m an old friend of Natasha.”

“Did you come here to find Nat?” Wanda asked, sitting on her bed. You hesitated for a brief second where you should sit, and finally decided to settle on the edge of Natasha’s bed, sitting across the room from Wanda.

You were not sure if she wanted you to sit near her after what just happened.

“Yeah…we’re planning to have dinner together,” you nodded, offering a small smile.

“Something’s up with their project, so Nat went to the library with her group mates,” Wanda explained, crossing her legs as she shifted to find a more comfortable position on her bed. “But I think she’ll be back soon.”

“Oh,” you said as you rose from the bed and gestured towards the door. “I can wait for her out-”

“It's okay! You can stay here,” Wanda interjected quickly, waving her hand reassuringly.

“You sure?” you asked, pausing with one foot still on the floor, a hesitant expression on your face.

“Mm-hmm.” 

You nodded, smiled appreciatively, and returned to your spot on the bed.

Silence soon settled in. Occasionally, you and Wanda would meet each other's gaze in the air, but only to look away the next moment. This awkward tension lingered for a minute or two until you began to fidget with the sheets self-consciously, feeling the discomfort of the silence. You scanned the room desperately for something, anything, to spark a conversation, hoping to ease the tension between you two.

Then, something leaning against the wall caught your eye.

“You play guitar?” you asked, nodding towards the instrument in the corner of Wanda's side of the room.

“Oh, that!” Wanda followed your gaze and waved her hand dismissively. “I wish I knew how to play. I’m just learning.”

“That’s cool!” you said, genuinely intrigued now. “Any songs you’re working on?”

“Yeah, ‘How deep is your love’!” Wanda exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she mentioned the song.

“Great choice! It’s a classic,” you replied with a grin, feeling an unexpected surge of happiness at discovering your shared love for the same song. 

“Argh but I’m terrible at it,” Wanda huffed in frustration, her nose scrunching slightly as she likely recalled her practice sessions. “I can never get the barre chord right.”

“Do you have a teacher, or are you learning online?” you asked, leaning forward unconsciously as the conversation carried on.

“Oh, I’m learning online. Come here, let me show you!” She patted the space next to her on the bed, inviting you to sit beside her. As you made your way across the room, Wanda shifted onto her knees and crawled across the bed to reach for her laptop on the nightstand.

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she opened a webpage and positioned the screen between the two of you. "I’ve been following this tutorial guide by a YouTuber. Have you ever watched her videos? You have to check her out if you haven’t. She’s such an amazing guitarist!"

You almost choked in surprise the moment you recognized your own video playing. It showed a person playing the guitar and singing "How Deep Is Your Love," with tabs and chords displayed at the bottom. You could not see her face as the highest part visible was her chin.

But you knew damn right who this girl was in the video.

This was literally your channel.

"I- you like this YouTuber?" you asked, struggling to suppress an amused smile as you turned to face Wanda. Your heart raced, a mixture of pride and disbelief swelling inside you.

“Like? I’m her biggest fan! She’s amazing!” Wanda exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over. “I’ve been following her for years! She posts tons of guitar covers, and every time she includes tutorials with free tabs. Do you know how hard it is to find good free tabs online?”

Of course you knew how difficult it was. That was why you started posting the tabs for free on your channel after listening to songs and music you liked.

Wanda carried on, her excitement contagious. And you were surprised to find that she was so talkative when talking about-

You.

“And you know what? She has the best taste in music! It’s like she always posts songs that I love! But it’s such a pity she never shows her face in the videos. I wish I could see what she looks like!” Wanda pouted at the thought of the face reveal but still looked radiant this whole time.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks as Wanda continued to shower compliments on you, unaware that you were the person she had been talking about this whole time. 

You had never met any of your followers, or fans, in real life. Few people knew you were the one running this channel, except for your family and a few close friends. Yes, you had started the channel for a few years and you had had a decent number of followers that you were happy with. But hell, you had never imagined you would one day meet someone who claimed to be your fan. 

You got a fan?

You still couldn’t believe it.

Should you tell her?

She seemed to be a big fan of yours and really loved your music. That would make her happy, right? Knowing the YouTuber that she loved was sitting right next to her.

But then you hesitated, unsure if you should reveal that the person who had just tossed panties onto her face was the same person she had admired so much for so long.

What if you ruined her imagination of this great guitarist?

That’s also why you chose not to reveal your face in the first place. You wanted people to listen to your music, not judged it based on how you looked or who you were.

Or- if you were being honest-

You were afraid they wouldn’t like your music as much if they figured out who you really were.

The real you.

Just when you were struggling with your options, you heard the door fling open and a familiar voice reached your ears. “God, Wanda, I can’t believe I forgot my USB in-”

The three of you froze, exchanging glances.

“Y/N! You’re here!” Natasha seemed a bit surprised to see you sitting side by side with Wanda.

You rolled your eyes. Based on how well you knew Natasha, you were pretty sure she had forgotten your dinner plan. “We have dinner plans tonight.”

“Oh right! I’m sorry, dear, I forgot. Let me fix my project first and I’ll be right back.” Natasha mumbled something about her project as she rummaged through her table for the USB.

USB in hand, Natasha turned around with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with mischief. She leaned slightly against the table, crossing one arm over her chest while holding the USB up with the other. “Wanda, already forcing Y/N to watch your favorite YouTube channel?” she asked, her gaze shifting between the two of you with keen interest.

Wanda's cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she looked up at Natasha, her expression a mix of mild embarrassment and amusement. “Not forcing! I’m just introducing her to it!” she said, a small smile playing on her lips as she glanced over at you, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of her laptop.

“Hmm,” Natasha raised an eyebrow and shrugged before continuing, “You know, it’s nice you two finally met. I’ve been dying to introduce you to each other for so long!” Natasha said as she walked towards the door, the smirk still firmly in place. “Y/N, have you told Wanda already?”

“Tell me what?” Wanda snapped her head and looked at you curiously.

“Uh- I-” you stuttered, feeling the heat creeping up to your face again. Your mind raced, trying to make the right decision, but the intensity of Wanda’s gaze made it difficult to think straight.

“No way! You haven’t told her yet? Y/N is-”

You glared at Natasha, silently pleading with her to stop. She paused halfway through her sentence, throwing you a confused look before changing what she was going to spill. “- an excellent guitar player. She plays exactly as good as that YouTuber you like.”

Well, even if Wanda had to know, you should be the one telling her directly, not from any other’s mouth.

Natasha winked with a smug expression at you before you turned around to see Wanda’s eyes widen in shock, her mouth falling open slightly. “Seriously?”

“She’s just exaggerating,” you tried to downplay it, your hands fluttering nervously.

Wanda gasped, a mix of surprise and admiration in her voice. “Whoa that’s so cool! Can you actually play that song?”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of your neck.

“Oh my God!” Wanda rolled off her bed to grab the guitar and handed it to you. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you play it for me? I really love that song.”

“Well-” you hesitated, feeling a bit embarrassed as all eyes were on you.

“Please?” Wanda added, her eyes wide and hopeful.

How could you say “no” to those puppy dog eyes silently begging you? Your heart melted at her earnest expression.

“Uh- sure,” you agreed, taking the guitar from her. 

You didn’t miss her genuine grin as you shifted to face her on the bed, holding the guitar on your lap. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, and she leaned forward slightly, her entire demeanor radiating excitement. The way she looked at you, full of eager curiosity, made your heart race even faster.

Though you felt a bit flustered playing in front of someone at such close proximity, the weight of the guitar in your hands was familiar and comforting. As you strummed the strings, the music notes seemed to soothe your nerves.

It all felt natural to you.

“Whoa-” Wanda exclaimed, momentarily speechless as you played the final note. When she lifted her gaze from your hands to meet your eyes, you could tell something had changed in the way she looked at you. “I can’t believe this! You play exactly like her after watching the video just once.”

“Thank you,” you chuckled sheepishly.

Well after all, you wrote that arrangement.

It was then you looked around the room and noticed Natasha was long gone. Only you and Wanda were left alone.

“That was- whoa!” Wanda mumbled, looking down at her hands on her lap. “I wish I could play like you. But my hand…I think I could never figure out the barre chord.”

“Your hand actually seems pretty big, maybe bigger than mine,” you said, opening your palm and glancing at it. When you looked up, you saw Wanda holding her hand up towards you, and you instinctively placed your hand against hers. “See? Yours is bigger than mine. You can definitely do this.”

“You think?” Wanda asked, her voice tinged with doubt as she glanced at her hand.

“Do you want to give it a try? Maybe I can help,” you suggested, adjusting the guitar on your lap and offering it to her.

“Is that okay?” Wanda’s fingers hovered uncertainly over the strings.

“Of course!” you replied with a reassuring smile.

You handed the guitar back to Wanda and watched as she placed her fingers on the neck, trying to play the B minor chord. She got the notes right, but the sound came out a bit muffled and unclear, with a faint buzz.

“Urgh!” Wanda groaned, her brows knitting together. “See? I can never get it right.”

“Alright, let’s see-” you said, moving closer to her and pointing at her fingers. “Do you mind if I adjust your fingers a bit?”

“Go ahead.” Wanda nodded eagerly.

“You need to move your index finger closer to the fret, like this. And maybe turn it slightly so your bone presses on the neck,” you explained, gently adjusting her finger. “Then bend your middle and ring fingers a bit more so they don’t touch the strings below.”

You checked her fingers one last time, making sure they were in the right position. “There you go. Try it again.” You nodded encouragingly at Wanda.

When her right hand strummed the strings, the chord rang out with a clean, crisp sound. You immediately smiled. “See? You’ve got this!”

Wanda’s eyes widened with disbelief, and she gasped slightly. “I did it! I can play the chord! Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” you grinned, feeling the earlier awkwardness dissolve.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hey, I actually started watching HOTD just some days ago (thanks to tumblr constantly throwing fics at me with very promising summaries and gifs of very pretty men until I couldn't resist any more) and now I keep rereading everything you write about Aegon because it's just so good and just everything I need.

Could I maybe request some more about Aegon crying during sex, maybe he tries to hide it but he can't keep it quite so his wive notices anyways. I'm currently just really addicted to the idea of holding him and telling him he's doing fine

And thank you so much for everything you've written ❤️

Absolutely we can discuss all of this!!! I am always glad to welcome another into the crybaby!aegon agenda. I intended for this to be fully soft and smutty and well... there's a fair amount of angst too I am sorry in in advance but I promise it ends well!! Also this got so far away from me oh my god I thought I was writing a quick blurb and it turned into one of the longest pieces I've ever written.

Soft NSFW sub!aegon below the cut :))

So obviously as we all know, Aegon is not exactly a virgin. You knew this going into your marriage with him, hell just about every person in the entire seven kingdoms knew this. You were fine with it, well, as fine as you can be. You weren't expecting a marriage of love, or even of companionship. You knew you'd have to give him a few heirs, and then after that you doubted you'd even see much of him. That was fine, you wanted to be queen and you are queen. You can withstand a bit of Aegon's infidelity for that title.

What you don't expect, however, is how utterly shocked and taken with you your new husband seems to be the moment you show him any amount of human decency? It's like he expected you to actively try to kill him and the fact that you actually greet him in the mornings and ask him how his day went during dinner means he must now follow you around like some sort of sad puppy?

Meanwhile for Aegon, he was also certain he'd just make some heirs and then barely see you. I think his belief would mostly be because of Allicent actually? All Allicent ever told him from the moment he came of age was how much of a disappointment he was and how she would need to find a way to ensure that he doesn't completely fuck up the entire of the seven kingdoms. And when she tells him that she's found him a wife, he immediately knows she would have chosen someone who was with her agenda and would have already convinced the person that he would be useless.

But, nevertheless, he decided he would do his duty.

What he did not expect, however, was how... cordial you were with him? And not only that, you seemed to actually try to be nice to him?? He really doesn't know what to do with himself when he comes into your shared quarters after dinner to perform his required duties and instead of just rolling over and telling him to be done with it, you actually start by talking to him? And... and asking about his day??

And then when he answers, you respond? And you lament with him about how ridiculous and uptight most of the people in the castle are? He's so shocked that you even want to converse with him at all.

He doesn't even end up trying for an heir. He just... has an hour long conversation with you that ends with him nearly falling asleep against your shoulder and then when he realises the position he's in, he quickly bids you goodnight and leaves to his quarters.

It goes like that for a little while, except now you seem to be seeing Aegon everywhere? It's like he's actually trying to run into you as much as possible so that he can ask what you've been doing and have even the smallest conversation with you.

It reaches a point where you actually start to see his eyes light up every time he sees you, and well, you have no fucking idea what to do with that because your husband hasn't tried for an heir since your wedding night and has instead been scrambling for any ounce of your attention.

You consider going to Allicent about it, because she's starting to ask questions about whether you've bled for the month yet or not to figure out if you have an heir for them, but then you decided it against it because honest Aegon just looks so happy? You know if you speak to Allicent then she will set Aegon straight and it'll go back to how it was the first night. You don't want that. You don't want to see the weight back on Aegon's shoulders.

I actually think that as you get closer, and Aegon starts to realise he might have a real genuine confidant, he gets more and more nervous about actually having sex with you?

Aegon thinks he knows all there is to know about sex, and he's certainly has enough women in his bed to understand the mechanics if nothing else, but he doesnt want that with you. The women in the brothels he's been with... sure it felt good but deep down he knew it was fake and they knew it too. They'd put on a show for him, do whatever they thought would make him happy and while yes it most certainly did make him happy, it also made him... empty? Yeah, empty.

As he gets to know you and enjoy being with you, his heart starts to ache at the thought of you going into that mode that all the others seemed to where they just let him get his business over with and then promptly left the room. He knows that's what you're supposed to do, but he can't quite bring himself to do it because fuck he just, he really likes you and he's not sure where to go with this.

He's never had anyone actually make him feel safe before? And yeah you're extremely attractive but you also listen to him complain and make him laugh and genuinely care about him and he's just very lost.

He goes back to the brothel then, because he thinks he needs to just sleep with another woman and remind himself how good that feels and then he'll be able to bring himself to go do what he's supposed to do with you.

You don't know this of course.

Well, you don't know until about 2 hours after Aegon left for the brothel when he comes barging into your private chambers with tears in his eyes and promptly begs for forgiveness.

You obviously haven't a clue what's going on, but you pull him into a hug anyway and ask him what this is about.

Through many whines and sobs he eventually manages to explain that he went to a brothel, tried to fuck a whore and... couldnt? You try to get him to explain what he could mean by that and he kinda just buries his head in his hands and sobs even harder.

So at this point you've fully given up trying to figure out what's going on and you just pull him against your chest and press soft kisses into his hair. He melts against you, his body going slack as he nuzzles his nose against the exposed skin at your gown's neckline.

Once he's calmed down, he still doesn't move, but he does manage to whisper what happened.

He went to a brothel intent on fucking a whore to get himself back into the swing of things and then the following day to actually fulfil his duties as husband. Except, the moment the brothel worker kissed him he felt terrible and pushed her off. They brought in more women, and he couldnt do it. He... he felt like he was betraying you.

Eventually you just pull away to make him look at you and ask him, "What do you want? Genuinely, what do you want?"

He's silent for a moment, then he surges forward and kisses you. It's the first time you've kissed him since your wedding night, and this time it's like he's melting into your arms.

You kiss him back, and you have to tug at his hair to make him stop so you can breathe and repeat the question. He tries to kiss you again, but you tighten your grip on his hair to prevent him. The whine he lets out at being denied is fucking sinful, but you won't give in until he's actually told you want he wants.

"Wanna... wanna be good for you," he says eventually, "I don't want to be how I was before, I don't want all that emptiness I just... how do I be good?"

This time, you're the one that starts the kiss and he lets you just manhandle him so easily. He's so pliant under you, whining and whimpering and looking insanely gorgeous as he tries to touch you.

You ride him, and fuck the way tears just run down his eyes as he thanks you and grips your hips is life changing. He's so good like this, all worked up and squirmy and so so turned on. But he doesn't act, not at all. You started this, and he's not going to do a thing, he wants to your plaything, nothing more.

He turns his head to the side as you start to ride him properly, trying to hide how tears are just streaming down his cheeks but you take his chin in your hand and turn him to face you. You stop riding him for a second to wipe the tears away.

"You're so good," you promise him, "couldnt even get yourself off anymore, huh?" He whines and nods and cries, because you get it, you get it.

"I'll take care of you then," you say, smirking when he actually groans in relief, "but," you carry on, "then you're mine, yeah? Only mine, no more brothels or whores or servants."

And fuck if that isnt the easiest promise he's ever made.

(Just a quick sidenote to end off this novel: We should discuss himbo!aegon with his queen who does absolutely everything. Yes he's technically the king but in practice his only job is to look pretty and listen to wife and he is truly living his absolute best life)

[aegoniipascal]

Family First | AEGON II TARGARYEN

the council meeting gets interrupted by Aegon’s wife with their children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera.

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x wife!reader

gif by @lauraneedstochill

You were seated in the chambers that you shared with your husband, comfortably nestled in the sofa chair with a book of Targaryen names in hand. With gentle caresses, your hands moved up and down your swelling stomach, cradling the precious life growing within. As you were 5 moons along, the time had come to choose a name for your unborn child.

When you and Aegon learned that we were expecting another child, both of you were overjoyed and eagerly anticipated meeting our new baby. However, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were not as happy about welcoming another sibling into the world.

Aegon was unable to be present with you due to an important council meeting that he had to attend. You were disappointed that he couldn't be there to help choose the name for your child.

The search for the names of the child was when you were interrupted, by a knock on the door. In response, you told the visitor to enter. She closed the book and set it aside as the door burst open, revealing one of the maids who had brought the twins.

The maid approached gently, holding the hands of the two twins. "Your grace, the prince and princess wanted to see you," she said softly.

“"Ah, thank you. You may go," You said gently as the maid bowed and released Jaehaery and Jaehaera's arm.

The twin's laughter filled up the chamber, and both of them dashed toward you. You bent down to their height and enveloped them in a tight embrace as if the time apart had been far too long for you and your children.

"Muña, we missed you!" Princess Jaehaera exclaimed, holding onto the hug a little longer before finally letting go.

Jaehaerys impatiently looked around the room and you knew why.

"Where's Kepa? We're supposed to start training," he said, his expression turning into a pout. He then settled down on the same sofa where I was seated.

"In the small council, my love," she replied to him with a warm smile.

"But Kepa said he wasn’t busy!” Jaehaerys stomped his little foot out. Since Aegon ascended to the throne, he has grown significantly closer to your son, the next on the iron of the throne.

Yes, Jaehaerys waited a long after his lesson to join his father for sword training, but he had to attend an urgent meeting instead. You could see the impatience in Jaehaerys; he was just as eager as his mother to be with his father.

Jaehaerys pleaded with his mother, his big, innocent eyes filled with pleading hope. His mother couldn't resist such a heartfelt plea.

“Ok. Let’s go and see.” You said making Jaehaerys jump off the sofa excitedly. You smiled at your son exclaimed.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Aegon was in an urgent small council meeting and he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with his family and help you pick out the names of a new child that would be there in a few moons. But he is stuck here with his mother, grandsire, Aemond, and the other council members.

He wasn’t paying good eyes to what they were talking about. All he thought about was his family. Until the council chamber door opened and a guard went over to Aegon and leaned over to him.

“My King, your wife and the children are here, should I bring them to you?” The guards said to the king, Otto overhearing this before Aegon could answer.

“Tell the Queen and the children they would have to wait because this is more important,” Otto told the King's Guard and the King snapped his head to his grandsire.

“Hand, I don’t remember you get the authority to tell my king guard what to do.” He said catching Otto off guard by his grandson's words.

“I suggested you, shut your mouth.” He eyed his grandsire. Alicent who saw the argument between her son and father, knew that Aegon’s family meant more than himself.

“Aegon must do something for the small folks, they are low on food to feed their families and demanding supplies.” Alicent implied to the King, Aegon snapped his head to his mother.

“Ok—then give them what they need. I’ll have Aemond take charge of this. He wouldn’t mind, right brother?” Aegon asked from across the council table, Aemond was sitting across from his older brother.

“I would be honored brother.” Aemond nodded at his brother. “Good. Meeting‘s dismissed.” Aegon gets up from the chair.

Aegon passed the table without saying another word. He did not care a little about the Small Council, they never listened to him so why listen to them now? The guards opened the door for the King and stepped out of the room. He saw his pregnant wife and his twins waiting patiently to get an answer. Jaehaerys was the first to see his father walk out of the door and immediately run towards him.

“Kepa!” He jumped on him and Aegon caught him in mid-air. “My boy.” Aegon kissed his forehead as walking to the important girls in his life.

“Let’s go play swords like you promised!” He stated to his father and Aegon nodded remembering the promise that he made with Jaehaerys setting him down on the ground.

“Did we interrupt an urgent meeting?” You ask feeling guilty for being the one to intruder the council meeting.

“No, my love. You could never be mad at you for this.” Aegon smiled rubbing his hand on his wife's stomach and felt the babe kick the side of her stomach making her gasp.

“Now little one must not hurt your mother.” He kneeled to her stomach level and kissed her huge belly. Jaehaera peeked to the side to see her father.

Aegon smiled at his daughter and quickly grabbed making her let out her giggles as he placed her on his hip kissing her on the forehead.

“KEPA LETS GO!”

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