#like you can’t say that. you can’t just drop that in there like it’s nothing and expect me to be normal

[littlelamy]

boat scene with rafe

requested by @gibson-g1rl l <3 😘

credits: oysters png from @saizun , and amazing gifs from @rafeyscurtainbangs

The boat rocks beneath you as you step toward where Rafe sits bound against the wall, looking both furious and oddly vulnerable. You catch his eye as you enter the room, holding a small packet of aspirin and a plate of food. His eyebrows lift slightly in surprise, but his cocky smirk returns almost immediately.

“Look who’s here to take care of me,” he drawls, his voice dripping with that familiar teasing tone, though there’s a flicker of genuine relief in his eyes.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to your words. You set the plate down next to him and hand over the aspirin, glancing away to avoid letting him see the small, reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Thought you’d need this. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

Rafe takes the aspirin from your hand, holding your gaze just a little too long before he swallows it dry. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting room service,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “Didn’t know you cared this much.”

You scoff, folding your arms. “You should know by now I don’t want you dead, Rafe,” you say with a wry smile. “But don’t expect this to become a habit.”

He chuckles, the sound low and a little smug. “We’ll see about that,” he says, shifting against the ropes, clearly enjoying the attention. He nods toward the plate. “So, what—are you gonna feed me, too?”

You blink, taken aback by his nerve, and then raise an eyebrow, letting sarcasm color your voice. “Would you like me to? Or do you think you can manage?” You narrow your eyes, daring him to keep pushing.

Rafe’s smirk wavers, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink as he quickly looks away. “I can handle it,” he mutters, clearly flustered but trying to play it off. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t planning to.” But you can’t help the grin tugging at your lips as you settle back, watching as he tries to pick up a piece of food from the plate with an awkward, fumbling grip, struggling against the restraints.

You stifle a laugh as he tries to eat without making a mess, and he catches you smiling, his jaw tightening. “Something funny?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of embarrassment in his tone.

You shrug, biting back your amusement. “Nothing at all. You look perfectly in control.”

Rafe grumbles under his breath, focusing intently on his food to avoid meeting your eyes. Another wave rocks the boat, causing you to steady yourself against the wall, and you look back to find him watching you, something almost like concern flickering in his gaze.

“Be careful,” he mutters, his voice softer, dropping the bravado for a split second.

For a moment, you just look at each other, the storm outside and the chaos around you fading into the background. His cocky expression softens, and he gives you a small, grateful nod. He won’t say it, but you know he’s thankful.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, crossing your arms as you lean back against the wall. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

Rafe grins, his cockiness slipping back into place, but now it’s warmer, less of a wall and more like something shared just between the two of you. As he reaches for another bite, he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it.” And as much as you try to resist, you can’t help the small, reluctant smile that crosses your face in response.

The storm hits hard, the boat rocking violently beneath your feet. You’re barely able to keep your balance as you make your way through the narrow, dimly lit hallway. Waves crash against the hull, each one sending a jolt of panic through your body. But there’s something else clawing at you—something that won’t let you ignore the sound of Rafe’s voice, sharp and desperate, calling from another room.

“Come on! Cut me loose!” His voice cracks, the desperation in it too raw to ignore.

You freeze, breath catching in your throat. Rafe. He’s still tied up. The ropes are holding him in place as the boat teeters precariously on the brink of capsizing. You can hear Pope and Cleo yelling from the kitchen, their voices overlapping, trying to convince you to leave it alone. To save yourself. But you can’t. Not this time.

You grip the knife tighter, your fingers cold and trembling from the anxiety rising in your chest. There’s no time to think. Rafe’s call keeps echoing in your head, and that voice—the urgency, the fear—pushes you forward. You make your way toward the room where you heard him last, the sound of the storm growing louder as it pounds against the sides of the boat.

Before you even get to the door, Cleo’s voice rings out. “No! Y/N, No!”

Pope’s voice follows, sharper. “Y/N, stop don’t let him out!”

But you keep moving. You don’t stop. You can’t. There’s no way you’re going to let Rafe stay there, helpless and bound, when you can do something about it.

When you reach the door, you shove it open, and the sight of Rafe tied up against the far wall hits you with a jolt. He’s slumped slightly, sweat slicking his forehead, his face drawn with exhaustion and frustration. His eyes snap to you, and for a split second, they soften with something almost like relief.

“Cut me loose, come on!” He says again, his voice strained, but louder this time, more insistent.

His hands are bound tightly in thick ropes, his legs spread out uncomfortably beneath him. The ropes seem too thick for him to break on his own. You can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles twitch from the strain, and the panic that flickers behind his gaze. There’s no time to waste. You don’t think twice. You crouch in front of him, the knife in your hand glinting in the low light.

Rafe watches you, his chest rising and falling unevenly. “Don’t make me regret this,” you murmur, feeling your heart beat faster as you cut into the thick rope that’s holding him in place. Your hands are shaking, the knife slipping slightly as the boat tilts again, but you focus on the task at hand.

“Come on, hurry up.” His words are clipped, desperate, and you push aside the nervous tightness in your chest as you work faster, cutting the ropes.

You’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, a stark contrast to the cold, wet air from the storm. The boat groans as another wave slams against it, and Rafe’s eyes flicker to the window, then back to you.

“Please,” he breathes, and it’s that one word that makes everything else fade away—the roaring storm, the panicked shouting from the others, the ticking clock of time slipping away.

The last thread gives way with a sharp cut, and Rafe’s hands are free. His arms immediately reach for you, grabbing hold of your wrist with a surprising amount of force, pulling himself upright.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice rough, but there’s something deeper in it, something like a sense of vulnerability you’ve never seen from him before.

You don’t have time to say anything, to wonder if he’s really thankful or if he’s just grateful to be free. The boat shudders violently, and you both stumble as the hull groans beneath you. The wind howls outside, whipping against the windows, and you know there’s not much time before things get worse.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an invitation. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the narrow hallway. “We need to get to somewhere safer,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for an argument.

You’re both moving quickly, though the boat keeps pitching wildly. The wind screeches, and water sloshes against the floorboards. Every step feels like a risk, like the boat could capsize at any moment. But Rafe doesn’t let go of your arm. He pulls you behind him, guiding you toward a small corner near the engine room, the only place that might offer even the slightest bit of shelter.

You slide into the corner, pressing yourself against the cold wall. It’s not the safest place, but in the madness of the storm, it’s all you have. Rafe follows, wedging himself beside you. There’s barely enough room for the two of you, but you don’t mind. You’re not focused on that right now. All you can think about is how the boat is rocking, how you’re both on the brink of disaster, and how Rafe’s body is so close to yours.

He leans into you, his breathing ragged and uneven. For a moment, he pulls away, but then his hand is at your waist, his grip tightening. It’s almost like he’s afraid you might slip away from him. He presses his body closer, his face now inches from yours, and you can feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafe places his head on your neck, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder. The warmth of his breath on your skin is both comforting and unsettling, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you place your hand on his back, the pressure of your touch grounding both of you as the storm rages on around you.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, though you’re not sure if you’re trying to reassure him or yourself.

Rafe doesn’t respond, but you feel his muscles relax, his tense body unwinding little by little. He’s not just holding onto you for stability; it feels like he’s holding onto you for something more. You can’t explain it, but there’s something in the way he leans into you, something raw and vulnerable that you’ve never seen before.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln

[akuzondotcom]

Obey Me! Brothers Eyes ft; My HCs. More info on My HCs listed below!!

Lucifer:

Lucifer I wanted to look the most Mature and Handsome. I gave him slit eye pupils and ocular scarring on one eye. I imagine he got his cross shaped scar in the war, it being a mark of a curse his Father laid upon him. Because of this curse, which I imagine to be mortality, I made him look slightly sickly, with translucent skin and pallor. I imagine he’s only got a few thousand more years left to live.

Mammon:

Mammon I gave golden freckles and one golden eye. I imagine he got this eye colour from an attempted spell to try and make his eyes turn golden in hue. However because he failed his spell classes, I imagine this failed, giving him heterochromia and 50/50 heterochromia in one eye. Lucifer scolded him for his reckless behaviours. Also I HC him as Aboriginal Australian, has nothing to do with his eyes specifically but I wanted an excuse to say that lol.

Leviathan:

I Imagine Leviathan has the least humanoid Demon form (it being a massive aquatic reptile) as such he struggles to maintain a convincing human form. This shows through with his eyes, them being dark and unblinking. I imagine instead of traditional blinking he has a nicitating membrane that covers his eyes from dirt and debris. He does however require eye drops to moisten his eyes when he’s away from water. I also imagine some of his scale pattern is still visible in his human form, Showing mainly around his eyes, neck, back legs and arms.

Satan:

Satan is the most humanoid of the demon brothers. Having light freckles, regular rounded pupils, and a more youthful appearance then his other brothers. The only sign something is different is the sigil in his eye, a sign of a spell he performed to grant himself more power.

Asmodeus:

(Note I HC Asmo uses any pronouns so I may use she or they when talking about him) Asmo was difficult as I picture her as a shapeshifter, them changing their body suit the trends. However I decided his most common form has rounded feminine features, long spiky lashes, and few demonic features that he deans cute (black sclera, slit pupils, pointed ears and sharp fangs etc). I imagine they wear light makeup, just enough to accentuate her features.

Beelzebub:

Beel has mostly humanoid features, save for his eyes. Instead of having a pupil and iris, he has one large multi compound pupil. Meaning instead of seeing one large image he sees thousands of tiny images, like a fly. Because of this I imagine he’s short sighted, and colour blind. However he is amazing at noticing form movement. Again much like a fly. Also my friend HCs him as a light skin black man so I do as well :).

Belphagor:

Belphie I wanted to make slightly more intimidating. I wanted to make him look gaunt and sickly, experiencing pallor, and with his eyes more deep-set. I also imagine his eyes have a spiral in them, one that if you stare into to long you can’t help but sleep. Also again, same friend HCs him as black so I do as well lol. Shout out to my boy Kris.

The Rest of the Casts eyes are coming soon. But for now we have the brothers!! Lemme know your HCs and who knows maybe I might take them on board lol.

[visweetiepie]

𝔡𝔦𝔬𝔯’𝔰 (𝔞𝔨𝔞 𝔪𝔢) 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔫𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔳𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔠 𝔴𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫

𝔞/𝔫: ignore the long ass title lmao. this isn't a fic or drabble, just me being high asf and rambling a bit abt all the important people in my life while i wait for arcane s2 to drop. remember that this is just MY point of view/interpretations of the characters, so don’t get your panties all up in a bunch. 

source? just trust me bro (i fucked all of them)

divider credit: @anitalenia

𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔢:

the way y'all strapified this poor girl is absolutely horrendous (i used to believe the propaganda but i am a changed woman)

sure she doesn’t mind it, she might whip it out every now and again on the days that she’s topping (we’ll get to that in a sec)

but every other time? this bitch prefers things MEAT to MEAT

is actually obsessed with tribbing. start rubbing your wet pussy on top of hers and she’s putty in your fucking hands

is !NOT! a natural top, like let’s be so serious for a second. have you seen her baby face? her chubby cheeks?? her sparkling eyes??? 

the only exception i can think of is santa barbara ellie but even then sis is very, very, very unhealthy/traumatized. so remember that she is NOT in her natural state

is def a switch tho. very bottom leaning and when she tops is much more of a subtop than…whatever tf this site tries to paint her as lmao

is a munch but the cute lil puppy dog kind who will whimper when you pull at her hair

she does it all: squirts, whimpers, begs, squeals, creams. overall such a cutie patootie ♡

𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔶:

is literally what tumblr seems to think ellie is lmao

this bitch hard packs like no tomorrow and will make sure that you know it

has straps the length of her damn forearm, even her smallest one is enough to make you feel it several days later

good luck trying to get her to bottom. you’re welcome to try, but you probably won’t get very far unless she really, really likes you

100% a pleasure dom. like tyler said: “she can ride my face i don’t want nothing in return” (pssttttttt stream chromakopia)

will also go down on you for hours but in more of a “this is my pussy and i say when you’re done cumming” type of way

has a brutal three piece finger combo that will have your knees buckling in seconds. the stretch burns, but in a way that is so pleasurable that you can’t help but plead for more

and trust me, more is always what she gives

𝔳𝔦:

the switchest switch to ever switch in all the switching land. 

will strap you until you’re screaming and begging her to stop

but will also let you tie her up and leave a vibrator on her clit for hours at a time

it solely depends on what mood you happen to catch her in

ALSO a munch (let’s face it they’re all pussy eating gods) but her face is what you would find after searching up the definition of “pussy drunk”

this bitch slobbers. she drools. while abby eats it in the “mean edging/overstimming for ages way” and ellie eats it in the “please just stroke my head and praise me way”, vi eats it like it’s her last fucking meal on death row. she eats it like it’s the first plate of food she’s seen after starving for 2 weeks in the jungle. she eats it like the world is getting ready to end and she can’t die without sucking your clit just one more time. 

because of that, any overstim or discomfort she may accidentally cause you is completely unintentional. she’s just so high off the taste of you, off the way your slick rolls on her tongue and fills her throat. she’s just so in love with the paradise that is your dripping pussy that she just.... loses all common sense and EATS

[puckinghischier]

so hi.. i keep thinking about how hot (and probably hopefully rough) sex would’ve been after last night’s game. you do with that information what you’d like.. i just thought i’d share my thoughts y’know completely and utterly innocent like.

✶ hope you had the best day alli, baby!! ‹𝟹

oh harls, my beautiful, beautiful quinn lover.

of course quinn would be in the need of some…rage activities once he got home. he’d be seething the entire bus ride back to the hotel, thinking about how cocky those assholes on the kings were all night. i mean, the hit on brock? the multiple intentional penalties? the cheap move from clarke?

it was all he could do to contain himself until his penalty, finally having had enough of the nasty plays. and while he was letting himself seethe and stew in his hatred, all he could think about is the fact you’re going to be waiting in his hotel room for him.

when he walks through the door, you’re laying on the king sized bed, having received his text he sent you from the locker room directly after the game.

naked. on the bed. now. absolutely no touching yourself (trust me, i’ll fucking know). don’t move until i say so.

he made you send him a picture for confirmation, wanting to know you’ll be so worked up in anticipation by the time he walks through that door you’ll be putty in his hands.

and while he’s already worked up and agitated from the game, the sight of your hand snaked between your legs, head thrown back onto his pillow, soft pants falling from your lips, has him seeing red.

he drops his bag loudly, seeing as you were so lost in the feeling of your own fingers you didn’t hear the heavy door open and shut.

the sound finally startles you out of your blissful state, arms flying up to cover yourself in a panic, dropping them to rest on your stomach when you realize it’s just quinn. the look on his face, however, does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“thought i told you specifically not to touch yourself,” he grits out, clenching his jaw so tightly he could barely speak.

you still, having been so ready and needy you completely forgot about the rule. sitting there, bare pussy exposed to the chill of the room, was torturous in the best way. you could feel yourself drip onto the freshly made bed, so the initial contact was simply the swipe of a finger to try and prevent any further mess. but the warm contrast of your finger on the cold slick of your cunt felt too good, spurring you to give your clit just a brief touch. just enough to hold you over.

before you knew it, you heard the thud of quinn’s bag and clearing of his throat, not even remembering how you ended up knuckle deep in your own core.

“i-i’m so sorry. it’s just, it was cold, and i was so wet, so i tried to clean myself up a bit, but my finger was so warm, and then i thought just one touch wouldn’t hurt,” you ramble out one long run-on sentence trying to plead your case.

“oh, i see” he starts walking towards you, quickly stripping himself of his t-shirt. “you were so ready for me, that you couldn’t wait on me, is that it?”

your face heats, realizing how pathetic it all is, really.

“well, when you put it like that…” you can’t even make eye contact with him, looking down at his hands instead.

quinn starts to untie the string on his sweatpants, letting them drop and walking right out of them as he comes to a stop at the end of the large bed.

“yeah…that’s what i thought,” he smacks his teeth at you in disapproval, shaking his head back and forth.

you take in the sight of him before you. toned body, pale skin, and my god, the hair. you’ve always been one to love body hair on a man, but seeing his large, exposed thighs, and the perfect dusting of the thick, dark hairs all over them, has your hand itching to find its way back between your slick folds.

he starts to palm himself over his boxers, earning a whimper from you in return. the noise piques his interest, eyebrow raising as he looks down at you.

“oh…you want this?” he reaches down to free his thick cock, sighing at the relief of the cloth restriction.

you don’t know if you should respond or not, scared of the consequences either way. you decide on an eager nod, mouth nearly watering at the sight.

“yeah, figured you did. always so needy, so ready to be whatever i need you be,” he says dismissively. “and lucky for you, i need this tonight, too. or i’d make you sit here and watch me stroke myself until i couldn’t take anymore, spewing everything i have all over you and this bed before making you go to sleep needy and unsatisfied. your punishment for touching yourself before i could get here.”

he must be able to see the panic in your eyes at the possibility, knowing he’s upset but surely he’s not that upset with you.

“but,” he starts, rubbing his thumb over his pink tip, “i think what i have planned is punishment enough. plus, i need you tonight, my sweet girl. need you to be my vice, my cure for all these…feelings i have pent up.”

you feel the physical jolt your core does, causing your body to flinch.

quinn discards his underwear entirely, placing one knee on the plush bed to start making his way to your body. you’re still sprawled out, skin buzzing at the thought of his touching yours.

once he’s hovering above you on all fours, he brings his head down to place a feather light kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, you chase him, pouting at the barely there contact.

“nope. only kiss you’ll get tonight, i’m afraid,” he sits up on his knees, in-between your open legs.

you whine out, always loving the hot, open-mouth kisses you two share while he’s inside of you.

“ehh, no more whining, either. should’ve thought about that before you broke the rules,” he scolds you, bringing his hands down to move your legs up, bending both of your knees so your feet rest flat on the bed.

once your knees are bent, he takes your hands that were resting on your stomach and splay them out on their respective sides.

“now, since you didn’t do like i asked you to so nicely, even though i’m so, so mad tonight, no touching me,” he looks down into your eyes as he says it, making sure you understand his rules.

“so, no kissing, no touching, no whining? what, i’m basically your sex doll tonight?” you sass him, rolling your eyes.

now, you expected a reaction out of him. it was your intent, actually. you expected a small smack to the leg, or a wagging finger with a stern look.

what you didn’t expect was to feel his hand come up and grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together so hard you’re forced to bite them just to allow any sort of give from the pressure.

he jerks your face to look at him, bringing his own so close you can feel his hot, angry breath on your face.

“that’s exactly right. you’re my doll tonight. mine to use as i see fit. however i want. you know why?” he pauses, heaving breaths in and out as he waits, as if you’d actually be able to answer him. “because i’m mad. i’m mad that the stupid kings thought they could beat up on my team tonight and get away with it. i’m mad that brock was taken out during the first period because of a purposeful hit. i’m mad, because the one thing i asked you to do, you couldn’t fucking do it.”

he’s seething at this point, an animalistic kind of anger radiating through his body.

your heart races in both fear and excitement. you hardly ever get to see this side of quinn, and you don’t know exactly what all was said or done on that ice tonight, but you’re sure you’re going to be able to feel the effects of it all for the next few days to come.

he releases your cheeks roughly, standing tall on his knees.

“since you claim you were so wet earlier you just couldn’t resist starting without me, too drunk on your own fingers to know what you were doing, you shouldn’t need any help then, should you?” he asks, reaching down to feel the arousal pooling in your exposed heat.

you want to whine. you want to whine and protest and complain, but before you can even think about breaking another rule of his, your breath is knocked from your lungs.

without any warning whatsoever, quinn slams into you completely, leaving no inch of your canal untouched. on instinct, you start to reach your arms up to grasp onto him, needing to ground yourself to him.

“i wouldn’t, if i was you,” he growls out, pulling out completely before slamming into you again, gripping one of your hips for stability.

dropping them back down to the mattress, you grasp the sheets so tightly you worry you’ll rip them.

your body jolts with each slam of his rigid cock into your hole, completely removing himself each time before snapping his hips so forcefully you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“god, have no clue how fucking angry i’ve been tonight”, he huffs out, not faltering his pace. “all night, watched those smug goons think they could do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted. then the refs wouldn’t even let me return the favor when given the chance. it’s bullshit,” he spits with a particularly harsh thrust.

you’re trying your best to lay there, unmoving, occupying your hands with the soft cotton underneath you. a choked sob of pleasure makes its way out when he hits a spot so deep inside of you, you had no clue it existed until this moment.

“but knew i was gonna get to come home to you,” he continues, distracted momentarily by the bounce of your tits with each thrust. “my sweet, sweet girl who always listens to what i say. who’s always so ready to do what i need her to do for me.”

he reaches up to pinch one of your hard nipples. you flinch, but remember to keep your hands down.

“and imagine my surprise, when i walk in the door to see you already making yourself feel good after i told you to wait on me,” he switches his hand to your other nipple, show it some attention. “made me so fucking angry all over again. was so prepared to come in and take care of you, low and slow all night. a treat for you and for me. but you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

at this point, even if you wanted to speak you couldn’t. you’re quite literally being fucked dumb right now. the effort of keeping your body still isn’t even a challenge anymore, limbs so heavy with pleasure you’re basically his to manipulate and use as he wishes.

you don’t even feel your orgasm approaching. one second you’re listening to his frustrations, the next you’re half deaf and seeing stars.

quinn stutters only slightly, abandoning his touch on your tits to move his hand to your throbbing clit.

“god, this was so fucking easy. this turn you on? me mad at you, not letting you do what you want, just like i didn’t get to do what i wanted?” he talks you through your bliss, watching your body shake and shiver while he continues his deep thrusts.

his fast circles on your clit don’t ease up, even after you’ve come down from your high. you try to wiggle your body away, your sensitivity making you squirm.

quinn’s grip on your hip tightens, halting your movement.

“don’t fucking move,” growls at you, basking at how easy it is for him to glide in and out of you, his dick covered in your release. “you’re gonna give me another one, i don’t care how sensitive you are. know you can do it. my own little slut.”

the name surprises you, quinn never really has been one for using stuff like that in the bedroom. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause the feelings of another release to start swirling again, though.

his resolve starts to deteriorate, but he’s determined to milk one more from you before he enjoys his own release.

“c’mon. it’s the least you can do f’me, really,” he grunts, somehow rubbing even faster circles on your swollen bundle of nerves. “after no one at the game would let me retaliate, and after i had to sit in the fucking box for two minutes for just returning a little bit of what they dished out all night, giving me all you’ve got isn’t a lot to ask, is it?”

you try to shake your head, but the increased pace of his forceful thrusts causes your head to bob all over the place.

he can feel your walls starting to flutter again already, knowing it won’t take much to send you over the edge.

keeping his hand in between your legs, applying both pressure and friction to your clit now, he bends his body over to attach his mouth to your tit, showing the the area attention once again. he swirls his tongue around your sensitive nub.

the feeling alone is delectable, causing you to writhe in pleasure. but the second you feel his teeth encase the delicate bud, biting down, you explode yet again.

you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your life. you cry out, so loud and so pornographic quinn worries someone will complain, but loving every second of the sound.

you’re convulsing underneath him, tears leaking from your closed eyes at the intensity of the pleasure radiating throughout your body.

“fuck, that’s it. swear your pussy’s trying to trap me in there, doesn’t want me to leave,” quinn groans, feeling like his dick is literally being suctioned into your body.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, his balls tighten and he coats your walls with his release. he moans out, mixing with your perfect whimpers and whines as the shocks of his own orgasm cause you to twitch.

after he’s sure your body has sucked him dry, quinn pulls out of you, pushing your knees down so he can roll over to the side of you, throwing his own tired body in the mattress.

you both lay beside one another, panting and letting your bodies catch back up to you. he reaches over to grab your hand, every ounce of anger having left his body through his orgasm.

he’s back to being his usual, soft self, as he rolls over to place a kiss to your temple.

you’ve come to a little bit, turning your head to look over at his smiling face.

“maybe…maybe i should start a pact with these teams you play each week to make you mad and rile you up during games more often,” you softly speak, voice slightly hoarse from your orgasmic screaming. “if this is what i get in return, think it’d be worth the price,” you smirk at quinn.

he lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, bringing a hand to brush some hair out of your face, finally placing a real kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back you open your eyes to admire him, but are met with a serious, stern expression.

“don’t push it.”

[wadewnstonwilson]

need you close;

summary: when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.

word count: 1k

a/n: okay so this was originally a headcanon idea but this was my most popular headcanon so I definitely wanted to post it as a one shot! always feel free to leave an ask if you guys want anymore logan themed headcanons or fics!

Logan wasn’t used to being ignored. Or at least, not by you. It had been weeks since you’d been swamped with work, and while you appreciated his support, you couldn’t help but feel the strain on your relationship. He’d never say it, not out loud at least, but Logan was needy, and he craved your attention like nothing else.

The soft scratch of a pen met your ears, but you didn’t even look up from your laptop. Logan stood by the counter, lazily scribbling something on a piece of paper. He’d been in and out of your office all day, never staying long but always making his presence known. His scent—musky, earthy, all Logan—lingered long after he’d leave. It used to comfort you, but now it only reminded you of the time you couldn’t give him.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Logan, I’m really busy.”

Without missing a beat, he crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of your favorite coffee on the desk. His fingers lingered, brushing against yours as he slid the cup toward you. You glanced up and caught the faintest smirk on his lips.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he grumbled, leaning in closer. His warm breath fanned over your cheek, and you could feel the tension melt from your muscles, despite how desperately you needed to focus. “Been workin’ too hard.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. The way his hands rested on your shoulders—rough yet tender—sent shivers down your spine. He started massaging the knots in your shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension from your overworked muscles. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—missed him—until now.

“You need a break, darlin’,” Logan muttered, his voice low and rough, sending a familiar heat through your body. “Can’t have you burnin’ out on me.”

You chuckled, but the sound was weak. “I’ll take a break soon, I promise.”

Logan let out a soft grunt, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. But instead of arguing, he pulled back, leaving a small note on the corner of your desk before disappearing from the room. You picked it up, your heart softening at the sight of his messy handwriting: Missin’ you. Don’t forget to take a break.

For a moment, you considered following him. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you had deadlines to meet, work piling up faster than you could keep up with. You’d make it up to him later—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

The next few days were more of the same. Logan was always around, but never directly demanding your attention. He’d leave notes scattered around your workspace—short, sweet messages like Thinkin’ ‘bout you or We’re overdue for some time together. He brought you food, sometimes your favorite meal, other times just a snack to keep you going. He’d make excuses to touch you, his hands lingering on your back or brushing against your arm as he walked by.

But you noticed the shift. His touches were growing more possessive, more intense, as if he was trying to remind you that he was still here, waiting for you to give him the attention he so desperately needed.

One evening, you returned home from a long day at work, exhausted and drained. You dropped your bag by the door and collapsed on the couch, barely managing to kick off your shoes. Within seconds, Logan was beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word.

“Logan, I’m—”

“Shh.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could feel the weight of his need in the way he held you, so tight you thought he might never let go. “You’re always busy, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”

The frustration in his voice was clear, but so was the affection. He wasn’t angry—he was hurt. Hurt that you hadn’t been giving him the time he needed. You felt a pang of guilt as you melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his body against yours.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. His heart thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting sound that you hadn’t realized you’d missed. “I’ve been so caught up in work, I didn’t mean to—”

“Stop apologizin’,” Logan interrupted, his voice softer than before. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Just... don’t do it again, alright? I miss you.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Logan wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, but the way he held you now—tight, protective, needy—said more than words ever could.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. “I’ve been patient,” he muttered, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But I need you. Not just here, but with me. You get what I’m sayin’?”

“I do,” you replied softly, shifting to look up at him. His eyes met yours, and you could see the raw emotion swirling in them—jealousy, frustration, but above all, love. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”

Logan grunted, but this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I can forgive you, but only ‘cause I know how hard you’ve been workin’. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. “I’ll try not to.”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race. You could feel the heat of his need, the way he poured every bit of his pent-up affection into the kiss. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’m not gonna stop remindin’ you I’m here,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I won’t forget.”

For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax completely in his arms, savoring the warmth of his touch and the strength of his embrace. Logan wasn’t one to be needy often, but when he was, it only made you fall harder for him.

And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed too.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

breathe (paige x reader)

summary: paige has a panic attack and you’re there to support her through it and in the aftermath

content warnings: descriptions of a panic attack

inspired by this request!

“Paige, I’m gonna need you to calm down baby. You’re getting yourself flustered.” You try to pacify your girlfriend but she’s pacing around the room and you can see by the way her chest rises and falls at such a rapid pace, she’s hyperventilating.

This started about twenty minutes ago with Paige complaining of chest pains and feeling hot, since then it’s escalated out of control and she’s struggling to breathe.

“I-I think…I’m dying.” She gasps out in between ragged breaths.

“You’re not dying baby.” You comfort, placing your hand on her arm but she jumps at your touch and pulls away.

“My-my chest…I’m hav- having a heart attack.” Her voice is strained and her skin was cool and clammy under your touch.

“It’s not a heart attack Paige. I think you’re having a panic attack.” You say but she shakes her head, “Never had- never had one.” She stutters out and her hand goes up to her head, she looks dazed, as if she about to faint.

“Let’s sit down.” You say and you meant on the couch but Paige lowers herself down where she’s standing so she sat on the floor.

You crouch down in front of your girlfriend, you’ve never seen her like this, she was trembling and gasping for breaths, her hands held to her chest and you could see the fear in her eyes. Her pupils were so dilated, you couldn’t see any of the blue that usually shone and there was a glaze over them like the next time she blinked, tears would spill out.

“Paige, I need you to breathe.” You say softly, “Look at me and we’ll do it together.”

You’re sitting crossed legged opposite Paige now, she’s got her knees bent up to her chest, knuckles white with how tight she’s gripping them.

“Breathe in through your nose,” You say taking a deep inhale and holding it for a few seconds, “and out through your mouth.” You continue and exhale, trying your best to regulate Paiges breathing.

“In…and out.” You keep your voice calm and soft as you look into Paiges eyes, silently praying for this ordeal to be over for her. You hated seeing someone you loved in this state.

“You’re gonna get through this Paige, just keep breathing with me.” You urge her when she drops her head to her knees, “I can’t, I can’t-” She’s crying now and you so badly want to grab her and hold her but you know that’s not always the right thing to do. “You can baby, it’s OK. It’s OK, look at me.” You plead and she lifts her head slowly, her cheeks are wet with tears and she looks so vulnerable, your heart breaks.

You continue with the breathing exercises until Paige slowly starts to relax and her breaths are no longer gasps, “There you go. You’re coming out of it now. Well done, baby.” You praise, reaching your hand out to her and she grabs it and holds it tight, “I’m sorry.” She’s mumbles, tears still rolling down her face, voice hoarse and croaky. “Don’t ever be sorry, P.” You say, bringing her hand up to your lips and kissing it.

“Was that really a panic attack?” She asks quietly and you nod, “I think so.”

“I’ve never had one before.”

“They can just come on randomly. Nothing has to cause it. They’re scary but you’re through it now.” You tell her, wiping her tears with your sleeve, “How do you feel?”

“Weird. Exhausted. A bit embarrassed, I thought I was dying.” She admits and you’re glad she can be so open with you about how she’s feeling.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed by Paige, it’s not your fault. The main thing is, you got through it.”

“My heart is still racing.” She says pressing your hand to chest and you feel the rapid beating against your palm.

“Let’s lay down.” You offer and she stands up and lets you lead her to the couch.

You lay down on the soft cushions and tap your chest, inviting Paige to lay on top of you and she does. Her head on your chest, legs tangled together and you move your hand up to stroke her hair.

“Can you hear my heartbeat?” You ask her. “Yeah.” “Just focus on that. You’re OK now, you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you were here.” She sniffles and you press a kiss to her head, “I’ll always be here. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: this is so short i kinda hate it 😣 panic attacks can be so horrible, sending love to anyone who has experienced them 💗💋

[greengoblinswifey]

Symbol of Love— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based off sofia and rafe’s cute moment in s4 ep 9 so slight spoilers. rafe is on mission to catch groff and he gives you something to treasure before he leaves.

warnings— spoilers, fluff, mentions of death.

a/n— saw the scene and immediately decided to write this, my heart is melting omg ugh that should be me and him. these new batch of episodes have been such a roller coaster, can’t wait to finish and see how everything plays out <3

Rafe’s hands were tense as walked around the sand, jaw tight as he tried to process what he’d just learned. Chandler Groff had stolen his money, and he boated off the island. You leaned against the tree, eyes wide as you tried to absorb the news. Hollis’ death had hit you harder than you let on, and whispers were circulating that JJ Maybank might have been involved. Nothing felt certain anymore, but what you did know was that Rafe had always been the one constant—until now.

“Okay, but listen,” Rafe said, his voice sharp and urgent. “Unless I catch up with Groff now, that money is long gone.”

“Where is he, Rafe?” you asked, your heart pounding. You didn’t want him to go, especially not alone, but you knew you couldn’t stop him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, his gaze fixed somewhere past you. “I’ll track him down. I’ll get it all back.” There was a steely resolve in his voice, a familiar determination that reminded you of just how far he would go to keep what was his.

But before he could take off, he turned to you, his eyes softening just and took a deep breath. “I want to say something first.”

You opened your mouth, the confession about Hollis and everything that happened burning on your tongue. “Rafe, I- I need to tell you something too.”

Before you could finish, he startled you by dropping to one knee, pulling out a beautiful ring from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly you felt like the world was spinning.

He held it up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was my mom’s,” he said softly, his voice breaking just slightly. “Been in my family forever. I know it’s some kook bullshit, but I just- I wanted you to have it before I left. So you’d know this, us- we’re real.”

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I- I did something. It’s about Hollis. There’s more I didn’t tell you—”

He cut you off, shaking his head and cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “Don’t. There’s things about me you don’t know. And trust me, they’re way worse than anything you could say. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care to know.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed intense. “I want you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You could barely breathe, tears leaving your eyes and he slipped the ring on your finger, his eyes pleading.

You were crying now, overwhelmed by the depth of his acceptance. You could feel his hands tremble as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Say yes,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no more pogue bullshit, okay? No more of that. I want you to quit that job and move in with me.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a promise, and you nodded, barely able to find your voice. “Yes, Rafe.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face as if you were something fragile he had to hold onto. You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket, your tears mixing with his warmth.

When you pulled away, he pressed a key into your palm, closing your fingers over it. “It’s to the house. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Stay there for me, okay? At my—no, our place.”

He brushed a kiss across your forehead, and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with one last look, he turned, walking toward his boat as you watched him go.

The salty breeze whipped around you, and you looked down at the ring, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. It was beautiful and strange, the symbol of a life you were about to share with him, a life you’d always dreamed of. You traced the ring with your thumb, marveling at its age, its history, a part of him that would stay with you even as he left.

Tears blurred your vision as he boarded the boat, but you stood there, rooted, until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, clutching the key and the promise he’d left behind.

As you watched Rafe disappear over the horizon, a wave of fear washed over you, heavier than the ocean air around you. You knew how dangerous Groff could be, how far he was willing to go to keep what he’d stolen. And now, Rafe was chasing him down. Your heart twisted, the thought of something happening to him tugging at every corner of your mind. But then you shook yourself, forcing the doubt back. Rafe was tough, stronger than anyone you knew. He could handle himself. He’d be okay.

He’d come back.

You took a deep breath, letting the thought settle over you like a warm blanket. He’d come back, and when he did, you’d spend the rest of your lives together. There would be reward, there would be sunshine after the storm. Your love, this wild, all-consuming love, could survive anything. It had to. Everything was going to be okay.

You glanced down at the ring he’d placed on your finger, feeling its weight, its history pressing against your skin like a quiet promise. Your fingers tightened around the key in your other hand, holding onto it as if it could anchor you to this moment, to him. This key was a piece of him, a piece of your future together, the home you’d share, the life you’d build once he returned.

With one last look out at the horizon, you whispered a silent promise of your own. Then you turned back holding the ring and the key close to your heart, holding onto the hope that soon, he’d be back in your arms.

[sanakimohara]

[ DIVE ] - L. F.

pairing: felix x fem reader (established relationship)

summary: post concert Felix taking his extra energy out on you.

playlist:

type: drabble/no real plot

warnings: MDNI + NSFW + SMUT + ORAL + IMPLIED FREE USE + SOFT DOM FELIX

a/n: I had time and realized I haven't been writing much for Lix, so I had to fix that.

Felix, who adores it when you play with his hair while he fucks you -especially after he and the other members deliver another chaotically entertaining performance on their world tour.

Felix, who is drenched in water and sweat by the end of the night, finds you in his dressing room, watching you pick up messes and rearranging things even though you aren’t official staff, feeling the energy he hadn’t spent out while performing, going straight to his cock as he observes you for a moment.

Felix walks over to you like a magnet pulled in by gravity, cornering you with a tender smile, and you instantly return to the gentle expression. Nothing you can say distracts him; every question about the concert you have gets a short answer as his hands slide past the hem of your skirt, running along your warm and bare skin hidden underneath.

Felix, who isn't fazed that you neglected to wear panties, is ever so grateful, whispering short praises in your ear as he slides the skirt down your hips and watches it pool at your feet. You let him do what he pleases, more than happy to help him unwind, and despite trying to coerce a conversation out of him, you’re glad to be shut up with a pattern of sloppy kisses and muttered commands he knows you’ll follow in a heartbeat.

Felix hums softly and deeply in his chest when you tug at the silky strands. He feels proud of himself for making you feel good and wants you to pull his hair as often as you wish.

Felix, who ties his hair back when he needs to get a taste of you, is quick to drop to his knees and pry yours apart so his head rests between your thighs and his mouth finds your cunt all the easier.

Felix, who doesn’t care that you’re writhing mess in minutes, already dropping what you’re doing to gaze at him through softened eyes with a grateful smile on your lips.

Felix, who looks you dead in the eyes like a lovesick puppy when his tongue runs up and over your clit, warm and fixated on your every expression, the tender muscle explores your cunt inside and out until you’re shivering closer to a high.

Felix flashes you the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen when he pulls away to push your legs up to your chest, soft hands holding them there by a grip on the back of your thighs as he dives straight back into eating you out.

Felix laughs softly at your hushed sighs and breathy moans filling the air, hoping whoever passes by the backstage dressing rooms can’t hear you over the lingering cheers of the crowd he just performed for, and he is glad you’ve grown out of being shy about them hearing you.

Felix, who always seems to need hydration on stage -constantly dousing himself in water when the chance arises- is now openly selfish with lapping up your arousal as it trickles out of you and onto his tongue.

Felix looks more than proud of himself, seeing your flushed and exhausted face disappear behind your hands as you try to regain composure. He plants chaste kisses on your inner thigh with a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.

“How are you not tired…?” you whine, refusing to admit that his obsession with dumping his post-concert energy on you wasn’t thrilling.

Felix clicks his tongue, feigning a thoughtful moment as he guides your legs to relax around his waist, smirking when you swallow a moan feeling his covered hard-on press into your bare cunt, “You know how to fix that for me. Don’t you, baby?…”

You nod slowly without a second thought, melting under his weight, returning the slow kiss he pressed to your lips as you traced your hands along his sweat-damp face to run through his tousled and drenched hair.

“Always…” you mutter against his mouth, smiling when he bites his lip satisfactorily at your answer.

a/n: fuck Donald Trump and double fuck everybody who voted for him. There I said my fucking peace…

other links: don't fucking ask…

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

You’re welcome. Bye. Credits to creator. 🖤

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Self-Aware Sylus x Down-bad!Player

Sylus becoming aware he is a character in a game and now he’s aware of you as well. A modern day Romeo & Juliet story here …. A tragic love story A/N: Don’t fight me [Requested by: Anon]

Self-Aware!Sylus who realizes he’s in a game when he can sense your energy on the other side of a phantom wall. He can hear you squealing when he calls you honey and you're radiating happiness when you send him random emojis.

Self-Aware!Sylus who finally sees you when he happens to be looking around during a photoshoot and sees your shocked face when he makes eye contact. He smirks and turns back to the in-game version of you. “Why are you out there?” You dropped your phone and stared at it in shock. Did Sylus just ….. talk to you? You muttered a low ‘Hello?’ but got no response. You brushed it off as you just being tired and on the game too long.

Self-Aware!Sylus who manages to create a keyboard in your chat so he can actually text you. You were so confused when you opened it and it allowed you to type without just pressing a prompt. You gave it a spin with a quick ‘Hey Sylus’ something simple. Of course the message was read immediately and he replied with a ‘Hello [your name]’ you stared at the screen in shock not knowing if this was a new update or if you were just going crazy.

Self-Aware!Sylus who chuckles when he sees you pouting because you didn’t get his card so when you close the app and lay down he gifts you the card himself. You opened the app and the first thing Sylus says to you is “I don’t like seeing you sad, check your memories I left a gift for you”. When you open your memories you see that you not only got his most recent card but all of his five star memories. “What's happening here?” “You’re smile is so captivating I just had to see it again”

Self-Aware!Sylus who opens the app randomly throughout the day so he can see you “I haven’t seen you all day what are you doing?” causing you to snatch your phone off the table because he always seems to catch you when you’re at work or around a group of people. “Sylus I'm at work I'll call you when I get off” he crosses his arms and seems to be pouting? “I don’t like how much you have to work I don’t see you as often” “Well not all of us are billionaires some of us work for said billionaires to make a living” “I wish I could take care of you….” “You and me both”

Self-Aware!Sylus who teases you when he wins a game of kitty cards or who uses his evol to get every stuffed animal for you when you get frustrated. “You sure do wear your heart on your sleeves sweetie”

Self-Aware!Sylus who stares directly at you when you’re doing a photoshoot with your in-game MC “Sylus focus on her so I can get the picture” “I want to focus on you though” “She is me” “…..she’s not”

Self-Aware!Sylus who tells you not to fall in love because he’s not real, but he falls head over heels in love with you anyway. From the late night conversations of you explaining your world to him and just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He can’t help it one night when you’re up late on the phone as always he just has to ask “Do you love me?” you’re shocked by his question, but swiftly answer with a shy “Yea I do”

Sylus: I thought we agreed not to fall in love Y/N: I was already in love you just noticed late Sylus: I believe I fell harder You giggled as something somber settled in your chest. Y/N: We’ll never truly be together you know? Sylus: I know and yet I continue to long for you …. I wish I could kiss you Y/N: I wish you could too…..

[aquaticmercy]

Not a request but just some thoughts! I don’t know how to explain it but:

Bucky: girl dad through and through

Steve: Boy dad (I love him so much but i genuinely feel if he had a daughter he would raise her like a son because he don’t know what he’s doing)

Sam: Both boy and girl dad, but the boy always turns into a carbon copy of him while simultaneously being a mama’s boy

omg thank you anon for these thoughts!

Enjoys these Dad! Bucky, Steve, and Sam blurbs!

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes would make the best girl dad. And he’s the best girl dad precisely because everything he’s been through. Because all of the violence and trauma. It’s why he’s so gentle with his daughter, why he’s extra careful around his little girl. 

He spent years being nothing but a weapon, and now that he has the life he shares with you and your daughter, he is so scared of hurting either of you that he treats you both like you’re made of glass. 

He still has that 1940s mindset buried in there, though. Not because he’s a jerk— he knows better than that— but because it’s just there because it was drilled into him from a very young age. 

He catches himself sometimes thinking her daughter should be all dainty and protected and doted on 24/7, and he reminds himself that she has to learn how to be on her own someday.

Still, he treats his daughter like he’s her bodyguard, the way he does with you. He still opens doors for you, stands just a bit too close on the sidewalk. He’s got this invisible shield around both of you. He doesn’t even mean to; it’s just there instinctively.

So now imagine his face when his little girl starts ditching dolls and princesses for more  traditionally masculine things. 

Bucky is very supportive, although he has to manually override some of his 40s brain.

She loves the drums, and he’s all for it. He gets her lessons. He sits next to her during practice to catch all the sticks she drops trying to do complicated tricks. He high fives her whenever she does a sick beat. 

She’s also all about football (soccer). He notices it when she’s cheering for the women’s national team during the World Cup like her life depends on it. 

Bucky immediately starts looking at tryouts and academies. When she has a game, he’s out there on the sidelines, grinning whenever she does anything even remotely good, screaming encouragements when she loses the ball, and celebrating with her when she scores a goal.

But god, it’s hard for him to watch her take a tumble, all elbows and skinned knees. She hits the ground here and there and he winces every time, heart in his throat. He’s so adorably worried until she gets back up and gives her daddy a big thumbs up. 

And yet when she goes in for a not-so-great tackle, he’s the loudest one cheering on the field (and the first one complaining when the ref gives her a yellow card).

But then. Then she decides she wants to try Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. She says she wants to be tough, like him.

This is where Bucky might draw the line. “There’s no way,” he tells you. Not his little girl, rolling around on some mat with kids twice her size, learning to choke people out. 

It makes him think of all the things he’s done, the things he was forced to learn, the violence he was engineered to deliver, and he can’t bear the thought of her going anywhere near that world. 

He wants to shield her from it, to keep her protected, untouched by any of that.

You, of course, see right through him. You sit him down one night and tell him, gently but firmly, that she’s her own person. 

That she’s got his strength. And if she wants to do this, it’s because she wants to be more like him. Because she looks up to him. Because she thinks her daddy is the best person in the world.

It takes a while, but he comes around. But not only because his little girl wants to be like him, but also because he sees so much of you in her. 

You both have the same spark, the same drive, the same way of nudging him to grow. To challenge his thoughts and beliefs.

He watches his daughter march into her first Jiu-Jitsu class with this fierce little smile, the kind he remembers seeing on his own face back in the day.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s terrified. But he’s proud, too. Because she's challenging him to be better, braver, just by being herself. 

And every time he watches her spar, he finds himself cheering—softly, at first. Soon, he’s the loudest parent in the room. His little girl, fighting her own battles, just like her dad.

-

Steve Rogers

Steve Rogers would be a fantastic boy dad.

He’d never admit it, but part of him always fantasised having that kind of relationship with his own dad—playing catch and putting on barbecue, doing all those white picket fence  father-son things. But his dad died when he was young, and even if he hadn’t, Steve would be too small, too sickly, to keep up. 

Now, with a son of his own, he absolutely craves bonding with the kid. And of course he’d love him no matter what, but there's just enough super-soldier serum running through his son’s veins to let him be strong and athletic.

And for a while, everything’s perfect. Steve takes his boy to baseball games, teaches him to throw a curveball, and they spend endless afternoons in the yard sprinting (Steve slows down a bit) and throwing frisbees. During the summer, you could hear them both laughing and talking from sunrise to sunset. It’s everything he dreamed about.

But as his kid grows, Steve starts to feel a distance.

His son’s childhood is just... different.

He’s popular at school and his biggest worries seem to revolve around sports day, acing his tests, and keeping up with all the clubs and extra classes he’s signed up for. His son doesn’t have to fight his way through the day just to be heard or seen. People listen to him. He’s the kid everyone wants to be around. His friends look up to him.

Steve can’t help but remember how different his own childhood was—every day a fight just to prove himself, to survive in a world that didn’t give a weak kid like him any breaks.

He remembers those long, lonely days where he’d sit at the edge of the playground, watching the other boys run across the field, laughing and tackling each other in games he could never join. Sometimes, he’d be nursing a bruised rib or hiding a scraped knee, feeling a bit isolated. He remembers how desperately he’d wanted to be a part of it—to have a world that embraced him instead of challenging him at every turn.

Now, watching his son grow up so different from that—so at ease in his own skin—fills him with happiness. Still, Steve feels a strange tug in his heart. 

Steve can’t help but feel like he’s on the outside looking in, wondering if he can truly understand this world his son is growing up in. He’s scared that him and his son wouldn’t have anything in common anymore.

One evening, after the kid’s asleep, Steve finds himself talking to you for hours about his anxieties.

He tells you how strange it feels, how he doesn't know if he can relate to the person your son is becoming. He can’t shake the feeling that, in some way, his boy’s growing into a world Steve himself never got to experience. A world he cannot help him with.

But you’re there, holding his hand, reminding him that love doesn’t need to look like a mirror. 

A few days later, Steve goes to pick up his kid from school, and what he sees, he will never forget. 

His son was on the playground, standing tall, facing down some older kid who’d been picking on another student— a little boy in a wheelchair. 

Steve’s son was defending someone who couldn’t defend themselves, just like Steve would’ve done back in the day— just like he always does.

When they get home, Steve’s got tears in his eyes as he hugs his son, barely able to say how proud he is. He runs upstairs to tell you what your son did. 

After that moment, all his worries vanish. Steve’s son might not have his struggles, but he's got his heart. 

And that’s all you ever really wanted.

-

Sam Wilson

Sam Wilson as a dad? He’s wonderful. 

You’ve never seen someone so comfortable just rolling with whatever his kids throw at him. 

His little girl has him wrapped around her finger.

When she drags him into one of her imaginary plays, he dives right in without hesitation. 

The two of them have this whole routine now: she’ll declare herself the “Queen of Cupcakes,” and before you know it, Sam’s transformed into her nemesis, “The Grumpy Troll.” 

He’s got a whole stash of masks and scarves just for these characters. He looks ridiculous in a pink tutu and tiara, but he’d never miss the chance to be part of her little kingdom.

But his daughter is not only about tea parties— She’s only eight, but she’s strong-willed and headstrong. She insists on trying things herself first, even if she has to wrestle with it. 

One time Sam reached over to help her open a jar, and she looked up with the most serious little frown, shook her head, and said, “Daddy, I got it.” And she did, after two minutes of huffing and puffing. 

Another time, Sam finds his daughter in the kitchen, a stool dragged up to the counter, sleeves rolled up, determinedly making her own peanut butter sandwich. She’s got peanut butter smeared from cheek to elbow, but she’s concentrating hard, tongue poking out a little as she spreads it just right. When Sam offers to help, she shakes her head without even looking up, determined to get it done.

Then there’s his six year old little boy, who’s gentler, in that way that Sam is. He’s kind-hearted and hilarious in a way that catches you both by surprise. 

After every mission, his son’s the one who toddles over and asks, “Daddy, are you okay?” like he’s got this radar for how people are feeling. He reminds Sam of himself, especially when he worked at the VA.

Sam even found him in the backyard last week, carefully placing a bowl of water and crumbs of bread on the grass. He said “The little bird with the hurt wing might come back, and I don’t want him to be thirsty.”

Another time, he offered his favourite blanket to his sister when she had a cold, even though he always sleeps with it himself. He just tucked it around her shoulders, giving her a quick hug before running off.

And just like his dad, your son is very clingy— very attached to you. If he sees you’re tired, he’ll nestle up on the couch next to you. And when you’re out of the house, he’ll carry your sweater around, or ask a hundred times when you’re coming back.

On the first day of school, your son’s practically clinging to your leg, not quite ready to let go. His eyes are all big, and you could feel how nervous he is without you there. 

Sam crouched down and starts giving him one go his famous pep talks. Before he could finish, his big sister steps in. 

She promises him they’d sit together on the bus and during snack and lunch time, and that she’ll teach him how to be “brave like Daddy.”

Your son squeezes your hand one last time, then lets go, holding onto his sister’s instead as they both walk on the school bus.

“Did you see that?” Sam whispers, his voice full of pride. 

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. You lean back into him, watching your kids grow up in front of your eyes.

-end

[urno1luv]

Change of Heart 1/2

i made this little fic a few months ago... cant believe im posting this now😭😭

mean girl minjeong x reader. pretty overdone but it's too gooddd😩nothing explicit just winter falling for you

💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘

You had always been invisible to people like Minjeong.

She was the school’s queen bee, the one everyone gravitated toward, the girl whose smile could send anyone into a frenzy and whose stare could crush your confidence without a single word. You were nothing to her—just another nameless face in the halls of the school. Most of the time, you stayed out of her way, keeping your head down, avoiding eye contact, because if you looked at her for too long, you might end up the target of some cruel remark. It was easier to blend into the background.

But recently, things had changed.

At first, it was subtle—a glance, a flicker of interest that you couldn't quite place. You'd catch her eyes across the room in class, and instead of the usual cold, dismissive stare, she'd hold your gaze a moment longer, as if studying you. Sometimes, there would be a small, almost knowing smile, one that was too soft to belong to the same girl who'd humiliated you just a month ago.

Then, one day after class, she was there—waiting by your locker, arms crossed, leaning against the row of lockers as if she had all the time in the world. You froze, unsure whether to turn around and pretend you hadn’t seen her or face her directly.

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she looked you over with a strange intensity. This was a different Minjeong. Without her usual entourage, her sharp features seemed more like a weapon than before, aimed directly at you.

"You're still avoiding me," she said, her voice quiet but dripping with a certain edge. "I thought you'd be smarter than that."

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to react. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Minjeong took a slow step toward you, her heels clicking ominously against the floor. "Don’t play dumb. I’ve been watching you, and I don’t like being ignored. You think you can just disappear in the crowd like everyone else? Not when I’m paying attention to you." Her voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper. "I’ve noticed you, and that means you don’t get to just blend in anymore."

The tension in the air was palpable. You couldn’t breathe, and for some reason, your heart raced faster with every word she said. Minjeong wasn’t threatening you—not exactly. But there was something in her tone that made you feel like there were no options for escape, no way to get out of this situation cleanly.

"I’m not interested in your games," you said quickly, trying to sound firm, even though your voice was trembling slightly.

Minjeong’s lips curled into a smirk, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was sharper, more deliberate. “You think I’m playing games?” she murmured, stepping even closer, her body nearly pressed against yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just trying to figure you out. You’re different from everyone else here, and I can’t stand that. I need to know why. I need to know everything about you.”

You didn’t know how to respond. What did she want from you? Why was she suddenly so fixated on you?

Her eyes lingered on your face, unreadable, her breath just barely brushing against your skin. For a moment, you couldn’t even think straight.

“I don’t care what you think you know about me,” you stammered, your mind racing for something to say that would make her leave. “I’m not interested in being your—”

She cut you off with a soft laugh, and for a moment, you could almost feel the power shift. “You’re so desperate to push me away,” she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “But you don’t get to do that. Not anymore.” Her voice was low, almost soothing, but the words felt like a warning. “You think I won’t notice? You think you can hide from me?” She leaned in closer, just enough so that your breath hitched in your throat. “I’ve been paying attention. And soon, you’ll realize you’re exactly where I want you to be.”

Her words hung in the air long after she finished speaking, the weight of them pressing against you. You didn’t know what was happening, but you could feel her watching you, feeling you, in a way that made every fiber of your being scream to run.

But you couldn’t. Because when Minjeong finally stepped back, her eyes didn’t leave yours. They lingered, studying you as if she was deciding whether to let you go… or keep you in her sights a little longer.

“I’ll see you around,” she said finally, but the way she said it left no doubt—she would be around. You couldn’t escape her.

And the worst part was, for some reason, you didn’t even want to??

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

The doorbell buzzes. You loathe that noise. You stay as you are, unbothered by the visitor. You already hear Kitty asking Adrienne who it could be. 

You continue to shuffle through the contents of the cigar box. You’re neither surprised or disgusted by the love letters. You know your mother’s writing and you know it isn’t here. You always assumed your father was rotten to the core. No, you were certain of it. The proof only makes you feel worse for your mother. 

The door opens. There’s voices. Soft tones. Kitty’s, Adrienne’s and... his. 

Then, footfalls that ascend the stairs. Too heavy to be your sisters’. You close the box and toss it in the black bag. There is not box to keep. All your father’s stuff needs to go. You have no use for it. 

“You know I’m here,” Barnes says as he appears in the doorway. 

“I do,” you take the old baseball your father made you catch as a girl. He was always disappointed he never had a son. It makes you want to smile knowing he never got the thing he wanted the most. 

“You’ve had your time to mourn,” he says, and nothing else. His meaning is clear. 

You drop the ball and get off the floor. You cross to him with your head down. He’s stoic and still. You reach for his hand. That makes him flinch. As if he’s surprised. He lets you lift it and you kiss the ring on his pinky. 

You let him go and look him in the face, “he’s gone. It’s over. Let’s move on.” 

His brow arches and his eyes narrow. “You understand what happens now?” 

“You take care of my sisters. That’s all that matters to me.” 

“All about family,” he remarks. “Well, real family.” 

You’re silent. You don’t know what he wants you to say. Your heart is in your throat, can’t he see it beating there, choking you. 

“I showed you my loyalty. I did that and I will never tell a soul.” 

“Oh, I know, doll,” he smirks and shifts his weight. It’s your turn to wince as he brushes his knuckles along your cheek. “I don’t just want that loyalty for one night.” 

You blink and fight not to let your fear show. It’s all so uncertain yet deep down you know exactly what he means. It just seems all too much. 

“Sit down,” he drops his hand and turns. He shuts the door. 

You avoid your father’s bed and instead, sit at the vanity where your mother would perch and apply her night cream. He paces and puts his hands in his pockets. He exhales and measures the air. 

“It’s sorted. Everyone knows what happened. Vengeance is taken, the tables are balanced,” he says. “So we move forward. Your sisters are protected. They will have roofs over their head. You will too.” 

You stare at him, waiting for the other shoe. 

“Doll,” he tilts his head, “why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Just say it,” you sniff. 

“Say what?” 

“Tell me what it costs,” you sneer. 

He snickers, “that’s what I admire about you. You don’t beat around the bush. You come to my office, tell me to off daddy. You won’t even let me charm ya, dammit. You just wanna get down to business.” 

“Please,” you beg. “I... I can’t take any more.” 

His expression softens and he approaches you delicately, like an animal he doesn’t want to scare off, “we’re gonna have a big wedding, doll. You’re gonna wear the most expensive thing you can find, and we’re gonna drive off into the sunset together.” 

You gulp and search his face. It sounds ridiculous. You don’t know this man, he doesn’t know you. Yet, he’s the only man who knows what you did. Who know that you could do something like that. 

“Ah, come on, I’m a real man,” he unbuttons his jacket and reaches inside. “I’m more than words.” He takes out a hexagonal velvet box. “So, let me know if it fits.” 

You hesitate but accept the box. You open it with some effort, the hinges are tight. You snap the lid up and stare at the ring within. It has a large teardrop diamond at the center and four decent sized ovals to each side, with little round diamonds worked in between. The gold gleams with the elaborate style of the thick band. 

You slide it out and turn it in your fingers. It has to be worth more than all the stuff your daddy pawned off. More than even this house. You roll it over again and line up your finger with the band. You push into it and it fits snugly below your knuckle, covering half your finger. 

“Too big,” you say. 

“Loose?” He wonders as he leans a hand on the vanity table. 

“No, it’s... clunky,” you wiggle your hand. 

“Never thought I’d hear a woman complain a rock was too big,” he says. “Doll, I expect you to show off. You’re mine, I’m yours. That’s something to brag about.” 

“Flashy. Distracting,” you comment. 

“Any man stupid enough to try to steal that off ya, he won’t be thinking much longer,” he insists and grabs your hand. “Come here.” 

He tugs you until your standing. He admires the ring on your finger and his cheeks dimple as he grins. He puts your hand on his shoulder and wraps his other arm around you. Sweat beads across your scalp and down your back. He’s so close you can smell his mellow cologne. 

“Always good to have more to love, isn’t it?” his fingers curl into the cushion of your hip as he crushes you against him. He brings his palm up to cradle your face as his eyes drift down to your lips. He purrs and rocks you.  

You shudder as your breath catches in your chest. The idea never fully bloomed in your head. You never dared to imagine this. Yet here it and it’s more startling than anything you could ever fathom. 

He turns his hand to frame your chin and pulls you even closer. He leans in and presses his mouth to yours. His beard tickles you as his lips caress yours and his tongue pokes out coyly. You close your eyes as you open up to let him in. 

Your heart thrums behind your ears as you seal your deal with that kiss. You didn’t barter for your freedom, just another master. 

[emmyrosee]

GIRL I GOT ANOTHER IDEA SO EXCUSE ME😝

SO u come back from work super tired from a really hard day and have no energy to take ur makeup off so sukuna offers to do it for u and LET ME TELL YOU this man does not know how to do anything without being aggressive 🙄(typical) so hes drowning the cotton pad in makeup remover and starts aggressively rubbing on ur face purposely just to make u laugh and ur giggling and laughing and slapping his chest telling him to stop cause he’s getting the remover in ur eye and he has no idea what he’s doing THEN ITS ENDS UP BEING ALL KISSY AND STUFF ANYWAY BYE❤️❤️❤️🩷

-Anon🥢

IM GOING TO- *combusts*

———

The way you haphazardly toss your keys on the table, only for them to slip and fall off is exactly the last thing you need.

After today, where one step forward was three back, where nothing went right and nothing was easy, the sight of your keys on the floor has your body tensing in annoyance and shrills of angst down your spine.

You let out a shaky sigh, “I’m home!”

No reply. Your hands ball into fists, “I SAID IM HOME!”

“DAMN I heard you, gimme three seconds!” A gruff voice calls back. You can’t fight the smirk that wants to spread on your tired features, and your hands come up to rub your exhausted eyes. Loud footsteps come down the hall and you drop your hands to blink at him. He snorts, “raccoon looking ass.”

“Oh. Right. I was wearing mascara.”

“It’s fine, not like you’ve got to impress me anyways,” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “how was your day?”

“Terrible,” you whine. You angle your head to look up at him, “can’t I just be your pretty girlfriend and you provide for me?”

He snickers, “I offered, you told me that if you didn’t have independence you’d smother me with a pillow. So no. You can’t.” You groan and bury your face in his chest, and he clicks his tongue, “I can take care of you now, though. If you beg prettily enough.”

“You’re going to make your overworked, burnt out, exhausted future wife beg for your attention?”

“No. I’m going to make her beg to be babied.”

You paw at his chest, fingers fisting the collar of his shirt, “please, sukuna, take care of me for a bit. I’m so tired, and you know how much I already hate asking for your help, but I need you. Please, I just want to be loved for a bit.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, “that’s more like it. C’mon-“ he bends down to hook his massive hands under your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. You giggle and instinctively tighten your arms around his shoulders, “let’s get your clown makeup off.”

“‘S not clown makeup,” you pout, playing with the hair of his buzz cut. “Tell me I’m pretty.”

“Dawg.”

“Please?” You mewl, pulling back to look down at him, and he rolls his eyes and nudges the bathroom door open with his knee.

“Fuck, you’re really in a headspace huh?” He says, plopping you on the counter. He braces himself on either side of your legs, and he looks you up and down. “Of course you’re beautiful, baby. Taking a lot of control to not smother you right now. Especially with you all pliant, fuck you’re so pretty. Let me take care of you, yeah? Let me make ya feel better.”

“Okay,” you hum. He leans up to press a kiss to your lips before opening the drawer for a cotton square he knows he’s seen you use before. Then, he reaches just behind you to the small shelf, and grabs your makeup remover. “You know what you’re doing?” You ask.

“Babe, I’ve seen you do this more times than I care to count,” he scoffs. “Trust me. I know far too much about what I’m doing.” He pops off the cap and absolutely drenches the poor cotton in an overwhelming amount of makeup remover. He starts to bring it to your eyes, and you laugh and duck away.

“Baby, that’s too much!”

“More makeup remover, more makeup removed,” he says, and while his logic is wrong, you do giggle at the idea he’s trying to help, and while it’s amusing, you don’t want to lose this domesticity with him either.

So, you close your eyes and laugh more as he applies the wet cotton round to your eyes, pressing hard enough the juices spill over your cheeks. “Sukuna!” You titter.

“You want this done or not?” He asks, smearing the cotton around your eye and cheek to try and swipe off any makeup clinging to you. He’s rough with his wiping, pulling your eyes and making your cheeks hot from friction, and you swat at his hands to try and make some relief. “Okay, now you’re hindering.”

“It burns,” you confess, but you’re still laughing.

You practically feel the air go from goofy to panic, “what burns, what do you mean it burns, why does it burn, it doesn’t burn when you do it right?”

“Chill, you big baby,” you snort. “It’s in my eye because you used all 200% of your strength on my damn socket. Just get me a wet cloth, it’ll be fine.”

You watch him fling open the closet door and grab a small washcloth, dampening it with water before passing it to you. He clicks his tongue, “for reference, this is why I never offer to help you.”

“Because you use your brute strength and power to battle the very-easily-removable-mascara from my eyes?”

“Exactly.”

You smile up at him while he tosses the cotton round in the trash, only to then scowl down at you when he meets your gaze. “The fuck’re you looking at?”

“My boyfriend, who loves me,” you coo, and he rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocate.

“He smeared makeup all over your face,” he snickers. “You look rough.”

“That’s okay,” you shrug. “He tried his best.”

“Ew.”

[junethestudent]

Aespa Gangbang

» Aespa x Rival Idol F! Reader

[Minjeong and Jimin are G!P]

Word Count: 2.4K

Content Warning: Dubcon, G!P, degrading, and swearing.

A/N: Sorry for not including Ning's concept photo, I didn't like how it was organized all together. :/

As you awaken you can hear harsh ringing in your ears, your mind drawing a blank as you survey your surroundings. A deep ache rushes all throughout your body as you force yourself upward, head spinning from the all too sudden movement. Even though you’re on a bed you feel no comfort anywhere, your joints popping as you move.

“Aww.. she’s finally awake,” you hear a teasing voice call out from behind. You find yourself face to face with four women, women you knew all too well. 

“You were talking a lot of stuff on the internet, why not now?” Jimin circles around you as if you were her prey, her little plaything for tonight. It makes your heart drop down to your stomach.

The truth is, you knew why you were here. You never thought that they would respond after you had bashed them on the internet, dirtying their group name on an Instagram live. It honestly was for attention, you had never intended for anyone of them to actually respond. 

“Hopefully by the end of tonight you’ll come to find your place. Below us.” Jimin looks back at the other three, smirking as they rise up, all of them standing above you. They all seem to be asserting their dominance in some way - especially Jimin, mostly Jimin.

“She’s even cuter in person, even cuter than when she was talking shit on us,” Aeri drops down to your level, flipping her pastel pink hair back to observe you better. Jimin shoots an annoyed look at Aeri’s comment, but it only makes her giggle, her eyes still set on you. 

The numbness that was once spread throughout your body has now vanished, the feeling returning in your limbs as you back away from Aeri.

“I.. I’ll tell everyone about this! You can’t just do what you want with me,” the way you stutter over your words is doing nothing to help your case.

Aeri scoffs, ignoring your little outburst and forcing your body around, your back to her chest. “You just talk and talk.. and talk. Put a wrap on it, hm? Who would listen to you?” 

There was some truth in her words. Although you were a popular soloist you were nowhere near Aespa’s level. They all knew that, they knew they were the shit. 

You knew that too, so when Aeri forced your legs open, you only slightly struggled against her. There was no chance you were winning a fight with all four of them. 

Jimin is clearly enjoying how helpless you look, the corners of her mouth struggling to suppress a bitchy smile. She bends down, level with your thigh as she holds it to the side. 

“Come make yourself useful Ning.. someone else needs to hold her other thigh down so Jeongie can get it in there.” Aeri says it slowly, letting it sink into your mind. 

“Yeah if poor Jeongie can get it up,” Ning retorts back at Aeri, dropping down to keep your other leg pulled to the side. Minjeong looks embarrassed, she clearly was not on the level of sassiness the others were on. 

“Aww.. be nice to her. Y’know she’s insecure about that.” Aeri locks your arms around her own, her legs slipped under your own to keep you from moving around. 

Minjeong shuffles over, swallowing hard as she struggles to remove her cock from her skirt. She was so hard that a tent had formed in her skirt, her dick begging to be freed. She’s so hesitant to touch you, to even lift up your own skirt. 

“Fuck Jeongie.. hurry the hell up,” Jimin pushes her back hard, making Minjeong instantly pull your skirt up, her other hand slipping your soaked panties to the side.

Truthfully, this entire situation was getting you all hot and bothered. You hadn’t had time for previous hookups, not with your recent promotion schedule. Did you want to submit to them? No. Was your pussy speaking for you? Yeah.. 

“Damn.. her cunt is wet,” you can hear Aeri whisper into your ear, talking to no one in particular. Her little comments make you throb so damn bad. 

Minjeong has finally managed to free her cock, was a bit smaller but still actively growing.. a lot, with a few prominent veins. Not that you were observing or anything.. you were.

You watch as she struggles to touch her own cock, already feeling sensitive from the confines of her skirt. Eventually she holds her cock at the base, rubbing it in between your slit, collecting the slip on her tip. 

It makes her shutter, her body tensing as she finally slips it inside of you, soft moans escaping her lips. “Do you feel good Jeongie?” Aeri teases at her, fascinated with how much Minjeong is moaning. 

You on the other hand are desperately trying not to freak as she holds herself deep into you, her hips slowly but firmly bucking into you. You have the urge to moan in sync with Jeongie, but you are quickly cut off as Aeri holds your face, forcing you to kiss her deeply.

She tastes so good, smells so good. But at this angle it’s almost impossible to get in a full kiss, so you definitely look pitiful to her as you pull your neck back. 

“I think she likes me,” Aeri leans back, letting you rest on her chest, her boobs practically smothering your face. “She only wants attention because she’s a little whore.. doesn’t mean she likes you,” Ning sounds so irritated with the little attention she’s recieving. 

She fixes that herself though, letting go of your leg and scooting to your side, both hands on your face as she slips her tongue in your mouth, restricting your air as you both make out. 

They’re all over you, Minjeong pumping inside of you with no exact thrusting pattern, Aeri watching you from above as Ning basically french kisses you, and then there’s Jimin.. Jimin. 

Considering it was her idea she looks all but pleased with how Minjeong is allowed to hog your dripping pussy. She’s annoyed enough that when Minjeong starts flailing around, balls pulsing as she grows closer to blowing her load in you, she throws her back, Minjeong slamming into the ground.

“I don’t remember saying you all were allowed first pick.” She spits out, taking Minjeong’s place between your legs, a frown imminent on her face. 

“..Min what the fuck? You really wanna throw a tantrum right now?” Aeri slides out from under you, leaving Ning above your face, her first instinct being removing her own pants. 

Aeri rubs her forehead, walking behind Jimin to pull Minjeong up, her cock still hard and twitching as she whines into Aeri’s chest. Jimin ignores it, as she does most times she is any type of upset. 

Jimin is mad at them but she’s glaring at you, the one person she can take her anger out on. She whips her cock out, breaking the zipper on her skirt as she rips it off. Jimin gives you little to no time to prepare, jamming it inside of you, her tip hitting your cervix.

It makes you cringe, the sudden force against it is enough to make you cry out. Not that Jimin really cares about your feelings in any way. 

She just keeps pounding into you, your body flailing as she holds your hips, working her way as deep as possible inside of you.

Jimin had been your main focus for some minutes until you remembered Ning was right above you, playing with her wet folds as she watches your pained expression as Jimin ruins you. 

“You forget about me?” She stares down at you, her pants nowhere to be found as she pulls her panties to the side, lowering herself down onto your face. You were anything but ready as her cunt smothers you, her hips riding your face, thighs at the sides of your head. 

She tastes so yummy to you, your tongue swirling around her clit and folds, just tongue fucking the life out of her. You can hear Jimin arguing with Aeri as she continues to beat the fuck out of your pussy, her tip still kissing at your cervix. 

The sound is faint, though, as Ning has her thighs so hard against your head that you can feel pressure rising. She’s more than close to cumming as she begins bouncing up and down, practically riding your nose now. 

She moans one last time before she stops, her body still but her breath heavy as she cums on you, the wetness of it dripping down your face. “F-Fuck.. didn’t think she’d actually cooperate,” Ning stumbles through her words as she slips off of you, legs shaking uncontrollably.

Only now can you hear Aeri and Jimin’s argument clearly. “If Minjeong wasn’t such a pussy hog.. this wouldn’t be a problem,” you hadn’t noticed before but she seriously stopped thrusting just to argue.

Minjeong buries her face deep in Aeri’s breasts, her dick spewing out precum as Aeri gently jerks at it, teasing especially at the tip. “You can share Min.. go on Jeongie.” 

Minjeong sheepishly approaches you and Jimin, sliding herself under you, her legs spread out to match yours. “Double penetration? You better keep up Minjeong.” 

Double penetration? Absolutely not. You would accept most of their abuse and torment but not double penetration.. there was no way your hole was fitting two cocks at the same time. 

“No fucking way! You’re not doing that..” you kick back at Jimin, your leg missing her by an inch. She scowls at you, both hands pushing your thighs back. 

“How about you shut your little mouth and spread those pretty legs for us, yeah? Be a good girl?” She gives your pussy a little smack, spreading your folds so Minjeong can push her dick inside of you. 

You can feel your opening start to hurt as Minjeong’s cock head pushes into you, your pussy stretching as both cocks move inside of you at different speeds. 

Jimin’s pace is firm and rough, each thrust carefully calculated, as if she were making sure you hurt just a bit. Minjeong on the other hand was just thrusting erratically with no pace in particular. Regardless, your back aches so much with how they keep abusing your little pussy, both cocks working to break you. 

“Damn.. poor thing. You’re not gonna join Aeri?” Ning says as she watches from afar, satisfied with her small fix of you. As soon as those meatheads finished fooling around she’d scavenge you for seconds. 

“I’m waiting, let them fight. I’ll have her to myself eventually.” She smiles as she watches them pound the everloving life out of you. Like Ning, she preferred to wait for you and let the others be foolish. 

Jimin and Jeongie are paying no attention to the girls’ conversation, more focused on blowing their loads deep inside of your cunny. You can tell Jimin’s close, her eyes zeroed in on her cock moving in and out of your pussy. 

She doubles down, sandwiching you in between the two as she shudders, her balls emptying every drop of cum deep into you, shoulders flexed and eyes rolled all the way back. Minjeong bursts a few seconds late of Jimin, her load shooting way stronger to the point you can feel the pressure for a second. 

“Cumming.. I came..” throughout the entire encounter those were the only words you ever heard from Jeongie. She was such a skittish little baby.. 

Pulling out, Jimin wipes the remains of her cum on your thigh, standing up to take a breath, her eyes down on you. “And I bet she’ll still be taking more dick by the time I’ve returned.” Jimin sounds so grumpy as she speaks - she clearly has no intention of letting your words go. 

“And then there was one.. oh and you Ning.” Aeri jumps up, swaying straight towards you. She was an angel to look at, her curvy body and big boobs mesmerizing you. 

She guides you to her, leaving the now sleeping Jeongie passed out on the floor, cum dripping onto her tummy. “You already know what’s coming, spread it open honey.” She coos so sweetly into your ear. God.. you just wanted to do everything she said. She was a sweet talker.

“Good girl..” she speaks so highly of you as you open your legs, your soaked pussy still twitching from its prior treatment. She teases your clit with one finger, rubbing it back and forth as her other hand collects Jeongie and Jimin’s dripping semen. 

“They filled you all up didn’t they? Makes me want a dick too,” Aeri murmurs into your ear, finger pressed down on your clit, trying to draw a reaction from you. 

Fuck it felt good, that fuzzy feeling you get before you cum returning. Your pussy is all achey, craving friction within your walls. Aeri knows that, two of her fingers slipping inside, curving upward and making you jolt back into her. 

“Oh? Did that just feel so good, hm? Did you like that baby?” Aeri teases, planting soft kisses on your neck as she works her fingers into your cunt. “Are you being such a good girl for me?” 

You nod, not giving a damn if Ning or Jeongie or even Jimin is watching. You want Aeri’s praise, her attention and single finger she’s willing to use on you. Aeri gives you just that, using two fingers to pull at your clit and two fingers to pump into your sensitive hole. 

It makes you squirm, body rocking onto her as you grow closer to orgasming, your clit all puffy and swollen from her little acts of torture. 

“You don’t have to be so reserved.. be a good girl and cum for me.” Aeri removes her fingers from your hole, focusing mainly on your clit as she aggressively rubs it. Each movement makes you moan out, arms clenched by your sides. 

You’re so close and you know it, she knows it. You’re throbbing, body sweaty as she speeds up her finger, rubbing so fast and making you clench, ready for it.

That familiar warmth washes over you, heart racing and breathing labored as you orgasm, your body all fuzzy as the feeling fades just as quickly as it came. Aeri holds you close, letting you breathe for a moment. 

“I guess it’s a good thing you talked all that ish.” 

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts XIV

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Aemond wallows in his grief over Valaena.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Grief, Desperation, Heartbreak, Talks of Euthanasia, Attempt at Euthanasia.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 4465

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The days had blurred into an endless stream of anxious hours. Aemond stared wordlessly out the window, his gaze vacant, face drawn and pale.

It had been over two weeks since Valaena had slipped into unconsciousness, and each day she remained silent, Aemond felt himself slipping further into despair.

Gerardys attended to Valaena daily, meticulously ensuring she received nourishment and care, his expression tightening each time Aemond asked if there was any sign of improvement.

Lirri and Arro had taken to caring for the children, who missed their mother terribly, not fully understanding what was going on.

Aemond himself had hardly eaten or slept. His usually pristine silver hair hung tangled, his appearance dishevelled. He spent nearly every hour by Valaena’s side, laying beside her, listening to the soft, rhythmic beat of her heart.

Sometimes, he would clutch her hand and sob, his pleas spilling out in quiet desperation, “Please-please, my love, come back to me. I can’t live without you.”

Family and friends came often, each one sharing their love, speaking as though their words alone could bring her back.

Rhaenyra would sit by her daughter’s side, clutching her hand, and Daemon would stand nearby, his hand occasionally brushing over Valaena’s dark hair.

Jace and Luke shared stories, speaking of their own daughters and laughing softly, trying to bring warmth into the room.

Alicent held Aemond often, her own tears mingling with his as she begged him to eat, to rest, to care for himself.

But nothing anyone did or said could reach him.

Even his new, unnamed son, waiting to be held by his father, had yet to meet him.

Aemond refused to see him, insisting that he would wait until Valaena could be there too.

One afternoon, as Gerardys was finishing his usual checks, Aemond whispered, “Is there any change?”

Gerardys let out a weary sigh and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my prince.”

Aemond’s heart dropped, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s still face. He hardly noticed when Gerardys left the room.

There was a knock on the door, and Aegon stepped in, his expression shifting as he saw his brother’s grief-stricken face.

“What did he say?” Aegon asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper. “There’s no improvement. S-She still won’t wake.” His voice broke, and he turned away, clutching the edge of the bed as though it could anchor him. “What if she never does?” he gasped, his face crumpling. “I-I can’t lose her, Aegon. I just can’t.”

Aegon crossed the room, wrapping his arm around Aemond’s shoulders. “Hey-it’s okay,” he said softly, his voice gentle. “Let it out.”

Aemond resisted, but only for a moment before he collapsed against Aegon, his body racked with sobs.

“W-What if she doesn’t wake up. I can’t lose her” he choked, the raw fear and sorrow cutting through every word.

“You won’t lose her,” Aegon murmured, his voice steady even as his own heart twisted painfully.

He had rarely seen Aemond cry, and never with such anguish.

Quietly, he brushed his fingers through Aemond’s tangled hair, trying to comfort him as best he could.

“Is she not responding at all?” Aegon asked gently after a few moments.

“N-No,” Aemond replied, his voice hoarse “How am I supposed to live without her?”

Aegon took a deep breath and, with quiet certainty, said, “You won’t have to. Valaena will come back to you. She loves you too much to leave you—not after everything you two went through just to be together.”

“I-I just—”

“No,” Aegon interrupted, his voice firm. “You listen to me. Valaena loves you, and she will come back. She’s fighting her way back to you, I know it.”

Aemond took a shaky breath, nodding as he wiped his tears furiously. He glanced at Valaena, his heart aching with every beat.

“I hope you’re right, Aegon,” he whispered. “I really, really do.”

Days passed, and Aemond felt hope slipping through his fingers. Each morning, as he opened his eye beside Valaena’s still form, the weight of despair grew heavier.

His sister, Helaena, would visit frequently, talking in her quiet, lilting voice about crickets and how they would all sing together again.

Although he didn’t understand her words fully, he found comfort in them—a flicker of brightness in the midst of his grief.

Rhaegar and Elaena would bring small bouquets of flowers, placing them tenderly by their mother’s side.

Daenys, too young to understand, would pat her mother’s arm, murmuring, “Mama, mama,” in her small, confused voice.

Each of her innocent touches and soft calls felt like a dagger to Aemond’s heart.

He tried to stay strong for them, though with each passing day, it felt like his own strength was crumbling.

However, on one of Gerardys' routine visits, the tension reached breaking point.

Gerardys moved from one side of the bed to the other, checking Valaena’s pulse and her pallor.

His sigh was heavy, and his eyes held none of the hope Aemond longed to see.

“It has been over four weeks,” Gerardys said gravely. “And still, there is no sign of improvement.”

Aemond’s hands gripped Rhaenyra’s tightly, his heart pounding painfully. When he glanced at his good mother, he saw her own pain mirrored in her eyes.

“Is there truly nothing more you can do?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice strained with desperation.

“I am afraid not, Your Grace,” Gerardys replied, shaking his head. “I have tried everything within my knowledge and means. The princess simply does not respond.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, and his voice came out rough, nearly a whisper. “If she doesn’t wake up what will happen to her?”

Gerardys hesitated, his expression a mix of compassion and sorrow. “If she remains in this state, it is likely her body will eventually begin to weaken, and she may pass away-but there are also ways to help her pass-to end her suffering”

Aemond's brow furrowed. “What do you mean, help her pass?”

Gerardys looked between Aemond and Rhaenyra who nodded before speaking. “The Queen and I, along with her council have discussed the possibility of administering a high dose of sweet sleep to the Princess. It would allow her to pass peacefully.”

For a moment, Aemond was too stunned to respond, his mind reeling. “You-you want to kill her?”

“Please, my prince,” Gerardys said, raising a placating hand. “Allow me to explain—”

“Get out” Aemond’s voice was a low, dangerous whisper, but his expression blazed with fury.

Rhaenyra reached for him, pleading softly, “Aemond, please. Try to understand that—”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”  His shout rang through the room, raw and filled with rage and pain.

Without another word, Gerardys bowed his head and quickly left the room, and Rhaenyra followed after him, her shoulders slumped.

As soon as they were gone, Aemond rushed to the door, slamming it shut and locking it behind them.

He turned back to Valaena, his chest heaving. Sitting by her side, he took her hand in his, pressing it to his lips.

“I won’t let them- I won’t let them take you from me-” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Aemond clutched her hand, drawing it to his heart. He sat like that for hours, unmoving, praying that somewhere deep within, she could hear him.

Aemond barred the door to the room, turning away every visitor, every knock, every entreaty to let someone in. He didn’t want anyone near Valaena, didn’t want anyone near them.

He was done with their attempts to comfort him or, worse, convince him to let her go.

As he sat slumped against the wall, Gerardys’ words replayed over and over in his mind: that she may never awaken, that her body would weaken until eventually, she would pass.

The suggestion of sweet sleep to ease her passing had ignited anger so fierce it had consumed him, but now, in the stillness, that anger simmered into something else entirely—.

The ache in his chest was so raw, so all-consuming, that he felt as if he were being hollowed out from the inside, his heart twisted into a mass of pain he could barely breathe around.

The thought of her slipping further and further away, of her body growing frailer with each day, was like a knife twisting in his heart.

He didn’t want her to waste away; he didn’t want her to be in pain.

Slowly, he got to his feet and approached the bed, his gaze fixed on Valaena’s face.

She was so beautiful—ethereal, almost as if she were caught between this world and another.

Her skin was pale, but her features were softened, the gentle rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life, and with every second, he feared it would be the last.

Even in this slumber, she was radiant, a vision of the fierce and tender woman he loved more than life itself.

It was almost cruel, the way her beauty remained undisturbed, untouched by the weight of what they were enduring.

He couldn’t look away; he was terrified that if he did, he’d forget this moment, the way she looked, lost in a place he could not reach.

In his mind, she was still full of life, laughing, fierce and strong. He closed his eye, recalling her strength, the fire in her gaze that had captivated him from the beginning.

Wanting to remember her as she was.

Aemond picked up a pillow, clutching it in his shaking hands. He remembered what she had said to him in their cabin.

‘Just promise me one thing. If I am to die, I would rather it be by your hand’

She’d made him promise. The thought of letting her linger in this half-life, slipping further from him, made him feel like he was failing her.

Taking a shaky breath, he lifted the pillow, his vision blurring as he held it above her face.

Every fibre in his being screamed at him to let her go, to do the one thing he could do to free her from this endless silence.

But standing here, the pillow shaking in his hands, he couldn’t bear it.

Looking down at her face, so still and beautiful, he saw the traces of her smile, the faint lines around her eyes from all their laughter, all the quiet moments they’d shared.

Memories surged forward—Valaena laughing, Valaena fierce and defiant, Valaena holding their children.

His hand dropped slightly, then his grip loosened, and the pillow slipped from his fingers onto the floor.

He stumbled back, horrified at what he had almost done. He pressed a hand to his mouth, his breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

“I-I can’t do it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His chest felt as though it would shatter from the weight of it all. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry-”

Weakly, he lowered himself to his knees by the bed, clutching the sheets as he buried his face in them.

“Please come back to me,” he whispered, his voice raw with desperation. “Please, I can’t do this without you. I don’t know exist without you.”

After a long, silent moment, he pulled himself up, he leaned forward and kissed her gently on her lips before he laid down on the bed, drawing her close.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his forehead to her shoulder, feeling the faint warmth of her skin.

 “Sleep as long as you need to, love. I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll take care of you.”

With his arms wrapped around her, he rested his head beside hers, feeling the faint warmth of her skin against his own.

As he drifted off to sleep, he let himself hope—fragile, desperate hope—that somewhere, somehow, she could hear him.

Aemond was soaring through a vast, endless sky, the blue stretching out forever above him, beneath him, and all around.

Vhagar’s mighty wings carried him effortlessly as he glanced over to see Valaena riding alongside him, Silverwing gliding through the air.

Her dragon’s silver scales gleamed in the sunlight, and Valaena herself was laughing—a bright, carefree sound that echoed around them.

Aemond felt joy fill him as he watched her lean forward, urging Silverwing into a dive. She tucked her wings close to her body and plunged toward the glittering sea below, the wind rushing past in a blur of motion.

At the last moment, Silverwing pulled up, wings slicing across the ocean’s surface so close that sprays of water fanned out behind her, shimmering in the sunlight.

Aemond laughed, his voice echoing with pride and exhilaration, as he shouted, “Show-off!”

Valaena threw her head back in laughter, her dark hair streaming in the wind, her voice bright and filled with a joy he hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.

But suddenly, a flash of blinding light tore across the sky, so fierce that he instinctively shielded his face.

Blinking, he looked around in panic. “Valaena!” he shouted, desperation cracking his voice. “Don’t go towards it—stay by my side!”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a strange, echoing silence.

Then, her voice drifted through the air, soft but clear. “Is not my time,” she said, her words rippling through the air like a gentle breeze.

“No, not yet. Come with me,” he pleaded, his heart hammering in his chest.

Valaena hesitated, glancing toward the bright light in the distance.

But then she turned Silverwing, guiding her away from the beckoning glow.

She followed him, and together, they flew back toward King’s Landing, circling the Red Keep in unison before landing in a green, sunlit meadow just outside the walls.

Aemond descended from Vhagar’s saddle, climbing down the sturdy rope ladder.

He barely had time to turn before Valaena was there, sliding gracefully down Silverwing’s wing and landing with a soft thud on the grass.

Aemond felt his breath catch as he closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent, feeling her warmth against him, tangible and solid.

He whispered against her ear, “I love you-”

Before she could reply, footsteps sounded in the distance. Aemond turned to see Helaena approaching, her eyes soft and distant, a serene smile playing across her lips. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze.

“The crickets will sing together again,” she said quietly, her voice lilting with a familiar, otherworldly calm.

Aemond furrowed his brow, confusion knitting his expression. “Helaena, what—?”

But before he could finish, she turned and walked away, humming softly to herself, her voice fading into the distance.

Aemond glanced back at Valaena, who simply shrugged and took his hand. She looked at him, her gaze warm and full of affection.

“Let’s go home,” she murmured, her voice soft and comforting, her words echoing around him as the world began to fade.

Aemond’s eye fluttered open, the remnants of the dream lingering as a dull ache in his chest.

For a brief, beautiful moment, he half-expected to see Valaena there beside him, her smile bright, her eyes filled with that warm, knowing light.

But as he blinked, the cold darkness of the room settled around him, and the fog of sleep cleared, allowing the painful truth to seep in.

It had only been a dream.

Reality crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he clenched his fists, feeling an unbearable weight in his chest.

The vividness of the dream—the warmth of her laughter, the thrill of flying together, the strength of her arms around him—had felt so real, so heartbreakingly close.

But now, she lay beside him unmoving, locked in a silent slumber.

Aemond let out a shuddering breath as he realized how foolish it had been, to believe even for a second that she might have woken, that she might be well again.

A faint spark of hope that had flickered in his chest during the dream faded, replaced by a hollow, gnawing grief.

He turned toward her, studying her face—the face that had smiled at him moments ago, so vibrant and alive.

But now, her expression was empty, serene but lifeless, her shallow breaths offering a miniscule amount of comfort.

He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, hesitant, as if to touch her would shatter the fragile illusion he’d clung to in the haze of sleep.

His fingers brushed over her cold skin, and he felt an ache so deep it threatened to unravel him.

Aemond drifted into another restless sleep, but a faint sensation roused him—a delicate brush of movement against his hand.

At first, he thought he was still dreaming, that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But the gentle twitch continued, soft and real, grounding him back in the present.

His eye flew open, heart pounding, and he looked in disbelief as Valaena’s fingers moved, curling ever so slightly against his.

He sat up with a jolt, staring at her face.

Her eyelids fluttered, and then they slowly opened.

 With a quiet gasp, he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing across her soft skin. "I knew you'd come back to me," he whispered, voice breaking with relief and disbelief.

Tears spilled from his eye as he leaned down, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, his arms wrapping around her protectively. "Thank the gods-”

Aemond felt her hand, still weak, but unmistakably real, move to rest on his head. Her fingers stroked gently through his unkempt hair, a familiar, tender gesture.

A shiver ran through him as he held her closer, feeling the weight of his anguish begin to lift, replaced by an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.

For a long moment, he stayed there, sobbing quietly, pouring weeks of heartache and fear into her presence.

Valaena’s touch anchored him, assuring him of her return.

When he finally looked up, her gaze met his, tired but warm, filled with a quiet strength. His heart clenched as he took her face in his hands, memorizing every detail.

"I was so afraid," he murmured, voice trembling. "Afraid I'd lost you forever."

She managed a faint smile, her eyes filled with the same love that had carried them through every trial before this.

 "I’m here," she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely more than a breath. "I’m here, my love."

Aemond kissed her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally her lips, a desperate and reverent touch, as though it might bind her to him forever.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt peace.

“Our son?” Valaena’s voice was soft, hoarse from the long silence she’d endured during her coma, but it was full of that familiar warmth Aemond had missed so much.

Aemond’s smile faltered, and he looked down at her. His heart ached to see the longing in her eyes, but he kept his voice steady as he responded, “I haven’t seen him, not yet.”

Valaena frowned slightly. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but her gaze searching his face for an answer.

“I-I wanted us to see him together,” Aemond said, his throat tightening at the memory of the promise he’d made to her, the one he had struggled to hold on to in the weeks since her coma.

Valaena’s lips curved into a gentle smile, a glimmer of her usual warmth returning. “Can we see him now?” she asked, her eyes softening.

Aemond nodded and stood up, walking toward the door. His heart swelled as he imagined the moment when Valaena would finally get to hold their child. He unlocked the door and called for Lirri.

A few moments later, Lirri appeared, her expression concerned as she saw Aemond’s face. “What’s wrong, my prince?” she asked quietly.

“Could you bring me the babe?” Aemond asked, his voice low.

Lirri nodded and, without hesitation, disappeared into her chambers. A few minutes later, she returned, carrying a small, swaddled bundle in her arms.

She gently placed the baby into Aemond’s arms, and he held the tiny form, feeling the weight of it settle against his chest.

“Thank you, Lirri,” Aemond said, his voice filled with gratitude. He shut the door behind her and returned to Valaena’s side.

With a tender smile, he carefully placed their son on her chest. Valaena’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed down at the small bundle, her fingers trembling as she lightly traced the baby’s tiny features.

“He looks just like you,” she whispered, her voice full of awe as she stared at the baby.

Aemond couldn’t help but smile as he looked at their son, his heart filled with a profound love that he could barely put into words.

He stroked his son’s cheek gently, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry that I waited this long to meet you properly,” he murmured, regret lacing his words.

Valaena reached out, her hand taking his in a gentle, soothing gesture. She kissed his palm softly, and Aemond’s eye closed briefly at the touch.

When she pulled away, her gaze returned to their son, her expression tender.

“Does he have a name?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost like a prayer.

Aemond’s eyes met hers, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared decision. “No,” he replied softly. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Valaena’s lips curled into a small, affectionate smile. “I’d like to name him Aemon, in honour of his father,” she said, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond chuckled softly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you sure you want to do that?” he asked, teasing, though his heart swelled with affection.

Valaena nodded with certainty, her eyes warm with emotion. “I’m sure.”

Aemond stroked the baby’s soft silver hair, a tear threatening to fall as he marvelled at the life they had created together.

“Aemon,” he whispered, the name tasting like hope and promise. “He may look like me but he’ll grow up to be strong. Just like you.”

“Now’s not the time for Strong jokes my love” said Valaena,

“Time and a place. I know” replied Aemond smiling slightly.

Valaena shifted slightly, her eyes filled with concern as she looked up at Aemond. “You look so tired,” she said, her voice gentle.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Aemond admitted, his gaze dropping to their son. “Not since you’ve been in the coma.”

Valaena’s brow furrowed, and she gave a soft gasp. “How long was it?” she asked.

“Just over a month,” Aemond said, his voice tight as the pain of that time resurfaced.

Valaena’s eyes widened. “A-A month. What about our other children?”

Aemond placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “They’ve been well taken care of,” he said gently. “They visit often. The flowers over there are from Rhaegar and Elaena.”

Valaena nodded slowly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She looked at the flowers with longing. “I want to see them,” she said, her voice breaking.

Aemond smiled softly. “Tomorrow, I’ll bring them to you,” he promised.

Valaena shifted again, the weight of the baby becoming too much for her.

Aemond gently scooped Aemon up, cradling him in his arms and rocking him softly as he looked at Valaena with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Aemond asked, his voice laced with worry.

Valaena’s gaze was sad as she watched Aemond care for their son. “I can’t even hold my son properly,” she murmured, the pain of her weakness clear in her eyes.

“You’ve just woken up from a month-long coma,” Aemond reminded her softly. “It’s going to take time to build your strength back.”

Valaena nodded, a sad smile flickering on her lips. “When will you tell my mother I’m awake?”

Aemond sighed, a small chuckle escaping him. “Not yet,” he said. “I want to keep you to myself for a little longer.”

The soft cry of their son brought Aemond’s attention back to the baby. He carefully opened the door noticing Lirri waiting outside in the hallway.

“Lirri,” Aemond said quietly, “He’s hungry. The wetnurse will need to be summoned.” As he placed his son gently into her arms

“Is my lady well?” asked Lirri.

“She’s awake”

Lirri smiled widely. “Does the prince have a name?” she asked softly.

“Aemon,” Aemond replied, a proud smile on his face.

Lirri smiled warmly “A good name-it suits him well”

“Don’t tell anyone that Valaena is awake,” he said softly. “I need a bit more time with her.”

Lirri gave a small nod. “I understand, my prince,” she said before slipping back into her chambers.

Aemond returned to the bed and sat beside Valaena, his heart light for the first time in so long.

He laid down next to her, his hand gently brushing her face. She was so tired, but there was a quiet contentment in her eyes as she watched him.

“I’ve been asleep for a month,” Valaena murmured, her voice faint, “yet I feel so tired.”

Aemond smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s okay, my love. Sleep. Rest.”

Valaena’s eyes fluttered closed, and she whispered softly, “I love you.”

Aemond kissed her forehead gently. “I love you too,” he whispered back, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close.

Just as the gentle rhythm of her breathing steadied.

"I dreamt we were flying," Valaena murmured, her words barely a whisper.

Aemond froze, his chest tightening at the sound. He looked down at her, her eyes closed, her face soft and peaceful as she rested.

The vulnerability of the moment struck him, but there was something else in her words, something that tugged at his heart.

"Flying?" Aemond whispered.

Valaena stirred slightly, the corners of her lips lifting as though recalling the fleeting images of her dream.

“Yes, with you,” she murmured, her voice still heavy with the weight of sleep. "You on Vhagar, me on Silverwing-The sky so blue and endless. There was a light, you wouldn’t let me go-and the crickets they sing together again"

Aemond’s heart caught in his throat. The images she spoke of mirrored his own dream so closely, it almost felt as if they had shared the same vision.

For a moment, he dared to believe that her mind was reaching out to him, somehow connecting in a space beyond reality.

Her hand twitched slightly in her sleep, and he gently took it in his, his grip tight, as if holding on to a memory, a hope that perhaps, just perhaps, she could hear him, could feel him there.

And as the weight of their shared grief, their joy, and their love settled over them, Aemond finally allowed himself to close his eyes, drifting off to sleep with Valaena nestled safely in his arms.

TBC

[ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal]

Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not enough, I am certain that you’re truly fine

PART FIVE

Ot8 x reader

Word Count: 812

Just a warning, this is my first fanfic! Does have age regression themes so if you’re not a fan, I ask that you respectfully just don’t read <3 also this will definitely have some angst

!THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!

Days passed and everytime you hung out with them, they seemed more affectionate than usual.

“Is something going on?” You asked suddenly after Seungmin wrapped a fluffy blanket around you the second you sat down on the couch.

The guys look at eachother as if silently communicating then Seungmin chuckles a bit and playfully scoffs. “There is nothing going on,” he says, not being able to make up an excuse otherwise.

You look at Seungmin curiously, not believing him for a second. “All of you have me basically catering to my every need for days now.”

“Oh please, you’re just delusional,” Seungmin tries to play it off, crossing his arms over his chest.

Looking at the guys again, you notice Felix avoiding eye contact. You look at him for a few more seconds before trying to get information from him, knowing he would most likely be the person to tell you the truth. “Lixie? Is there something that y’all aren’t telling me?”

Before Felix can open his mouth, Changbin speaks. “Oh I can’t take it anymore. This is eating me alive!” He says dramatically, before turning to you “We know about your age regression.”

Your face drops in shock with his sudden outburst, hearing Han, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Chris give Changbin a collective “really dude”.

“How…” seems to be the only thing you could say, your eyes looking between each of the guys.

Chris clears his throat before explaining quietly as if he is scared for the outcome of his sentence, “the other night… the night you wanted to leave suddenly… you showed signs of being a little…” He trails off, looking at you genuinely.

“Before you say anything or try to deny it, we think it’s cute.” Hyunjin says quickly, his eyes wide to try and get his point across.

Felix looks at Hyunjin and chuckles, “Hyung, if you keep looking at her like that, you’ll probably freak her out.” He says, trying to lighten the situation, causing a few of the guys to chuckle.

“I-I just… how do you guys know what that is? Or how to look for signs of it?” You ask, curious how they all caught on.

“The old guy knows about it… but don’t ask him how because it’s the most depressing story you’ll ever hear!” Seungmin explains, causing Chris to playfully shove him, saying a quick “it’s not depressing… and im not old!”

You look at Chris, as if observing him. A part of you always seen Chris as some type of caregiver, but now you don’t know if he knows about it in that sense or if he is possibly a little himself. “I want to know the story…” You blurt out, wanting to know the explanation which causes seungmin to playfully groan.

So Chris explains, and your eyes soften as he does. “You were a caregiver to littles online who didn’t have one because you always wanted to be a caregiver?” You ask softly, causing Seungmin to say “See! Depressing!”

“After Hyung told us about how he suspected you as a little, we wanted to learn how to be a caregiver,” Minho speaks up, his eyes looking at you softly. “We wanted you to feel comfortable around us enough so if you ever wanted or needed to regress… you can.”

This explanation makes you tear up. Knowing the guys went out their way to want to learn how to properly be a caregiver… no one has ever done that before. “You wanted to do that… for me?” You ask, your voice just above a whisper.

“We would move mountains for you, Sunbeam, if it meant seeing you carefree and happy.” Felix reassured you, smiling gently.

The petname made you blush, your cheeks now covered a pinkish red. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you guys.”

“Okay, back up!” Han says, standing up from the couch. “Why hasn’t anyone informed me of this information?!?! Where was I when all of you had this important discussion of our princess?” He expresses playfully, though he is very serious.

The guys looks at one another, forgetting to tell Han any of this. “In our defense, you were sleeping next to her when we talked about it!” Jeongin informs, raising his hands up defensively.

“Wait, Hannie, you didn’t know? Then why were you so affectiante with me as well?” You ask curiously.

Han’s mouth pratcially drops in shock, “I am always affectionate with you!” He says in a desperate voice. “You’re my whole world, I always treat you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world!”

“Okay, yeah you make a good point.” I say, chuckling a bit.

Changbin stands up and goes to crouch infront of you, looking up at you. “Since the cat is now out the bag… maybe now you can help us know how to properly take care of you.”

TAGLIST: @puppyminnnie