#saying very tender words but with a very angry tone and expression

[musubiki]

10 minute doodle for that last post. lime (aggressively) telling mochi shes pretty

[lizzyiii]

The Dragon’s Treasure has my WHOLE heart 🥹

thank you, babe. i've really enjoyed writing her and aemond

The Dragon's Treasure (3)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 11k words

summary | “...and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.”

tags | as we all know ANGST, ANGST, ANGSTTTT, and eventually rainbow after the storm, SA! (aemonds brothel scene), things do get better y'all, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, reader being a sensitive queen, and FLUFF and young love, aemond being a SIMP, TOOTHROTTING FLUFF

a/n | I cried so much, while writing this. I loved writing young aemond, I loved writing young helaena but especially loved writing young reader. I promise you guys this, when I have the time I'll write a one shot of them when they're older and more post-episode 7. When they're older (16&18). Also I really went overboard ngl

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 2 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You weren’t eating again.

Aemond had overheard his mother’s worried whispers as she discussed your condition with the maesters. He was still angry with you—hurt by the thought that you would try to leave them all behind, leave him behind, without a second thought. But no matter how deep his anger ran, his concern for you ran deeper.

After a long and contemplative ride on Vhagar, the weight of the sky above him and the sea below doing little to settle his thoughts, Aemond sought out his mother.

“Aemond,” Alicent began, her voice weary as she looked down at him, her exhaustion evident in the fine lines around her eyes. Between preparing for Aegon and Helaena's wedding and your worsening state, the strain was taking its toll. “I don’t think she’s in the mood for any visitors.”

She still didn’t know the full truth of what had happened—the attempt to run away with Helaena, the plan you had kept hidden from them all. All Alicent knew was that you had retreated into yourself once more, refusing to speak to anyone, even to Helaena, the one who had once pulled you from your darkness.

“It’s her nameday tomorrow,” Aemond murmured, his voice quiet but steady.

Alicent’s face tightened, pain flashing in her eyes as she thought of how you had been before all this—brighter, more spirited. Aemond continued, his tone soft but resolute. “She likes strawberry cakes. Let me bring her one, Mother. Please.”

Alicent’s gaze softened as she looked at her son. Her sharp, determined boy, scarred both in body and soul, yet still showing more kindness than anyone would expect after all he had endured. He had lost an eye, but his heart—his heart still carried a tenderness that surprised her.

She sighed, her shoulders drooping with the weight of her worries. “Very well,” she said softly. “You have my leave to visit her tomorrow.”

Aemond didn’t smile, didn’t show any hint of relief, though inside, the resolve in his chest tightened. He simply nodded in acknowledgment. His mind had already begun to turn over what he would say to you when he saw you—how he might reach you through the walls you had built around yourself.

Tomorrow was your nameday, and whether you liked it or not, Aemond would be there for you.

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Aemond’s heart raced as he approached your chambers, his hands gripping the tray carrying strawberry cakes. He had spent much of the morning thinking of what else he could bring—perhaps a necklace, something to match the sapphire that lay hidden beneath his eyepatch. You loved jewelry, and he knew how your eyes lit up at the sight of anything that sparkled. But in the end, he settled on simplicity—just the cakes you loved, hoping they would be enough.

As he neared your door, he was greeted by Ser Rowan, your loyal guard, who stood as firm as ever, his expression stern.

“My prince,” Ser Rowan acknowledged with a nod, his voice gruff. “The princess is in no condition to receive visitors today.”

Aemond stiffened, his chest rising as he squared his shoulders. He would not be turned away so easily. “It is her nameday,” he said firmly, his voice laced with authority. He took a step closer, meeting Ser Rowan’s unyielding gaze with his own, violet eye sharp. “The queen has granted me permission to visit her.”

Ser Rowan remained still, but Aemond didn’t back down. He tilted his head slightly, his tone low and challenging. “Will you disobey the Queen’s word?”

There was a moment of silence as the guard’s eyes flicked down to the tray Aemond carried. His stern expression softened just slightly when he saw the strawberry cakes. Ser Rowan let out a heavy sigh, his duty to you outweighing his hesitation. He too wished for your recovery, and perhaps, he thought, a visit from Aemond might bring some light back into your eyes.

“Very well, my prince,” he said at last, stepping aside. He opened the door with a creak, allowing Aemond to enter.

Aemond took a deep breath, holding the tray steady as he stepped into your chambers. The door closed softly behind him, but the room was dim, heavy with silence. His heart clenched at the sight of you curled up on the bed, facing the wall, your small form barely stirring.

"Niece," Aemond’s voice echoed softly through the room, breaking the heavy silence of your chambers.

There was a pause, and then your voice, quiet and tired, reached him. "Go away."

He pursed his lips, setting the tray down gently on the bedside table. The room was dim, shrouded in a pink hue from your curtains, and he made his way over to the window, pulling the drapes wide open. Sunlight poured in, casting the room in a golden glow.

From behind him, you hissed, "Close them." He heard the rustle of your blankets as you pulled them over your head, shielding yourself from the brightness.

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he turned back to face you. "Happy Nameday," he said, his tone lighter than before. "I brought you something."

"I don’t want it," you muttered from beneath the covers, your voice muffled and distant.

He sat beside you, his movements careful, placing the tray of strawberry cakes within arm’s reach. "I’m sure you will," he replied softly, hoping to coax you out from your cocoon of blankets.

For a few moments, there was nothing—just the faint sounds of the breeze outside and the distant chatter from the courtyard. Aemond sighed, the weight of the silence between you heavier than he could bear. He reached out, his hand hovering just above your arm, but then hesitated. His fingers twitched before he pulled his hand back, unsure of how to communicate with you.

"You know," he began quietly, his voice careful, "I wouldn’t force that on you. To bear children you don’t want. One would be enough."

There was a sharp scoff from beneath the blankets. "How generous of you," you replied, the bitterness in your tone unmistakable.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze steady on the blankets that covered you. His mind drifted to the records he had been reading, the histories you both loved to discuss. He knew how much you valued stories of the past, of old kings and queens, of the lives they led. Swallowing, he decided to share what had been on his mind, hoping it might reach you.

"I’ve been reading more since our last talk," he murmured. "About King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. Even after many children, he made her bear more when she didn’t wish to." His voice was soft but steady, the weight of his words hanging in the air between you. He had been thinking of you, trying to understand your fears.

The sunlight streamed across your bed, casting shadows as Aemond spoke. He knew that love was rare among their kind, especially in Targaryen unions, but he hoped. Hoped that maybe, in time, you would not just be duty and title to him.

"I would never do that to you," he added, his tone sincere, almost vulnerable. "I want our marriage to be different."

The room was still. The only sound was the faint rustling of the breeze outside, and the quiet breathing of Dreamfyre from somewhere far beyond your window. Aemond’s words lingered, waiting for you to respond, to show him something—anything—that might bridge the gap between you.

Slowly, you lowered the blankets just enough for your eyes to peek out, meeting Aemond's gaze. "He was a bad man," you mumbled, referring to King Jaehaerys.

Aemond, ever the scholar, couldn’t resist. "He was a good king," he pointed out, his tone firm but calm.

You rolled your eyes, a small defiance shining through your sadness. "Still a bad man." For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, and then you added thoughtfully, "Aenys Targaryen was a good man."

Aemond let out a scoff. "He was weak."

You narrowed your eyes at him, but there was a flicker of something behind your lilac gaze, something like amusement. "A weak king, yes. Only because he tried to make everyone happy."

Your eyes shifted towards the tray on the bedside table, where the strawberry cakes sat. After a moment of hesitation, your voice, still tinged with sadness, broke the silence. "Is today really my nameday?"

Aemond nodded, his own expression softening. "Yes."

"Oh." Your response was quiet, almost absent-minded, as if you were still processing.

Aemond reached for the tray and held it out to you, offering a tentative smile. "Would you like one?"

You eyed the cakes, and though your sadness still lingered, something softened in your expression. "Those do look nice," you murmured. Finally, you pulled the blanket away from your face and sat up slowly, your movements careful and deliberate. Though your face remained neutral, devoid of the joy that used to light it up, you gave a small nod. "Alright."

Aemond couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as he handed you a cake. It wasn’t much, but seeing you like this—out of bed, talking to him—felt like a small victory.

As you took a bite, your eyes flickered to his once more, and Aemond stayed beside you, content with the simple moment of shared silence, hopeful that things might get better.

Aemond felt as though he were trapped in a cage of unbearable heat, the air around him thick, suffocating. The wine—a dark, bitter liquid that Aegon had forced upon him—now churned wildly in his stomach, its taste sour and unpleasant. He longed to rid himself of it, to escape the strange and unfamiliar sensations overtaking him.

It was after the grand feast in honor of his thirteenth nameday that Aegon, with a sly grin and a glint in his eye, had promised him a "surprise." Aemond, still naive to the darker aspects of his brother’s humor, had followed without protest, his curiosity outweighing his caution. They had ventured deep into King’s Landing, to a shadowed place Aemond had never seen before—a pleasure house filled with laughter and the soft rustling of silks.

Before Aemond could voice his hesitation, Aegon had disappeared into the throng of bodies, swallowed by the merry voices and whispers of the women within. And Aemond was left alone, standing awkwardly, unsure of what was to happen next.

He was led into a small chamber, dimly lit by flickering candles, their soft glow casting strange and unsettling shadows on the walls. The tapestries that adorned the room depicted scenes he barely understood—men and women entwined in ways that seemed more confusing than enticing. He felt a knot tightening in his chest, and a cold wave of dread settled over him.

Then she entered—a woman far older than his mother, her presence overwhelming in the confined space. She smiled at him, her voice soft and syrupy, laced with sweet lies that made his skin crawl. She cooed over him, her hands reaching for him before he had the chance to say anything, her touch gentle yet intrusive as she began to undress him.

Aemond’s heart pounded in his chest, and every fiber of his being screamed for her to stop, to leave him be. But his voice—his strength—had abandoned him. He remained frozen, his limbs stiff and unresponsive as she whispered things into his ear, words he wished he hadn’t heard, promises he didn’t understand.

When it was over, Aemond was left numb. He sat there, silent, as if his body no longer belonged to him, as though he had become something entirely separate from himself. Trembling, he fumbled with his clothes, his fingers shaking as he struggled to dress. His mind was a whirl of confusion, shame, and anger, but above all, he felt the desperate need to flee.

He didn’t care where Aegon had gone, didn’t want to face him or anyone else. The only thought that filled his mind was reaching you, his niece, his betrothed, his future wife, the one person who might make him feel whole again.

His feet carried him through the secret passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast, each step heavy with fear and sorrow. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, his chest aching as he pushed himself to move faster. His tears—hot and unbidden—ran down his cheeks, blurring his vision, but he did not stop.

He passed his own chambers, the rooms of his mother, and everyone else, not wanting to explain the mess of emotions swirling inside him. He only wanted you.

It felt as though the gods had granted Aemond a moment of mercy when he reached your chambers, finding Ser Rowan absent from his post. Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his heart still racing, tears brimming in his eye as he struggled to hold them back.

You were fast asleep, your back turned toward him. Aemond let out a quiet breath of relief. He hadn’t come to disturb you, only to be near you—just your presence, your warmth, was enough to calm the storm inside him.

Quietly, he made his way to your bed and carefully, as if afraid to wake you, slid in beside you. He kept a respectful distance, not wanting to intrude, but just close enough to feel your presence. The motion stirred you from your sleep, and you sat up, blinking in confusion.

Your eyes widened when they fell on Aemond, and for a brief, horrible moment, he realised it was because of his face. He had forgotten—he had left his eye patch behind at the brothel. The clear ragged sapphire was bare for you to see.

Panic surged through him. You would be disgusted, he thought, repelled by the sight of his disfigurement. He moved to leave, heart pounding, but your voice reached him before he could retreat.

“Aemond, breathe,” you whispered, your strained voice soft and steady.

He froze, his chest tight with the effort to suppress his panic. He needed to leave—he couldn’t bear for you to see him like this. Not you, his dearest niece, who always knew him as strong, as whole. He couldn’t let you witness the broken, ruined side of him.

But then, you reached out, grabbing his trembling hands in your own small ones, your touch warm and gentle. "Please, stay," you whispered, your voice filled with concern. Slowly, you began rubbing his cold hands, trying to bring warmth back to him, both in body and spirit.

His breathing was still uneven, but your soft words and the warmth of your touch soothed him. He looked up, meeting your eyes for the first time. There was no disgust there, no fear—only worry and care. Just like before. Slowly, the tension began to leave his body, and for the first time since he had fled that terrible place, Aemond felt a glimmer of relief.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

You shook your head, squeezing his hands a little tighter. "I don’t care about your face, Aemond," you murmured softly, your tired lilac eyes meeting his. "I care about you."

As you gently laid back onto your pillow, you looked at Aemond with concern, urging him to lie beside you. He hesitated for a moment, but slowly, he did as you asked, his awkward frame seeming out of place in your small bed. You turned to face him, your wide lilac eyes full of care, while Aemond’s own single violet eye struggled to meet yours.

With quiet care, you reached out, placing your small hand on his scarred cheek. He flinched at first, his breath catching in his throat, but you didn’t pull away. Your fingers traced the jagged line of the scar that ran down his face, the skin rough beneath your touch. It was as if you weren’t looking at the scar at all, just him—Aemond, your beloved uncle, the boy who protected you, who read to you, who you always knew to be brave.

He shivered under your touch, his emotions twisting inside him. But you said nothing more, just a quiet, simple comfort.

“Sleep, Aemond,” you whispered softly, your voice gentle and soothing. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

The words wrapped around him like a balm, a promise in the soft glow of the dim candlelight. For so long, Aemond had carried his burdens alone, but in this moment, with your hand on his face and your soft breath mingling with the night air, he felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel since Driftmark—peace.

His eye fluttered shut, and with the rhythm of your breathing beside him, he let himself drift away, finally surrendering to sleep.

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Aemond entered your chambers quietly, the weight of the box in his hands almost insignificant compared to the heaviness that lingered in the air. He had been allowed to visit freely now, thanks to Ser Rowan's softening stance, but each visit felt like walking on a thread, delicate and uncertain.

He paused when he saw you on the chaise, struggling with your embroidery. The soft light from the window highlighted the paleness of your features—still recovering, still distant, but better than before. You were eating now, and though your mood hadn't brightened, that small improvement brought Aemond some comfort. He cherished these moments, even if they were shrouded in silence.

"I've brought something for you," he said, his voice steady yet quiet as he approached.

You glanced up from your work but said nothing. The tangled mess of threads on the pillow caught his eye, and he bent slightly to inspect it, attempting to mask the awkwardness he always felt in the wake of that night. He hadn’t been ready to speak of it, and thankfully, neither had you.

"That’s a nice lion," Aemond offered, pointing to the uneven form stitched into the fabric.

Your lips parted slightly, a faint glimmer of amusement mixing with frustration as you murmured, "It was supposed to be the Queen."

Aemond’s lips twitched in response, nodding solemnly as if in deep thought. "Now that you say it," he replied, his voice light, "I do recognize her hair."

With a small sigh, you tossed the pillow aside like it was something offensive, watching as it tumbled to the floor, forgotten. Your eyes flickered towards the box in Aemond’s hands, suspicion mingling with curiosity.

"What have you brought me?" you asked, your voice quiet, but holding a hint of anticipation.

Aemond didn’t reply at first, simply stepping forward and offering the box to you, his expression unreadable. You hesitated for a moment, then carefully took it from him.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you lifted the lid, pulling back the fine paper that covered the gift inside. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you uncovered a stunning gown—lilac silk adorned with delicate embroidery, tiny jewels catching the light like stars. Your hands traced the fabric, feeling the softness beneath your fingertips, the craftsmanship clear in every stitch.

Aemond watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your face. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was a shift in your expression—a glimmer of something that almost resembled joy.

"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low, holding his breath as he awaited your response.

You glanced up at him, and for the first time in many moons, you smiled. It was small, barely there, but it warmed Aemond's heart like the sun after a long winter.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, still admiring the gown. "What's it for?"

"Helaena's wedding."

At once, the warmth in the room seemed to drain away. The smile you had given Aemond, fleeting as it was, vanished, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. His heart sank, watching as you carefully folded the gown, tucking it back into the box with deliberate gentleness. The delicate fabric crinkled under your hands as though it were something too precious to be touched, something that no longer belonged to you.

"I'm afraid you've wasted your efforts," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your gaze fixed on the gown. "I'm not going."

Aemond's brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He stepped closer, his voice steady yet urgent. "You have to go."

But you refused to meet his eye. You knew how intense his gaze could be, how easily it could pierce through your defenses. Staring at the box instead, you shook your head, your words coming out firm, resolute. "I won't."

Aemond's lips pressed into a thin line, the familiar weight of your stubbornness settling between you both. "Helaena needs you," he urged, his tone softening, as if pleading might sway you.

You let out a bitter sigh, your fingers tracing the edge of the box, a dull ache settling in your chest. "Well, perhaps I can hurt her the same way she hurt me," you muttered, your words tinged with petulance, though the pain beneath them was clear.

Aemond stood in silence for a long moment, weighing your words, the tension in the air thick between you. His voice, quieter this time, broke the silence like a whisper carried on the wind. "Will you really not go?"

"No," you replied, though your voice softened now, the sharp edge of defiance fading. You hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. You raised your chin, trying to hold onto the last bit of resolve. "Now, is that all you've come to visit me for?"

Aemond's heart ached at the sight of you—so distant, so caught in your own sorrow. He stood there, unsure of how to reach you, the distance between you feeling far more than just the space in the room.

The day of Helaena’s wedding arrived, and just as you had promised, you didn’t go. Aemond had come to your chambers in the morning, his expression pleading as he urged you one last time to change your mind. His words were careful, filled with the weight of his disappointment, but still, you remained firm.

You had refused.

As the sun set, casting a warm golden hue across the castle walls, you lay alone in your chambers, curled beneath the thick blankets on your bed. The echoes of the celebrations reached your ears in faint murmurs, muffled by the heavy stone of the keep. The joyous sounds of laughter and music only seemed to deepen the ache in your heart.

It was when night fell fully that the tears came, slow at first, then faster, spilling onto your pillow as regret took hold of you. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, but it did little to stop the sadness that had finally caught up to you. You could see it so clearly in your mind—Helaena standing alone in the grand Sept, a pale and fragile figure, her face drawn with sorrow. You imagined her forced to marry Aegon, the brother you both knew was unfit for her, and the weight of your absence pressed hard on your chest.

How could you not have been there for her?

The thought made you feel smaller, childish even. You had let your anger and hurt guide you, and in doing so, you had abandoned Helaena on one of the worst days of her life. She was likely miserable, her heart heavy with sadness, and you, spiteful and stubborn, had stayed away. You bit your lip, choking back a sob.

Your gaze drifted to the gown Aemond had gifted you, still lying folded neatly in the box by your bedside, untouched, its lilac fabric gleaming faintly in the moonlight. You reached for it now, pulling the soft material through your fingers as though it could offer you some comfort.

But it didn’t.

It only reminded you of the mistake you had made.

You missed your mother.

For all the hurt she caused, all the ways she had abandoned you, there was still a deep ache for her, like a wound that wouldn’t heal. You wanted to hate her, truly despise her for leaving you behind. But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t. The love for her still clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t lose.

As the days passed in the quiet isolation of your chambers, you began to understand things you hadn’t before. With each lonely hour, the weight of your thoughts pressed harder on your heart. Your mother had been selfish, more than you had ever allowed yourself to admit. She had promised you the world, and yet, in the end, she had given you nothing.

You were her firstborn, the eldest of her children, and yet the title that should have been yours had been passed to Jace. He was her heir to the Iron Throne, the future king, while you were left to the shadows. Even Driftmark, the seat of your grandsire, should have been yours by birthright, but it had been given to Luke instead.

The bitterness inside you grew with every thought. You hated them now—your brothers. You knew it was childish, petulant even, but the feelings were there, and they wouldn’t leave. They had taken everything from you. Titles that were rightfully yours, the pride of riding dragons, and worst of all, they still had your mother. They were together as one big happy family on Dragonstone, while you had been left here in King's Landing, a forgotten daughter in the midst of their enemies.

“It’s fine,” you whispered to yourself in the dark, trying to believe it. You had never liked Dragonstone anyway, with its cold winds and sharp rocks. But even as you said it, your heart tightened with the lie. You missed the place, the warmth of the hearth, the sight of the sea from your window, and the feeling of belonging—something you hadn’t felt in so long.

And in the quiet moments, when the anger settled and the room was still, you knew the truth. It wasn’t your brothers’ fault. They hadn’t asked for this, to be born as they were, with all the whispers and shadows cast over their lineage. No, it was your mother’s choices that had led to this. Her indiscretions. But even as that truth formed in your mind, you found that you couldn’t hate her.

It was easier to be angry with them—with Jace and Luke—because hating her, the one you loved most, was something you just couldn’t bear.

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"I hated you, you know."

Aemond's head jerked up, eyes widening at the unexpected words. He had been sitting quietly in your chambers, absorbed in a thick tome about the horrors of Essos. You stood across the room, brush in hand, painting the pink walls of your chamber as if it were any other day. But there was a tension in the air, a weight to your voice that made his heart quicken.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the canvas as you murmured, "When you claimed Vhagar, I hated you."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy. Aemond’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you. The stillness of the room was broken only by the soft strokes of your brush against the canvas.

"I feel as if I hate everyone," you continued, voice tight and strained. "I hate Luke and Jace for stealing my titles." Your brush moved faster, more aggressively. "I hate Daemon for stealing my mother. I even hate Baela and Rhaena, if only because they get to have her now, as if she’s theirs instead of mine."

A scoff escaped your lips, but the sound was bitter. Aemond noticed the way your hand trembled slightly, how your breath caught as tears glistened in your lilac eyes.

"I hated Helaena for not running away with me," you whispered, the words coming out choked. "And I hate myself for not having a dragon, for not being someone important, someone worthy of a title."

Tears began streaming down your face, and yet you kept painting, as if the act itself could somehow keep the flood of emotions at bay. Finally, your gaze lifted from the canvas and met Aemond’s. His heart clenched at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"And I hated you," you said, voice breaking, "for claiming Vhagar and leaving me alone in this world."

The sob that followed was wrenching, and Aemond couldn’t stay still any longer. He moved toward you, closing the distance between you both with careful, deliberate steps. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as you wept.

"I don’t want to feel this way," you cried into his tunic, voice muffled and raw. "So pathetic, so angry at everyone. But I can’t help it. And yet, no matter how hard I try, I can never hate her."

Aemond’s chest tightened at your words, his own emotions swirling in a storm he didn’t know how to express. He rested his chin gently on your head, holding you as tightly as he dared, feeling the weight of your pain as if it were his own.

"I know," he whispered softly, his voice rough with emotion. "I know."

And so he held you, offering no more words, just the quiet comfort of his presence as your tears slowly soaked into his shoulder. He wished he could consume your pain and take it away, wished he could make things right. But all he could do was stand there, arms around you, as the world outside seemed so far away.

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“How is Helaena?”

It was the first time in what felt like forever that you had left your chambers. Aemond had been persistent, urging you to take some air, to leave the four walls that had become your prison. Reluctantly, you agreed, and now the two of you sat beneath the heart tree in the Godswood, surrounded by the stillness of nature. Aemond had brought a stack of books, ones he knew you both enjoyed, hoping they might distract you.

“The same as ever,” Aemond answered absently, his attention flickering between the pages of the book in his lap and the rustling leaves above.

He paused, glancing up at you. "She’s set to give birth in three moons' time," he added, his voice soft, as if the thought still surprised him.

You looked down, your heart aching at how quickly time had passed. It had been almost two years since you had returned to King’s Landing, and though you tried to avoid thinking about it, you knew things would never be the same. “Is her pregnancy going well?” you asked quietly, your voice small against the whisper of the wind.

Aemond pursed his lips, his brow furrowing in thought. “She has strange cravings," he said, his voice low. "And her belly is… large, perhaps too large for just six moons.” He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. “I’m sure a visit from you would lift her spirits,” he suggested, his tone careful, as though he didn’t want to push too hard.

You shook your head almost immediately, your silver curls spilling over your shoulders. “I’m not sure it would,” you murmured, your voice full of doubt.

Aemond studied you for a long moment, his sharp violet eye watching the way your expression shifted, the way your gaze seemed to turn inward. "She speaks of you sometimes," he said quietly, trying to find the right words to reach you. "She misses you."

You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest as you looked away from him, your fingers tracing idle patterns in the grass. You missed her too.

Aemond, noticing the sadness clouding your face, cleared his throat, quickly steering the conversation elsewhere. “Perhaps when you feel better,” he began, his voice lighter, “you could join me on a ride with Vhagar.”

Your head snapped up in surprise. “Me? Ride Vhagar?” You shook your head. “I’m not sure Vhagar would like me. A loud, annoying girl.”

Aemond raised a brow, his face dead serious. “If that were true, Vhagar would’ve eaten Baela and Rhaena years ago.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you laughed. A real laugh, bubbling up from deep within, spilling out in a way that felt foreign yet so relieving. Two years of being shut away in your chambers, and now here you were, laughing at Aemond’s dry humor. The sound filled the Godswood, bright and full of life.

Aemond, momentarily stunned, blinked at you in astonishment. He hadn’t expected it, not after everything, but when his mind caught up, a broad smile tugged at his lips. The kind of smile that was rare for him, genuine and unguarded.

“Vhagar will love you,” he said, his voice quiet but sure. He hesitated for just a moment, his thoughts turning to words he longed to say but didn’t. Just as I do, he thought. But instead, he insisted with a warmth in his tone, “I’m sure of that.”

You gave a small shrug, murmuring, "Maybe," without truly committing to the idea.

Aemond studied your face for a moment, his heart lighter at the sound of your earlier laughter, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "I claimed Vhagar for the both of us."

Your expression shifted in an instant, the color draining from your face as you stared at him. "What?" you mumbled, barely above a whisper.

Aemond averted his gaze, trying to appear casual, though his heart raced. "I remembered what you said—about sharing a dragon. And when your dragon egg didn’t hatch, I decided... Vhagar should be for both of us." He looked up, meeting your startled lilac eyes with his steady violet one. "For you and me to share."

Tears welled in your eyes without warning, and Aemond’s calm composure crumbled. He immediately scrambled to your side, kneeling in the grass and reaching out to comfort you. "No, no, I didn’t mean to make you cry," he said, his hands hovering nervously, unsure of what to do.

You waved his hands away, though a small smile began to form through your tears. "I feel a bit foolish now," you admitted, as tears continued to fall down your cheeks.

Aemond took your hands gently in his, bringing them to his lips in a tender kiss. "And so?" He whispered, his gaze filled with sincerity.

As the tears dried on your cheeks, you let out a shaky breath, though your nose remained a bit red. "But... I think Vhagar is much more suited for you," you finally said, your voice still soft but calmer.

Aemond nodded, willing to agree if it brought you comfort. "Will you still consider joining me?" he asked, his tone hopeful.

You looked at him, your smile returning, this time more playful. "I shall," you said with a teasing glint in your eyes, your hands still resting in his.

──────────────────────────────

"Princess, are you almost done?"

Ser Rowan’s voice was tinged with exasperation as he stood with arms raised, holding the pose you had instructed. You had begged him to model for your painting when he arrived to greet you at dawn, and now the sun was climbing high in the sky, casting warm rays through the window. Despite the time, he remained your patient subject.

"Almost, Ser Rowan," you replied cheerfully, your brush gliding across the canvas as you focused on capturing the details of his expression.

The knight let out a weary sigh, feeling his muscles beginning to stiffen. Yet he would endure anything to keep the smile on your face; he was your willing captive, devoted to your whims.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Ser Rowan instinctively straightened, positioning himself protectively in front of you. He relaxed his stance when he saw Prince Aemond enter, though a worried look darkened the prince's features.

"Aemond, what’s wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing in concern as you set down your brush.

The prince was out of breath, urgency threading through his voice. "Helaena went into labor last night. It’s been long and difficult. She’s calling for you."

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth in shock, struggling to find your voice amidst the sudden rush of fear and worry.

Before you could respond, Ser Rowan spoke softly but firmly. "Princess, we must go."

You nodded, the news settling in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold. You hurriedly followed Aemond and Ser Rowan out of your chamber, your heart pounding with a mix of concern and guilt.

Thoughts raced through your mind—what would you say to Helaena? Would she forgive you for not being there these past months? You hadn’t seen her in nearly ten moons, too consumed by your own sadness to leave your room.

As the three of you made your way to the birthing chambers, the air felt thick with anticipation. Upon reaching the door, you encountered another guard who bowed respectfully at your approach.

"The princess has successfully given birth, your Highnesses," he announced, his voice steady.

You and Aemond exchanged a glance, relief washing over you, and he offered you an encouraging nod. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself to enter and see Helaena, the weight of your past decisions lingering in the back of your mind, but hope beginning to spark within your heart.

As you stepped into the chamber, your eyes immediately found Queen Alicent standing in the center, cradling a tiny bundle in her arms. A soft glow of love radiated from her as she looked down at Helaena's babe, a precious life nestled against her.

Your gaze shifted, and you gasped softly when you finally spotted Helaena on the birthing bed. To your astonishment, she was holding another baby as well.

"Twins," you murmured, the words slipping out louder than intended, catching the attention of both the Queen and Helaena.

Alicent's eyes widened in surprise, and a warm smile spread across her face at the sight of you. "Princess, it brings me joy to see you out of your chambers," she said, her voice gentle.

You nodded, feeling a rush of embarrassment as you shifted your gaze back to Helaena. She was already looking at you, her expression filled with a mix of fatigue and joy. Slowly, you approached the bed, holding your breath as you took in the sight before you.

The babe in Helaena's arms had the unmistakable silver hair of House Targaryen, a stark contrast to the dark-haired children of your brothers. You couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, but the sight of the tiny face, so fragile and perfect, made your heart swell.

"What are their names?" you asked softly, careful not to disturb the babe's slumber. Your voice barely rose above a whisper, filled with wonder.

A tiny smile bloomed on Helaena's weary face, her eyes lighting up with pride. She gestured to the babe nestled in her arms. "This is Jaehaera," she said, her voice tender. Then she nodded toward the child cradled by Queen Alicent. "And that is Jaehaerys."

You nodded slowly, feeling a swell of warmth at the names, though a shadow lingered in your mind. You didn’t dare ask where Aegon was; the thought of him missing the birth of his children felt too heavy to voice. Carefully, you settled beside Helaena on the birthing bed, the air filled with soft silence and the smell of newborns.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, unable to meet her gaze as your eyes traced the delicate features of Jaehaera. The babe's tiny fingers curled and unfurled, and your heart ached with a mix of joy and regret.

Helaena's hand found yours, giving a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry too," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

Looking up at her, a relieved smile broke through your sadness, tears glistening in your eyes. In that moment, the past felt a little lighter, the bond between you strengthening. But then Helaena's expression turned hopeful. "Would you like to hold her?"

You immediately shook your head, anxiety creeping in. "I don't know how."

"I didn’t know how either before this," Helaena said, her voice soft and encouraging. She carefully passed Jaehaera into your arms. You cradled the babe as if she were made of glass, your heart racing with both fear and delight. "It’s very easy."

A small laugh escaped you, bubbling with nervousness. "She’s very small."

"Yes," Helaena murmured, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. "Just as we were once."

You gazed down at the sleeping babe, feeling the weight of her tiny form in your arms. You glanced up at Helaena, her eyes shining with love and hope, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you felt a glimmer of happiness for the future.

You let out a huge yawn as you finally walked back to your chambers, the weight of the day settling on your shoulders. You had spent most of your time in Helaena's chambers, cradling Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in your arms. Queen Alicent had eagerly encouraged your visits, saying it was good practice for when you would have your own children with Aemond.

The thought felt strange yet comforting. After so many hours spent with the tiny babes, you found yourself warming to the idea of one day having a child with Aemond. Of course, that was a distant thought; you were only twelve now, and marriage was still years away. Yet, the notion no longer filled you with dread.

As your health improved and your mood lightened, Queen Alicent insisted you return to your princess lessons with Septa Agertha. The strict septa had been happy to resume your lessons, and to your surprise, she seemed kinder and softer than before, guiding you patiently through your studies.

Despite your busy days, you always tried to carve out time for Aemond. You cherished those moments, whether you were reading together in the library, basking in the sunlight of the gardens, or watching him train with his sword. Today, you couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly he took down Aegon during practice, his movements fluid and precise.

As you entered your chambers, your eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of Aemond standing amidst the soft pinks of your room, a striking contrast in his dark green leather. He looked entirely out of place, and the nervous smile tugging at his lips only deepened your suspicion.

"It is highly improper for you to visit my chambers so late, Aemond," you teased, crossing your arms as you arched an eyebrow. "Does Ser Rowan know about this?"

Aemond’s smile grew as he replied with a hint of mystery, "Ser Rowan does not know all the entrances to your room."

You rolled your eyes, amused but unconvinced. However, something behind Aemond caught your attention—a small object sitting on your table. You moved closer, but Aemond swiftly stepped in front of you, his hands gently resting on your waist to stop you.

"Wait," he said quickly, clearing his throat. "Before you get angry… don’t. Just trust me."

You eyed him suspiciously but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"Happy Nameday," Aemond said quietly, almost as if he were embarrassed by the gesture.

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. "Aemond, my nameday was a week ago."

"Still," he muttered, avoiding your gaze for a moment.

With curiosity getting the better of you, you gently pushed past him, approaching the table where the mysterious item sat. There, on the table, was a small brazier pot, the kind used for hatching dragon eggs. Your heart quickened as you slowly lifted the lid.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you saw the sparkly navy blue egg resting inside, hot as ever. "Aemond," you whispered, feeling a mix of exasperation and affection.

Aemond stepped up behind you, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, "I know. But you know what they say—fourth time’s the charm."

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you turned to face him. Your noses were practically touching as you corrected him, "It’s third time’s the charm, you stubborn idiot."

"I also brought strawberry cakes," Aemond said, seeing that the sight of the dragon egg had done little to lift your spirits.

You tilted your head with a small smile, "You know the way to my heart, Aemond Targaryen."

The two of you found yourselves lounging on your grand pink canopy bed, nestled among the cushions, feasting on strawberry cakes that Aemond had brought for you. The scent of the sweet berries filled the air, and for a moment, all seemed simple and light in your world.

“Aemond, I’ve been thinking,” you began thoughtfully, wiping a bit of cream from your lips.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk. “My, my, that is worrisome,” he teased, his voice playful.

You shot him a sharp glare before rolling your eyes. With a lift of your chin, you said firmly, “I’ve decided our first child must be a girl.”

Aemond blinked at you, stunned by the declaration. “You understand we do not get to choose, yes?”

You waved his words away dismissively, as if the very idea of leaving such an important matter to chance was absurd. “I believe if I am firm in my belief, then I shall have the choice,” you replied with the confidence only a twelve-year-old could muster.

Aemond gave you a long, bemused look, as if weighing your words for any sense. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “Why?” he asked, indulging your fanciful notion.

“Do not mistake me,” you began, leaning back into the pillows with a thoughtful expression. “I love both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys equally. And if we were to have a son, I would love him just as much.”

A big, silly grin spread across your face as you continued, “But I want a daughter. I want to dress her up, match with her, and have her follow me around in little gowns.”

Aemond gave you a knowing look. “You have Jaehaera for that.”

You pouted dramatically, the cake in your hand momentarily forgotten. “It’s not the same. Jaehaera is Helaena’s, not mine.”

Aemond chuckled softly at your logic. “Alright, alright,” he conceded, raising his hands as if surrendering. “I shall pray to the Seven for us to be blessed with a daughter first.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “Perhaps a daughter and a son at the same time?”

You glared at him, flicking a cake crumb in his direction. “Why would you wish something like that upon me? Twins?” You shook your head vehemently.

Aemond’s amused smile only widened as he met your deathly serious gaze. “You’re right, my bad,” he said with a chuckle, brushing the crumb off his tunic.

You huffed, but your irritation quickly melted away as you stuffed another bite of cake into your mouth, a small smile tugging at your lips. Despite his teasing, you knew that Aemond would pray to the Seven for whatever you wished—even if that meant asking for something as impossible as choosing your firstborn's gender.

You glanced down at the strawberry cake in your hand, scrunching your nose. "With all this cake you keep bringing me, Aemond, I’m going to grow fat."

Aemond gave you a thoughtful look, his expression serious yet teasing at the same time. "And? Do they not say that more is always better?"

You tried to hold back your amusement, but despite your best effort, a smile tugged at your lips. You sighed, shaking your head as you chuckled softly. "You’re incorrigible."

Aemond tilted his head, the corner of his mouth lifting ever so slightly. "Perhaps. But I speak the truth." His eye glimmered as they held yours for a moment longer. "A bit of extra weight would not lessen your beauty."

You blushed, looking away from him as you fiddled with the edge of your dress. "You say that now," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed, but your heart felt light.

"I shall always say that," Aemond countered smoothly, his voice unwavering, as if he truly meant every word. "No matter what the years bring, you will always be perfect to me."

A warmth spread through you, making your cheeks burn even more. You tried to dismiss it, waving a hand at him. "You just want me to keep eating cake so I’ll be too heavy to run away when you’re being impossible."

Aemond smiled at that, his violet eye gleaming with mirth. "Perhaps. Or maybe I just enjoy seeing you happy. And if it takes cake to do that, so be it."

You laughed then, shaking your head at him. "You’ve won this time, but I’ll have my revenge when I’m too fat to walk."

Aemond smirked, leaning closer to you with a satisfied look. "I’ll carry you, then."

You tilted your head, rolling your eyes at Aemond, wondering why he was looking at you like that, as if the world had shifted between the two of you. Somehow, without realizing it, you had drifted closer, your faces mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, soft and warm, as he leaned in further. His eye fluttered shut, and your heart skipped a beat as you sensed what was coming.

Before anything could happen, your hand instinctively shot up, covering his mouth. Aemond froze, opening his eye wide to see you staring at him with confusion. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice full of suspicion.

He mumbled something beneath your hand, and you lowered it, giving him a curious look as you tried to catch his words.

Clearing his throat, clearly embarrassed, he murmured, "I was trying to kiss you."

You squinted at him, still doubtful. "Aemond," you began cautiously, "Septa Agertha says if a maiden and a man kiss, she’ll become with child. And I think we should at least wait until the twins’ first nameday before we bring another baby into the castle."

Aemond’s lips pressed together tightly, trying to suppress a laugh. His ears turned red as he responded, "Maidens do not become pregnant because of kisses."

"Then how do they become with child?" you asked, raising a challenging brow, your tone daring him to contradict what you’d been taught.

Aemond’s face flushed deeply, and his gaze flickered away in sheer embarrassment. He seemed to search for a way to avoid the topic. "Your Septa will tell you... in time," he muttered, clearly hoping to escape further questioning.

You were about to protest, about to accuse your Septa of lying again—how could you trust her after she said that about kissing? But the sight of Aemond’s bright red cheeks and the way he squirmed told you it was better to drop it. So, with a sigh, you decided to change the subject. "So then," you asked, "why do people kiss if it’s not to make babies?"

Aemond shifted awkwardly before murmuring, "To show affection. It’s what people do when they love each other. Married couples especially."

You raised a skeptical eyebrow, folding your arms. "I’ve never seen my mother and father kiss. And I’ve never seen Grandsire and the Queen kiss either."

Aemond made an exasperated sound, running a hand through his hair. "Well... they’re different," he said, sounding both frustrated and amused.

You tilted your head again, considering his words. "Different how?"

"Just different," Aemond replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked at you. "Not everyone is... affectionate like that."

"So, you want to kiss me because you’re affectionate?" you teased, a small smirk growing on your face.

Aemond’s ears burned again, and he glanced away, muttering under his breath. "Something like that..."

You tilted your head, watching him with amusement before shrugging nonchalantly. "Alright," you said, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "You may kiss me."

Aemond's head snapped back toward you, his eye wide in disbelief. "Really?" he asked, unsure if you were being serious.

You nodded, offering him a small smile before puckering your lips in a way you thought was appropriate for a kiss. "Go on, then," you said, your lips pursed in a dramatic display.

Aemond stared at you for a moment, utterly bewildered. "You can't stare at me like that," he finally managed, his voice a little strangled as he glanced away again, clearly nervous.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, "Alright, Aemond," and then did as he requested, squeezing your eyes shut. You sat there, waiting for him to make the first move, your heart thumping in your chest even though you tried to act as though it didn’t matter at all.

The room felt strangely quiet, save for the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth. You could hear Aemond shift slightly, feel the warmth of him as he leaned in closer. The air between you felt charged, as if something important was about to happen.

His breath ghosted across your lips, soft and hesitant, and your heart skipped a beat. But just as you thought the kiss was going to happen, Aemond hesitated again.

"Are you certain?" he whispered, his voice soft and uncertain, as if he didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.

Without opening your eyes, you replied with a huff, "Yes, Aemond. Just do it."

Aemond finally leaned in, pressing his lips gently to yours in the briefest of kisses. It was awkward and tentative, like neither of you really knew what you were doing, but it was soft and sweet in its own way.

When he pulled back, you opened your eyes, blinking at him. The two of you sat there for a moment, staring at each other in silence, unsure of what to say or do next.

"Well?" Aemond asked, his voice low, his cheeks still a little flushed. "How was that?"

You pursed your lips, considering. "It wasn’t so bad," you admitted, then smiled, a hint of mischief in your eyes. "But I don't think that’ll make me with child, so Septa Agertha must be wrong after all."

Aemond let out a small, relieved chuckle, the tension easing from his shoulders. "No," he agreed quietly, "that won't make you with child."

You both shared a soft laugh, the awkwardness melting away as you realized it wasn’t as strange or nerve-wracking as you thought it would be.

Still, after a moment, you tilted your head and added thoughtfully, "Mayhaps we can try again another time... just to make sure."

Aemond’s face broke into a wide grin at your words, and he shook his head, still amused. "Whenever you like," he promised softly, his voice full of warmth.

Aemond’s smile remained as you shared a quiet moment, a comfortable warmth settling between the two of you. His words, soft and full of promise, made your heart flutter a little, though you tried to ignore it. Just as you were about to speak, a strange sound filled the room.

You paused, frowning in confusion as the sound persisted. Aemond’s brow furrowed, and he gave you the same puzzled look. "What is that?" you asked, your voice low and uncertain.

Before Aemond could answer, the sound came again, louder this time—a soft, irregular rattling, like something gently tapping against metal. Both of you turned your heads toward the source of the noise, your eyes settling on the small brazier pot resting on the table beside your chaise.

The pot was trembling slightly, the lid shifting ever so subtly as if something within was stirring to life.

You exchanged a wary glance with Aemond, both of you too stunned to speak. Hope flickered in your chest, a fragile, cautious feeling that you tried desperately to suppress, even though it grew with each passing second. You didn’t want to feel it—not again. Not after so many failed attempts, so many disappointments.

But as the rattling continued, you couldn’t help but let that hope bloom, filling your chest with an almost painful intensity. You could feel Aemond's steady gaze on you, as if he too shared your mixture of anticipation and disbelief. His hand lightly touched your arm, offering silent reassurance as you both stood frozen in place.

Finally, the rattling grew louder, more insistent. Aemond moved first, stepping cautiously toward the brazier pot, his movements careful, as if approaching something fragile and dangerous all at once.

Your heart pounded in your ears as Aemond gently reached out and lifted the lid.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. You held your breath, waiting, expecting the worst, but then—

A small, sharp crack echoed through the air, and your breath hitched in your throat. Aemond’s eye widened in astonishment as he stepped back slightly, motioning for you to come closer.

With shaky steps, you moved forward, peering into the brazier pot. Inside, nestled among the glowing embers, was the dragon egg—your dragon egg. And it was moving.

Tiny cracks began to spread across the surface, like delicate lines etched into stone. A tiny chirp escaped from within, soft yet insistent, and your heart leapt in your chest.

Aemond’s voice was barely a whisper, full of wonder. "It’s hatching."

You didn’t dare speak, afraid that if you did, the fragile moment would shatter. Instead, you watched in awe as the cracks grew wider, the shell breaking apart bit by bit.

Slowly, a tiny snout poked through the shell, followed by a pair of gleaming, sapphire-blue eyes that blinked up at you curiously.

Aemond’s hand slipped into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to smile.

"It’s really happening," you whispered, barely able to contain the joy welling up inside you.

Aemond stood beside you, his gaze never leaving the hatchling, and he nodded, his voice low but filled with a kind of quiet awe. "Yes, it is."

The tiny dragon stretched its delicate wings, the membrane translucent in the firelight, revealing the rich, dark blue that shimmered against the glow. It was so small, fragile even, yet there was a certain strength in its movements, as though it knew its place in the world. Its scales appeared nearly black in the dim light, but with each flicker of the brazier’s flame, a glint of deep sapphire blue reflected back at you, shimmering like the ocean at night.

You couldn't hold back the soft laugh that bubbled from your lips, a sound of pure, unrestrained joy. Your laughter caught the attention of the little dragon, whose head turned sharply towards you. It blinked, tilting its head, studying you with wide, curious eyes before letting out a sharp screech in response. The sound, though high-pitched, was surprisingly strong for such a tiny creature.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you knelt closer, your hand trembling slightly as you reached out, but you stopped just short of touching it. It felt too precious, too delicate to handle without care.

"Hello," you murmured, your voice soft and gentle, as though speaking to an infant. "Aren't you absolutely beautiful."

The little dragon blinked again, watching you intently. Its tiny nostrils flared as it took in the scent of the air, its wings fluttering slightly as it made a sound that almost resembled a purr. You couldn't help but smile wider, your heart swelling with affection.

Aemond crouched down beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder as he watched the dragon with a look of pride and admiration. "You were meant for each other," he said, his voice filled with certainty.

You looked up at him, tears still brimming in your eyes, and nodded. "I think so," you whispered.

For a long moment, the two of you sat there in quiet awe, watching as the dragon stretched its limbs, adjusting to the world it had just entered. It was strange how something so small could carry such weight, as if this tiny creature already held within it the potential for something great, something magnificent.

As the little dragon shifted closer to you, its warmth radiated through the air, and you felt a bond forming, something deeper than words could express. This was more than just a pet, more than a companion. This was a piece of your soul, reflected in scales and wings, fire and strength.

Aemond’s smile softened as he watched you with the newborn dragon, his gaze flicking between the two of you with a quiet fondness. "What will you name it?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

You beamed at the little creature before you, a warmth blooming in your chest as you finally dared to reach out. Gently, you brushed your knuckle against her soft, dark scales. She—yes, she was definitely a girl, you were certain of it—immediately leaned into your touch, her tiny body pressing closer, as if seeking comfort from your warmth.

"Treasure," you whispered, the name slipping from your lips without hesitation. A wide, contented smile grew on your face. "Her name is Treasure."

Aemond blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected name, but then a grin spread across his face, lighting up his features. Of course, you would name your dragon something soft, something sweet and endearing. It was just like you to choose a name that carried such a feeling of warmth, rather than something fierce and grand.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head in amusement. "Treasure?" he repeated, his eye twinkling with affection as he looked at you.

You looked up at him, still stroking the dragon’s scales, and nodded firmly. "Yes. Because she’s my treasure," you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Aemond’s grin only widened as he crouched down beside you again, watching as Treasure nestled closer to your hand, clearly content with the name and her newfound bond with you. "A fitting name," he said quietly, and in that moment, as he watched you and your dragon together, he could see how the two of you were meant for each other.

Treasure let out a soft, sleepy sound, curling closer to the warmth of your hand, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace. The bond between you and your dragon was only beginning, but it was already something special—something that would only grow stronger with time.

this is anything but the end

guyssss help, im literally crying thinking about young rhaenyra (milly) and reader as a baby. how reader probably became rhaenyra's new best friend and was the only thing keeping her going in court. And how rhaenyra would talk to her as a full-grown person, while reader, being a baby, would just babble back. And how rhaenyra would probably walk around taking her baby everywhere and riding on Syrax with her. BYE lol that just makes it all sadder

(side note in my head ive decided to give reader/y/n the most basic hotd name and name her aemma. because when she has her own daughter with aemond, she'll name her laenora after her father)

Treasure The dragon

I can just imagine reader doing that Sweeney Todd trend with Treasure:

ohh mr.todd 💋 i'm so happy 💋 I could - 💋 eat you up I really could. you know what I like to do mr. todd 💋 what I dream 💋

Ser Rowan

(it's rick grimes because I say so) (note I've only watched two episodes of the walking dead)

Reader's Mind in a nutshell

(I feel if I made this into a full time fic, reader could lowkey have saved the family and avoided the dance of the dragons entirely)

Hope you enjoyed!

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @waiting-fortheupdate @strawberymilktea @ninihrtss @kenqki @winter-solstice24 @darlingcharling-blog @feyresqueen @momoewn @literishdegree99 @xxxkat3xxx @6000-fandoms

[redsummermoon]

Unknown

Charlie Dalton x reader CW: use of Y/N, female reader, angst, TW Neil’s death mentioned TW [0.9k words]  Using themes from Hozier’s Work Song and Unknown/Nth.

“You just signed your expulsion papers, Nuwanda!” 

The words echo through Y/N’s mind. She paces the length of the empty classroom, her breath coming in sharp bursts. She could barely keep her thoughts straight, the noise of everything crashing down around her was overwhelming.

Across from her, Charlie sat on one of the desks, his expression unreadable. The light was dim, casting long shadows across his face. She’d never seen him so still, so quiet, and it scared her. It scared her more than the expulsion letters that were probably being drafted in the headmaster’s office at that very moment.

“They’re going to expel you, Charlie. I know they are,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. Her voice was shaky, barely holding together, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if to keep from falling apart. “You punched Cameron, you defied Nolan. They’re going to blame you for all of it. And I—” She bit her lip, forcing down the rising panic. “What if I never see you again?”

Charlie leaned back on his hands, eyes steady on her. He shrugged, the nonchalance on the surface, but Y/N could see the tension in his shoulders. “Maybe they will. Maybe they won’t. It doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Y/N’s voice cracked, a mixture of frustration and fear. She took a few steps toward him, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Charlie, how can you say that? This is your life we’re talking about. They’re going to throw you out, and what then? You’re just... okay with that?”

Charlie exhaled, finally standing up and closing the distance between them. His hands found hers, gently loosening her fists. His grip was warm, steady and reassuring, in a way only Charlie could be. “Y/N, none of this... Welton, expulsion, any of it... matters to me anymore. Not after everything that’s happened. Not after Neil.”

Y/N’s heart stung at the mention of Neil’s name. The grief was still so raw, and she hadn’t even begun to process it. None of them had. “You’re angry, and you’re hurt, I get that. But Charlie, I can’t lose you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Charlie’s eyes softened, and he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You won’t lose me,” he said quietly, as if the truth of it was so simple, so inevitable. “They can expel me, throw me out of Welton, but I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears brimmed over now, spilling down her cheeks. “But what if your parents send you so far away? What if you can’t come back? What if…” Her voice trailed off as she choked back a sob.

Charlie cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing away her tears. “Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft, yet filled with an intensity that made her chest tighten. “You know the distance would never make a difference to me. There’s nothing that could keep me from you.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart aching at the conviction in his voice. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

Charlie’s lips curled into a small, sad smile. “Yeah, I do.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist as if to anchor her. “You’re the only thing in this place that’s real to me, Y/N. If I have to leave, I’ll still find my way back to you. Always.”

She rested her forehead against his chest, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His heart beat steadily beneath her cheek. “But what if they tear us apart?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Charlie tilted her chin up so that their eyes met, his gaze fierce but full of tenderness. “They won’t. They can’t. What we have... it’s bigger than them. It’s bigger than all of this.” His voice dropped lower, a quiet, intimate tone meant only for her. “I’d walk through hell for you, Y/N. There’s nothing in this world that can keep me away from you.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as his words sank in. She’d always known Charlie was intense, rebellious, but this was something else. His love for her wasn’t just a passing emotion, it was something deep and immovable, like bedrock beneath the surface. “You’d really do that for me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the weight of everything between them.

“Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “I’d do anything for you.”

Her tears flowed freely now, but there was a strange sort of peace in them. For the first time that night, the panic subsided, replaced by something steadier. Charlie wasn’t going to let them be torn apart. Not by Welton, not by the expulsion that was looming over him like a storm cloud. He was hers, and nothing could change that.

After a moment of silence, Y/N spoke again, her fingers brushing the back of his hand, “That’s probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Charlie grinned, a flicker of his usual playful self shining through the serious mood. “Well, I aim to please.”

Y/N laughed, a sound that surprised even her. It was small, soft, but it was something. She leaned up and kissed him, her lips gentle against his, a silent thank-you for the comfort he was offering, for the promise he had made.

When she pulled back, her fingers stayed laced with his. “I love you,” she whispered, the words carrying the weight of all her fears and hopes in them.

Charlie’s eyes darkened with emotion, and he leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you too. And no matter what happens, that won’t change.”

[asukaskerian]

prompt 4 for moshang with the mood "incensed" would be hilarous i imagine

Mythology - Foretold by the gods - moshang

--

So he might have, maybe, at some point -- some late at night or maybe very early point -- tried to figure out an OC for Mobei-jun to ship w fuck. Dude was so perfect, it was a shame his dump truck ass and sequoia thighs remained unembraced. (Also the whole "he's so mysterious and never opens up and unveils his deep thoughts and tender feelings except for me" fantasy but never mind all that.)

He'd gone exactly as far as 'Meeting: why tf would he notice anyone. Dashing rescue? Why does he need a rescue he's too cool and basically untrappable anyway, what are they rescuing him from socializing with his cousins lmao???' on his notes before giving up on making it realistic. The next scribble was 'cuz i said so ok next'. 

There had been no 'next'. His battery had died and when he managed to get home and get his laptop plugged in it was time for another word vomit on the topic of Bing-ge's meat truncheon.

[Secret side-quest: Easter egg! 1/536 discovered. Keep going!][Category: "is it a headcanon if you didn't think it up with your upper head?" 1/413]

'System-bro, what the entire fuck!?!' Airplane screeched inside his heart of hearts; ass on the floor (bruising), clothes askew (from sleeping in them!!), and the most gorgeous, terrifying man he'd ever seen staring down at him from the bed they'd crashed into (Mobei-jun first, because unconscious, Airplane later, because idiot) the previous night.

Because he had expected being sneered at; being talked down to; being attacked on sight. Being haughtily ignored, after sufficient groveling at crotch level.

But his most perfect, most unattainable creation, that Himalayan peak made flesh, saying that --

--

The problem with Airplane was, he didn't trust people. He didn't trust them to share their feelings and decisions with him freely instead of leaving him reeling at yet another swerve of which he was merely collateral damage. He didn't trust them not to lie to themselves, or even know they were lying to themselves, so even if they did tell him what they thought or felt he assumed they were doing the polite 'the real reason is none of your business but telling you to fuck off is rude' thing at best.

So yes, his favorite game from childhood had been to pick someone in the crowd and tell himself stories about their life. This guy is a grandfather of seven and doesn't know the birthday of a single grandkid and his eldest son just pointed it out to him, but not even angrily which is worse because that's how low the bar he failed to clear was, that's why the fancy package and the gloomy expression. That girl just broke up -- she's so angry though -- he was fucking her sister. No wait, her nails are short, it was a girlfriend for sure; she fucked her brother, a double betrayal. It had evolved into telling himself stories about his classmates and his half-siblings and his parents, since they were never ever gonna bother to invite him to take a real glimpse inside, anyway. 

He was fully aware that statistically speaking he was probably wrong a lot of the time, but 1. coming up with coherent narratives was satisfying enough to smother the jealousy and loneliness and 2. as far as he was concerned it was true until proved otherwise, which was never.

But a guy who gave him nothing to work with. That was a challenge. That was fascinating. 

....

But a guy who greeted him by "You are to be my husband?" with a tone of dismay?!

What the fuck! What the fuck!! What the flying dick-flapping fuck!!!

He was so shocked, he forgot to kowtow. 

"You uh. My king?" He hadn't made the guy so above it all that he landed straight back into a a naive ingenue, right? "Just sleeping on the same mattress doesn't -- people don't have to be married to share--" 

The muggy air of the inn room went so cold so fast that condensation rolled cold drops down his back. 

(The effect didn't last; there was a haze in the air, briefly, and then a suffocating breeze from outside ruined the surprise air-con.)

"You will not speak to me like an idiot child," Mobei-jun-to-be rumbled threateningly, and then ruined the cool by continuing in that wtf vein. "My husband will show respect to his wife or his wife shall reign as a widow."

Holy shit, now Mobei-jun was the wife???!?!??? What? What! Airplane was dead. Again. For good. 

He stayed down there sitting on his ass, waiting for the world to make sense. It didn't happen. The man of his masochistic dreams had crossed his arms over his massive bara titties like a barricade and was now sulking up there like an offended wi-- no, he couldn't even think it. 

"My -- my king? It's only, ah, your humble servant doesn't... recall... getting married...?"

Eyes as blue as the afterimage of a lightning strike speared him through, metaphorically.

"Not yet. But we must." 

He let out a long sigh; and his face didn't twitch when he moved to aggravate his wound, but the way he stilled for a breath was telling. Shang not-yet-Qinghua winced in reflexive sympathy.

"There is a prophecy."

"... Ah?" A prophecy. About his king. That he hadn't put into the story. That he hadn't even scribbled into the margins or thought about. 'System?!'

[Yes, valued User?]

"There is a prophecy for each generation, and most of them don't matter," the ice demon using that shitty inn bed as his throne said with a bitter tone. "But the eleventh ruler of the Northern Desert will be heralded by his foretold spouse; that is how he is confirmed."

"Ohh," Airplane said intelligently and with characteristic eloquence. 

"'You will know them by these things," his king quoted sourly, "first, they will heal you; second, share your bed; third, offer their hand, and service, and their soul."

'Their soul! Their soul!! I was offering my sneakiness and maybe my dick, ah?! System!!! Who told you to mess up my creation with made-up prophecies?!'

[The easter egg category: "is it a headcanon if you didn't think it up with your upper head?" belongs to the third rung of canon : Word of God.]

But he hadn't told anyone--

But he'd written it down, he remembered now. 'Cuz i said so.'

Oh god. Oh immortals ascended before him. Oh little ancestors in both and either worlds. Someone fix this for him. "My king. Haha. My king, that is -- so vague! So vague?! How can there not be a dozen candidates with criteria so -- so stupid? And if the prophecy is common knowledge then people knew them in advance?! How were you not sabotaged right and left--"

...Oh no. He was gorgeous when he smirked like this, slow and feline, satisfied. My king, so unfair.

"This prince has long since made it a point not to sleep where others may catch him." A delicate pause. "He has also made it a point to return misplaced agents to his most obstinate siblings's chambers at a time his elders may not miss them."

"--Oh. Disqualifying them for trying to disqualify you -- so smart, my king!" For a moment, he had gotten enthused. But then he remembered that they were discussing his sudden non-canon matrimony, and then he started poking it for plot holes. "But -- just anybody can share your bed."

"The language is old, and clear. The prophecy speaks of the only person to ever share this king's bed."

... Hhghhhk.

That stare. So hard. Offended. Those cheekbones. So cutting. That nose, regal; that hair.

"My king," Airplane said as he climbed up to his feet, eyes trained on the floor and his knees and the things spread on the table and anything else at all. "Have you ever thought that the 'sharing a bed' section was metaphorical?" 

He met the demon's eyes then, incredulous and angry, buoyant with it. "You haven't even shown me your dick and you think I should be making recompense?! What the fuck! Passing out on the same shitty mattress doesn't mean getting deflowered! I didn't knock you up with a snowball ass egg, why the fuck should I--"

Oh, he was tall. Also wide. Especially wide. Flatten me daddy indeed. 

Oh, he was angry.

"It is not. Metaphorical. Though if all you need is to see my body--"

His hand landed on his belt. Shang eventually-Qinghua stopped breathing, body hot and bubbling with too much emotion--

It read like one of his waifu plots, the Joan of Arc types, unconquerable holy virgins except via the pressure of greater good.

A vague scrying over some random-ass kingdom, a little prophecy and welp! Nothing to it, just gotta fuck it out for the marital bed and then never again. At least you getting lawfully reamed has saved Bumfucknowhereistan.

'System. Demerit if I say hell no?'

[The bonus Mobei-jun questline remains optional, and brings User no penalties on opt-out.]

'Great.'

Like hell he was jumping into marriage because he liked some guy's face and didn't want to be bothered by geriatric busybodies tittering over his lack of wedlock. Who was he, his mother?

"I'll pass. Sorry, my king, at least I'm ditching you long before the altar?"

And with a sweep of his hand, he dumped all his things off the table and into his qiankun pouch, and was jumping out the window and doing a sick flip trick on his trusty borrowed blade. Airplane over and out, bro! 

Thanks for nothing. Now his spank bank was forever tainted.

--

Three days later he was still dealing with bursts of anger and anguish and other moronic emotions, which didn't help navigating his miraculous return to the sect ("I was so scared!" lost its impact if he broke a sneery judgmental Shixiong's ankle with a well-placed kick) or the medical peak's nosiness ("Who cares about the bruises, my biggest injury is my blue balls and broken heart, thanks!") or Shen not-quite-Quingqiu's scalpel eyes.

His king's eyes were prettier. 

His king was never going to be his king. Optional quest line. Yeah. He vaguely wondered how the System planned to make him betray the sect, then, who for, and then decided it wasn't his problem. Fuck it. He was sure it could do blackout poetry with his notes and pull out some contrived justification that would amount for half as much incentive as Mobei-jun's everything. 

His fierce determination, his fearlessness, his skill, his -- his body.

His body that was extremely too visible on Shang in-his-soul-Qinghua's disciple bed, shoulders draped in furs and bountiful meaty muscle on full frontal display.

"I will not," he growled low and quiet, "be discarded by my spouse."

"Hhg."

He had snow leopard rosettes on his flanks in dusky blue, secret patterns never appeared in any cover art Airplane had commissioned. 

[Secret side-quest: Easter egg! 2/536 discovered. Keep going!]

... Oh god, it turned out Shang Qinghua was exactly as stupid as Bing-ge's most ice-cold chaste wives. Because 'lie back and think of England?' Yeah, he was going to think of England and that dick.

[ladelinee]

Authors note: Hi! I’m back! I fought against writer’s block. I took my time, and I bring you a longer piece! Thank you for your patience! 🤩 (again, sorry for any grammar mistakes)

Word count: 4,4K

Warnings: SMUT! +18 language, fluff.

All shook up

Part 5

Once I had removed with a damp towel the mascara marks that were left on my lower eyelid due to extreme closing of my eyes and sweat, I stared at the sink with a lost gaze.

What had just happened was simply inexplicable. The skin-to-skin sensation, his kisses, everything he did to me... I would never have imagined being half-naked in his bathroom.

But suddenly the shadows returned to my head, the fact of risking my job with this that could be temporary distressed me too much.

Without realizing it, a small ray of light emerged from the shadows and illuminated my ideas again. Elvis was running his kisses down my back.

“Take the day off, and stay right here here all day and night” he said with a tender smile.

My gaze wandered from the sink to the mirror, where I saw him rest his chin on my shoulder as he looked at me like a little child, never wanting the fun to end.

“You know I can't, they could see me,” I replied, looking into his eyes from the mirror and heading back to the room.

“Well, why don't we just sneak away? I could take ya to Graceland one of these days, and we wouldn't have a care in the world.” Elvis said as he watched me put my uniform shirt back on.

"Mmm sounds interesting," I said as I turned to look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Well, I have to go to the office to sort out some papers before they wonder where I have been."

"Ohhh... can't those papers wait?" he said, playing while he removed the hair that rested on my cheeks.

"Well... but only for a little while," I smiled as he blushed at me, still finishing buttoning my shirt.

"So just for a lil’ while, huh?" Elvis answered as his thumb caressed my lower lip, and then leaned in and kissed me.

We started hearing background noise and suddenly Joe and Red appeared in the room.

We had a shock, Elvis fixed them with a murderous look while I tried to cover my shirt which was still open.

Red was a little more shocked than Joe to see the scene.

“Elvis, for fucks sake!” Joe said panting.

Red, however, looked at me, and then at Elvis with a frown without saying a word.

"Goddammit! Don't ya guys know how to knock??" Elvis answered, surprised and angry, more from the scare than from them having entered.

Joe and Red shrugged as if it were a regular occurrence.

"I-I'm sorry boss, we thought you weren't here," Red said, seeming like he was the one who had been caught by surprise.

"We saw the housekeeping ladies cleaning the suite and we assumed you weren't here. Where were you? Man, you're going to give me a heart attack. This is the second time I've lost track of you," Joe said in a worried tone.

"And it seems to be for the same reason..." Red muttered, smirking as he looked at me. He was starting to understand what was happening.

"I, uh... well, we've been playing hide and seek, guys," Elvis said in a relaxed tone among colleagues. It was clear that he was starting to joke to lighten the issue.

As Joe and Red looked at me, I waved at them.

"Hide and seek? Hahaha, seriously, man?" Joe said between laughs. It seemed like it wasn't the first time that Elvis made up an excuse to hide the fact that he had had sex.

"I’m real serious!" Elvis said as he laughed.

"And was she good at playing hide-and-seek? Has she been able to find your hidden treasure?" Joe asked. Red closed his eyes tightly, focusing on not laughing, and covered his mouth to suppress his laughter. Unable to contain himself, he started laughing. Red knew that depending on the day, Elvis could either take jokes very well or react badly.

I gave a light smirk as I watched them enjoying themselves and joking with each other, but at the same time, I felt uncomfortable. Elvis noticed my expression.

"Honey, don't ya worry. Them fellas are my loyal crew. They ain’t spillin’ a single word." Elvis said as he put his arm around my shoulders.

"Otherwise, he will fire us like dogs," Red added.

"You betcha," Elvis responded, laughing at Red's words as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

“By the way, E, Sinatra hasn’t confirmed for tomorrow night’s party yet,” Joe said, changing the subject. At that moment, my face turned pale.

“The party! Oh my god, I need to leave now,” I exclaimed, putting into words what was screaming in my head. Elvis was surprised by my sudden change. “Baby, you okay?” he asked, watching me as I rushed to grab my shoes.

“Yeah… uh, sorry, we had a staff meeting to organize the party and I completely forgot about it! I’m late for that meeting,” I confessed, breathing heavily from the haste of my movements. Joe and Red continued conversing, but my nerves were so heightened that I couldn’t focus on their words.

Once I reach the door to leave, Elvis interrupts my exit by standing between me and the door.

"Hold on now, you reckon you can just up and leave like that?" He said with a serious tone.

"Elvis, I..." I responded.

“Like that, without kissin’ me? This country ain’t tax-free, miss,” Elvis teased, curling his lip into a smile as he enveloped me in his arms. I sighed in relief, smiling, and kissed his juicy lips, feeling myself blush again.

Joe and Red looked at each other with a knowing look.

"Take care, lil’one. See ya later," Elvis whispered after our kiss.

————————

As I entered the meeting room in haste, the atmosphere immediately shifted. All eyes turned towards me, and I felt the weight of their gaze as if it were physically pressing down on me. The chairs in the room were arranged in a circle, which heightened the sense of scrutiny.

I noticed disapproving expressions, including frowns and raised eyebrows, as people observed my slightly more untidy appearance than usual.

Seated in the middle of the circle I found Angelica. Her lips curled into a smug smile as she watched me, clearly enjoying my lateness and untidiness.

"Miss Y/ln, you're late!" Mark, my boss, exclaimed. He was standing, explaining the planning.

"Sorry, there was a lot of work," I replied, scanning the room for a free chair. At the end of the room, I could spot Alex waving his arm, indicating the free space he had reserved for me.

The tension in the room was palpable, almost suffocating, as I made my way to my seat. Whispers and murmurs followed me, cutting through the silence like knives.

"Girl, what happened? You got me a bit worried " Alex whispered as I settled into the seat next to him. I could still feel the walls of my vagina sore as I adjusted.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about the meeting," I replied, still trying to catch my breath.

"Well, Mr. Presley's party is going to be a VIP event. That means we need our best employees. Nothing can go wrong, so all the section leaders are going to be serving at that party. Angelica, you will be in charge of receiving the guests. Y/n will be in charge of refilling and offering champagne. Who wants to be in charge of the catering?" Mark explained in the background.

"So, tell me! What's wrong with those raccoon eyes? Has he made you cry? No, that can't be it... you came here too happy, forgot about the meeting, and appeared messier than usual..."

I couldn't help but laugh at his blunt conclusion.

"You've probably already guessed it," I answered with a wink.

Alex's eyes widened in mock surprise and said “Oh my god! Tell me the juicy details later. Right now, let’s concentrate on not getting skewered by Angelica’s murderous gaze.”

I checked out Angelica, sitting across the circle, looking way too pleased with herself.

"Ugh, speaking of the devil. It's like she's enjoying my misery as if it's her own personal victory" I grumbled.

"Don't stress, I got your back. Get ready for the passive-aggressive comments and eye rolls," Alex chimed in, ready to be my office drama bodyguard.

I couldn't help but chuckle at his determination to keep me safe from workplace shenanigans.

As I grabbed my stuff at the end of the meeting, getting ready to make a quick exit, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see Angelica's smug face, holding my jacket.

"Looks like you left something, darling," she said, her tone dripping with condescension.

"Oh, thanks, Angelica. Must've left it in Mr. Presley's suite," I replied, trying to keep it cool, but her intense stare made it tough to keep my cool. Taking the jacket from her hand, I couldn't help but feel ticked off at her gloating.

"You know, not every day someone leaves their stuff in Mr. Presley’s suite. Quite an achievement, huh?" she remarked, her words dripping with sarcasm. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her thinly veiled digs.

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just lucky to be hired to specifically serve him " I replied with a forced smile, hoping to end the conversation asap. But Angelica seemed determined to drag out my discomfort.

"Well, don't let it get to your head. We wouldn't want Mr. Presley thinking you're more than just an employee," she quipped as she sauntered away, her laughter echoing in my ears, leaving me simmering with frustration. I couldn't wait to put this encounter behind me and finally leave the room.

————-

The party exuded elegance, with music filling the air. I hustled to refill champagne glasses as guests streamed in, eager to enjoy the night.

Despite the crowd, I still hadn't spotted Elvis among the guests. Suddenly, familiar faces caught my eye. Turning my head, I saw Colonel Parker, his imposing presence accentuated by his trademark hat. His gaze met mine briefly as he took a puff of his cigar.

Amidst the attendees, I recognized some of Elvis's MM, chatting animatedly in a corner. The atmosphere buzzed with energy and excitement, and I struggled to keep my cool.

Suddenly, the crowd parted, applause rippled through the guests, and there he was, Elvis, encircled by friends attempting to greet him. He moved gracefully through the crowd, flashing a charming smile and relishing the attention.

"That's the guy who wrecked my friend’s private parts. Y/n, keep sticking to your high standards, you'll end up in a wheelchair," Alex remarked, catching me off guard. He stood beside me, gathering empty glasses to wash, a task I hadn't

even noticed him doing amidst my nerves.

“You’re quite the loudmouth!” I chuckled, then found myself falling under Elvis’s spell once again from across the room. The way he talked, the way he moved—his charisma just made me like him even more.

I’ve never seen Elvis Presley look as sharp as he does tonight. He had this magnetic presence, and his outfit was effortlessly stylish. Rocking a fitted black jacket that showed off his shape, paired with a crisp white shirt that made his tan pop, Elvis exuded an aura of sophistication.

The black pants he wore fit perfectly, but what truly caught my eye was his belt and golden necklace, adorned with inlaid precious stones that sparkled with every movement.

His dark gold glasses added a hint of mystery to his piercing gaze, sending shivers down my spine.

After a while, I noticed Elvis's eyes land on me. A flutter stirred in my stomach as I locked eyes with him, and for a moment, it felt as though time stood still as we gazed at each other amidst the lively atmosphere of the party.

Joe Esposito was the first to come over, his big frame easily seen among the crowd. With a knowing grin, he walked up and grabbed a glass of champagne, giving me a wink.

Then Red, Sonny, and Jerry followed suit, each getting a drink and joking around, their tall bodies blocking my view. The bunch of familiar faces left me feeling a bit lost, unsure who would come next. Their laughter and friendly chatter filled the room.

But then, the next one to arrive was unmistakable: Elvis. I was shocked to see him making his way through the crowd toward me, his piercing stare beneath his glasses locked onto mine. Despite the crowd around us, it felt like it was just him and me in that moment. My heart started racing as I wondered what he would say and how I would respond.

"How's your evenin' been, darlin'? Ain't seen hide nor hair of ya since yesterday." he inquired with a warm smile, though his voice held a hint of intimacy that only I could pick up on.

"Pretty good, thank you, Mr. Presley. Been tied up with party prep with the crew," I answered politely, brushing off the subtle spark I felt passing between us.

"Hey, why ain’t ya drinking?" Elvis questioned, sounding like one of my best friends.

"Mr. Presley, I'm not supposed to drink while on duty," I answered with a gentle smile.

"I'll take care of it!... MARK!" Elvis called out to my boss, who happened to be in the room. It was clear that the head of International had to attend VIP events like this.

My eyes widened in surprise, and I quickly shushed Elvis, feeling embarrassed by his public call to my boss. However, he ignored my gesture and continued calling out to Mark.

With a gesture, Elvis passed me a glass of champagne, casting a glance at my boss that seemed to ask, "Is it alright?" My boss sighed and nodded with a forced smile. He understood the golden rule: the customer, especially Elvis, must always be satisfied.

Turning back to me with a broad grin, Elvis declared, "All sorted! Cheers, darlin’!" as he handed me the champagne flute.

Elvis moved in closer, grabbed another glass of champagne, subtly raised it in a toast to me, and took a sip. Leaning in slightly, he whispered in my ear with a suggestive tone, "If we weren't in public, I'd fuck ya in front of a mirror so you could see how stunning you are, especially when ya open your legs f’me."

My heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, causing me to hold the champagne in my mouth momentarily before swallowing it slowly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Presley, but we have to maintain professionalism here," I responded, though my voice trembled slightly.

He nodded in understanding, but his intense gaze betrayed his true intentions. "Of course, darlin’. But it just don’t sit right with me seein’ you servin’ drinks instead of bein’ right here by my side. And I can’t help but notice that little smile sneakin’ ’round the corners of your mouth." he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I attempted to maintain a neutral expression as I subtly edged away, but Elvis had already ensnared my attention. Glancing around, I noticed Angelica observing us. With a sense of urgency, I sought to bring the conversation to a close before it veered into dangerous territory. "Thank you for the compliment, Mr. Presley."

He gave a nod with a charming smile, then melted into the crowd, leaving my heart racing and my mind in a whirl.

The night dragged on, feeling like an eternity. Whenever Elvis swung by for champagne, he made sure I joined in. His presence injected excitement into the party, and every chat with him added a bit of spice to the evening’s hustle and bustle. As time passed, I found myself growing less shy, enjoying the company of both the guests and Elvis more, and feeling a little more fired up with each passing moment.

When Elvis returned, his presence exuded a magnetic aura that drew all eyes to him. He gracefully took a glass, his eyes gleaming with a playful spark that brought a smile to my lips. Pausing for a moment, I locked eyes with him as he lifted his sunglasses slightly. His grin widened, showcasing his irresistible charm.

"You are the most attractive man I have ever seen. You have to stop being so fucking attractive," I stated with a confidence that caught me off guard, unconcerned about who else might overhear.

Elvis was stunned for a moment, scanning his surroundings before bursting into laughter. “Ya feelin’ alright?” he asked between laughs, his voice filled with warmth and amusement.

Feeling a bit dizzy, but reassured by his playful expression, I nodded. Before the other guests could notice anything, Elvis shifted his tone, his gaze now full of complicity.

“You’ve had enough, darling. C’mere with me, lil’ one. You need a break,” he suggested, offering me his arm with a charming smile.

Alex, returning with fresh glasses, witnessed the scene from a distance. He quickly diverted my boss’s attention to prevent him from noticing. Meanwhile, Angelica observed everything with disbelief, unable to trust her own eyes.

Elvis graciously led me to an adjacent private room, away from the hustle and bustle of the main party. Only the faint background music from the party could be heard in the room. A sturdy, round wooden table occupied the center, surrounded by luxurious velvet-upholstered chairs. In the center of the table, a poker board gleamed under the dim light of the lamps.

As he settled me into one of the chairs, Elvis looked at me with concern, snapping his fingers in front of my eyes. “Hey, I gotcha. Don’t ya worry, honey. Let me get ya some water,” he said in a soft voice, his dark eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and concern.

Feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol, I leaned against the back of the chair and gave him a mischievous look. “I’m perfectly fine… for us to make love,” I murmured, my voice dripping with mischief.

Elvis smiled, but before he could respond, I rushed towards him, giving him a passionate kiss that left both of us breathless. However, when I attempted to escalate things further, Elvis gently stopped me, easing himself away from me.

“Darlin’, I reckon it’d be best for ya to just lay on down and take it easy before ya go doin’ anythin,” he said in a sympathetic tone. "Sugar, just hang tight in the suit . I'll come join ya later on." he added with a reassuring smile.

"If you still ain't feelin' right later on, we don't gotta go doing nothin', darlin'. Tonight, I'll be right here takin' care of ya.” he promised, his voice brimming with tenderness and genuine concern.

I nodded, feeling both disappointed and grateful, seeing the sense in what he said. But as I tried to stand up from the chair, my legs decided to go on strike, and I ended up tumbling to the floor.

Just then, the door swung open, and the Colonel swaggered in, followed by more folks from the party. “Poker to cap off the night! Elvis, you’ve got great taste,” the Colonel cheered with a grin, totally clueless about the chaos unfolding under the table.

With the Colonel's entrance, the vibe in the room took a sharp turn. More guests flooded in, bringing with them laughter and lively chatter. Elvis, despite his attempts to stay cool, couldn't hide his nerves, his restless gaze betraying his anxiety.

As the crowd grew, I figured it was best to lay low and hide under the table to avoid drawing attention. From my hiding spot I watched nervously as Elvis, with slick moves, positioned himself to cover me up and keep me out of sight.

Elvis adopted a relaxed posture, interacting with the guests as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His smile appeared genuine, but I could detect a hint of tension in his voice as he talked with the guests. Meanwhile, I remained still under the table, holding my breath.

As the poker game progressed, the atmosphere was filled with excitement, although I found it extremely boring waiting down there. Repositioning himself in the chair, Elvis made sure that no one could see beyond his waist, spreading his legs in the process. Suddenly, his crotch was exposed in front of me. Although under other circumstances I would have held back, the alcohol encouraged me to be a little more daring that night.

I started gently massaging Elvis's legs, tracing soft lines with my fingers that slowly moved towards his crotch. When my hand made contact with that sensitive area, Elvis reacted with a slight jump, instinctively trying to close his legs. However, I decided to defy his attempt to stop and parted them again, observing as his breathing became more labored in response to my advances.

My lips approached the bulge that was starting to form under his pants, letting out my warm breath that filtered through the fabric. Meanwhile, Elvis cleared his throat, while he tried to focus his attention on whoever was shuffling the cards.

Elvis's bulge appeared to swell, pressing against the zipper with an evident urgency, as if seeking release. Curious to explore further, I confidently unbuttoned his pants, only to discover he wasn't wearing underwear. My surprise mingled with excitement as I gently released his length, feeling his response to my touch with each movement.

I firmly wrapped my fingers and palm around the length of his cock, gently sliding it up and down, observing as his skin stretched to reveal the delicate pink of his tip. Meanwhile, Elvis anxiously bit his lip and drummed his fingers on the table, awaiting the dealing of the cards.

Noticing Elvis's demeanor, Joe chimed in with a proposal brimming with goodwill.

“Hey Elvis, need a cigarette? I’ll grab one for you,” he offered, aiming to calm his nerves amid the laughter attempting to diffuse the tense poker atmosphere.

Elvis nodded silently, unable to articulate any words due to the mixture of sensations that surrounded him at that moment.

My movements became firmer, applying gentle pressure to his cock and observing his response to the stimulation. Small drops of precum emerged, which I delicately spread over the tip using my index finger. Wanting to enhance lubrication, I spitted out a small amount of saliva, which glided smoothly over his skin, allowing for more fluid movements as I explored new sensations with him.

With a trembling hand, Elvis lifted the two cards lying face down on the table. As Joe approached with the cigarette in hand, Elvis halted his advance.

"No, no, stay there. Don’t want nobody peekin’ at my cards, ya hear?” he requested firmly, making sure to keep my presence under the table a secret. He extended his hands toward Joe, motioning for him to throw the cigarette at him.

After receiving the cigar, Elvis lit it with an agile and expert movement, allowing the smoke to slide slowly between his lips while he let out a soft roar, as if this exhalation of air carried with it some of the tension and pleasure accumulated inside him. The gesture was barely perceptible, but it resonated in the atmosphere charged with anticipation, like an echo of the internal battle raging in his mind as he prepared to face what would come next.

And the expected first contact arrived. Gently, my tongue traced an upward path from the base to the tip of his cock, exploring his smooth skin and the swollen veins that marked the contour.

As I reached the tip, my tongue started circling it, exploring every inch. The slightly salty taste mixed with the musky aroma from his skin made me even more drawn to him.

As I continued, my hands slid to his balls, adding another layer of delight. Elvis closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose beneath his sunglasses, looking fatigued to onlookers but secretly enjoying the slow and pleasurable sensation I was providing him.

I could feel the movement of his penis against my lips, giving small spasms, and his legs trembling. Elvis was silent; when he wasn't taking a drag from the cigarette, he was biting his knuckles.

I continued the sweet torture for a few minutes, while Elvis began to fidget in his seat. Seizing the opportunity during a fake coughing fit, he grabbed my hair and pushed his cock into my mouth. The corners of my lips stretched, stinging slightly at the sudden invasion of his girth.

Feeling his cock reach the back of my throat triggered a discomfort that I struggled to hide. The noise of Elvis’s strategically executed coughing provided the perfect cover to mask the sound of my mild nausea.

My chin brushed against his balls, and my nose was buried in his perfectly trimmed pubic hair as I started a slow rocking motion, gently sliding in and out. With each movement, strings of saliva trailed from my mouth, further lubricating his skin.

The realization that I was pushing Elvis to the edge with my skills filled me with pride and excitement. A warm tingle spread through my crotch, causing my nipples to harden, and I couldn’t help but rub my thighs together.

As my rocking gained a steady rhythm, I felt Elvis's gentle thrusts into my mouth, indicating his growing arousal. His hand descended again to take control of my hair, imposing an increasingly faster rhythm to our movements. I could feel his cock tighten, announcing his impending climax.

“Well, Elvis, what’s your move?” the Colonel’s voice inquired from the background, putting pressure on Elvis with his bet.

“I’m going all-in,” Elvis answered with a confident smile.

Guiding himself, he intensified the pace, pushing his cock deeper into my throat. Tears began to flow from my eyes at the reflection of feeling his penis jerking deep in my throat. I closed my eyes tightly, surrendering completely to the moment. My mouth filled with his fluids, and with an instinctive gesture, I swallowed his nectar, leaving a salty taste with a sweet aftertaste on my palate.

“Dammit," exclaimed the Colonel amid laughter and moans from those present, while he recognized Elvis's masterstroke. "He had it all figured out! My boy hit me with a royal flush!"

Elvis let out a sigh that echoed throughout the room, an exhalation filled with relief, release and satisfaction, followed by a laugh that reflected his mastery of the game and the art of maintaining an impassive expression.

He sure knows how to keep a good poker face.

Need to recap? Part 4 here

Part 6

Tags: @msamarican ❤️

[chvoswxtch]

Hi baby! Congratulations on your amazing milestone! I’d like to order a margarita with Frank Castle and the song ‘cinnamon girl’ by Lana del Rey, specifically the quote: “there’s things I wanna say to you but I’ll just let you live, If you hold me without hurting me you’ll be the first who ever did”.

It’d be very self indulgent as I just got out of an extremely abusive relationship with my ex bf and i just moved to the other side of the country and I feel like frank would be so soft spoken and careful when holding me after everything I’ve been through 💗

my sweet angel,

firstly I want to say that I am so proud of you. it takes a lot of bravery and strength to do what you did, and I am so happy that you made it out of that situation. secondly, I want you to know there is nothing that you ever said or did that would warrant/excuse that kind of treatment. and finally, I want you to know that I feel very special that you trusted me with this. that means so much to me, and I hope I did you justice.

I didn't go too heavy into detail in terms of the bad things, and tried to keep it more light and fluffy for you.

please know this community is your safe space, and we are all behind you and rooting for you and supporting you. thank you again for trusting me, and I hope you enjoy my darling. huge fucking cheers to you. 🥂💗

blurb below the cut

cinnamon girl

if you hold me without hurting me, you’ll be the first who ever did

Frank Castle was a very large, intimidating man. He was tall, built like a brick wall, and it didn’t help that his features were always fixed in a broody and unapproachable expression. He could be violent and cold, speak with a wicked and harsh tongue, and tear through things in his path with his bare hands.

But he was always delicate with you. His eyes were softer, and seemed to lighten to a warmer shade of brown when he looked at you. His full lips parted into a smile when you were in his presence, and your favorite were his grins that split his mouth wide open to show off his dazzling teeth. The soft crinkles it created by his eyes and the way his eyes shrank from the rise of his cheeks past the bridge of his large nose made him look gentler, and younger even. His laughter was deep and melodic as it bellowed in his chest, echoing in your ears like a lullaby. His touch was exceptionally kind, and his tone was tender as the deep bass of his voice weaved around you like a warm blanket. He never moved too quickly into your space, and he continually asked for consent until he learned to read your nonverbal cues.

Frank made you feel safe. The safest you had ever felt. You knew that he would rather die a thousand times over than ever say an unkind word to you, or lay a hand on you in a way that was anything other than affectionate.

You knew that.

But the two of you were arguing over something trivial, and his voice had been steadily increasing in volume, and loud noises had always made you anxious, but loud and angry men always sent you into fight or flight. He wasn’t yelling, but his deep voice seemed to boom like resentful claps of thunder in the space of the living room. The amplification already had your hands trembling with subconscious fear, but it was when he threw his hands up in exasperation that you really started to spiral.

It was just a simple gesture. It wasn’t directed at you. He wasn’t even close enough to touch you, even if he stretched his arms out wide. But still, you flinched.

And suddenly it was silent.

The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heart pounding in your chest and your breaths struggling to escape out of your lungs. You hadn’t noticed your vision had gone black until you felt the strain behind your eyelids, opening your eyes slowly until a very horrified Frank came into view. He appeared to be frozen in place, his hands still raised in midair, and when he caught your gaze on them, he immediately dropped them and took a few steps backwards.

For what felt like an eternity, the two of you just stared at each other. The confusion and terror was evident on Frank’s face, and you couldn’t imagine what your own looked like. Your mind and heart were at war on the next move. Part of you wanted to run, but you couldn’t move your feet. The other part wanted to reach out for the safety net of Frank’s arms. It was getting increasingly harder for you to breathe as you felt the familiar onset of hyperventilation, and you instantly kicked into survivor mode, repeating a mantra that came second nature to you.

“I…I”m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t…mean to…I’m sorry. Please don’t…I’m sorry-”

“Hey…hey, you ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for. Didn’t do anythin’ wrong, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, can ya do that?”

The sting of tears warmed your lower lash line, and your face twisted up in regret and lingering fear as you stared over at Frank. The look on his face hurt worse than anything anyone else had ever done to you before.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Baby, please stop apologizin’. Please? Can I…alright if I come closer?”

Frank kept his tone gentle and his voice quiet as he looked at you in pity and concern. You quickly nodded your head as you clenched your fists tightly at your sides, reminding yourself that this was Frank. This was different. He wasn’t going to hurt you. He very slowly lifted his hands up in a sign of surrender, taking careful and languid steps towards you.

“Tell me what you need from me. What can I do to help, baby?”

“I…I don’t…I don’t know, I’m sorry-”

“Hey, s’alright. Can I touch you? That okay?”

Even though you nodded your head frantically, Frank still took his time approaching you, carefully wrapping his arms around you to pull you into the haven of his chest. You gripped onto his back, digging your nails into his skin through the material of his shirt as you cried into his chest. He pressed light kisses to the top of your head, rocking you gently in his arms and shushing you quietly.

When you finally calmed down, Frank delicately held your face in his large hand, staring down into your eyes with a storm of emotions swirling in his. He opened his mouth several times to speak, his dark brows furrowing as he struggled with where to start.

“You…don’t gotta tell me anythin’ you ain’t comfortable sharin’. But…I gotta…did you…did you really think I was gonna hit you?”

The hurt in Frank’s voice only lined your eyes with fresh tears as you gripped onto his arm tightly.

“No..no Frank, I-I just…we were arguing and…you started getting loud…and when you raised your hands-I know you wouldn’t. I know that. It just…”

Frank’s jaw clenched as he stared down at you, and his eyes darkened with unbridled rage.

“Made you think ‘bout someone that hurt you before.”

There was an edge to his voice, but it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You could tell by his features that he was absolutely pissed. There was a murderous fury burning in his eyes that would’ve sent a shiver down the spine of the person brave enough to meet his gaze, and his hands shook with pure contained wrath as he held you in his arms.

But you didn’t feel afraid. Because Frank’s anger wasn’t directed at you, it was for you. 

It was such a strange and euphoric feeling, being in the presence of an angry man and not feeling fear. Knowing that those strong and capable hands of his would be used to defend you, not against you.

“It…it’s why I moved here. To get away.”

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling a sharp breath that he let out in a slow and frustrated exhale, grunting under his breath.

“Fuckin’ worthless piece of shit.”

“I…I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just…it’s hard to talk about-”

“Hey, you ain’t gotta explain yourself to me, alright? You ain’t do nothin’ wrong. You weren’t ready to tell me, that’s all. I…I appreciate you tellin’ me now. I’m sorry I made you feel that way-”

“No, no Frank, please. You didn’t. It…it was just a reaction, okay? I know you would never hurt me. I swear.”

Frank stared down into your eyes, searching them for any sign that you weren’t telling the truth. He finally let out a soft sigh, tightening his protective hold on your waist.

“Don’t s’pose you’d give me an address of where I can find this sorry fucker?”

“Frank-”

“Ain’t gonna kill him. Just think he needs his ass beat, s’all.”

You tried to fight the smirk that tugged at your lips as you arched one of your brows and gave him a pointed look. He let out a heavy exhale as he looked away and cocked his head to the side.

“Alright, that was a lie. I would fuckin’ kill him. But the world ain’t gonna miss an asshole like that. Be doin’ it a favor.”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you brought your hands up to gently cup his face in your hands.

“I…appreciate that you would do that for me. But we’re better than that.”

“Well you may be, but I sure as hell ain’t.”

“Frank.”

“Fine. I’ll leave it alone, for now. But when you ask me what I want for my birthday or Christmas, don’t be surprised if this is my answer.”

Should you be concerned that your boyfriend threatened to kill your ex on your behalf? Yes. Were you? Absolutely not. Because it was Frank.

Your Frank.

And the safest place you could ever be was with him.

[ofseaglass]

Gentle Reminders

modern AU anddd just a little thing i wrote because i wanted to post something already <33 pls be nice

One thing about Finnick Odair is that he loves to let you know how much he loves you. Whether it’s through direct words, pages of love letters or the most subtle touches in public. Such as A finger through your belt loop to keep you close or A possessive hand on your hip. However his most favourite way of making sure you're aware of his love is bold compliments out of nowhere. Even though he knows how much you can't handle it.

“I swear, if you don't look at the screen I'll turn it off. This part is important!” you scold while sitting on the couch in your shared living room, watching one of your favourite shows. But Finnick, for whatever reason, can't seem to pay attention. Despite your numerous warnings.

He has an arm loosely wrapped around your waist while he sighed and directed his attention back to the screen.

“Excuse me for wanting to admire my wife.” He says dramatically while pulling you closer by the waist. You put your legs over his thighs and continue watching your show. But you turn to see Finnick peering at you from the corner of his eyes. You sigh and glare at him.

“What? I'm watching!” he says in defence but you don't buy it. You poke him in the side and roll your eyes.

“Yeah? Tell me who the murderer is then.” You demand while looking at him with an expression laced with scepticism. He falters.

“I wanna say… Jane?” He answers with a hopeful look.

“It’s Rose, Finn.” You say with a small giggle as you throw a cushion at his face, which he throws harder at you in return. You kick him gently in the thigh with your foot and he pushes you onto your back on the couch.

“Hey! Unlike you, I'm trying to watch something.” you exclaim, still on your back but with your head turned so you can see the TV.  But when you feel Finnick positioning himself over you. You look up at him.

“What are you-” You try to say before he begins kissing your neck roughly and playfully. You kick your legs and squeal as his affectionate kisses tickle your neck.

“Stop that!” You shout while trying to push his head away from your neck. You feel his chuckles against your skin before he finally lets up and pulls away. You stare up at him with a faux-angry face as he stares down at you. Your dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks.

After about 30 seconds of him just staring at you, you cock an eyebrow and smile.

“What?” You ask, his expression more soft as he smiles sweetly, his eyes sparkling.

“You are so unbelievably, breathtaking right now.” he murmurs while tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Heat creeps up your neck and you blush deeply. This wasn’t fair. He knew his compliments left you flustered. And you never knew how to respond.

“Oh my gods, Finn-”

He smiles wider and looks at you with a pouty expression.

“No ‘thank you’?” he asks while poking your cheek.

“I love you” You say while giving him the same loving smile. You both stay there for a few moments just looking at each other. The sound of the TV running in the background while he leans down and presses a soft tender kiss to your lips.

“I'll take it.” He responds to your previous statement before sitting up and pulling you with him.

“No ‘I love you too’?” You say in a mocking tone while going back to watching the show.

Finnick puts a finger under your chin and turns your head to look him in the eyes.

“I love you too.” he says with a serious expression. He then pulls you into his lap and grabs the remote.

“Let's go back and watch the very important scenes I missed, hm? I wanna see if Raf finds out his stepmom killed his father.”

Your eyes light up and you nudge him.

“You were paying attention”

He rolls his eyes and presses play before pulling you back against his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

first thing I've posted on this account!! (i wrote this at 2 in the morning)

[anaid-queen]

just two weeks late

the list of things i love about this!!

CAN I START WITH THE COVER. look at them!! ;___;

Daniel using his press badge to get in for free.... and Armand of course, side-eyeing him XD 'so cheeky, my boy...'

"You're a comedian, beloved." MY HEART!! IS SO FULL!!

'i want to give you everything why don't you want me to give you everything' will forever be the most

(also the hand on Daniel's back ;_;)

no, he was not going to ask, noooo. (maybe he really wasn't, but he'll always worry & consider every option for his beloved twice or thrice)

"We'll leave it to someone who needs it more." ok this is absolutely a front / not the real reason, but damn Daniel, that's still generous. leave it for someone without a vampire lover to prop them up!!

the colors begin!! and the painting facts, ofc

aaand there's the Marius mention.... is it intentional that the room goes very red there? i assume it must be

Armand's faaaace. aaaahhh

love is knowing your partner's obsessive tendencies very well <33

i like learning this artist's story (good man, stand your ground, screw these rich assholes), but do i spy... an embrace? a tender close moment at the very least?? it might be small and sharing space with a lot of text, but you can't fool me!!!!

also, Daniel playfully calling Armand "babe".... Armand going still for a moment and..blushing???... and Armand grinning like a shark and declaring the game on....... a thousand kisses, right there

"Is this why you insisted taking the metro here?" oh my HEART. Daniel convincing an old vampire of new tricks, Daniel trying to stay humble, in-touch with humanity. i LOVE IT. i want to ride the metro with them ;__; (sounds weird, but sue me, i love public transportation. and them! so win-win combo for me :3)

(and can i just say.... i love that you put different random people's faces in focus at times. makes the whole space feel really alive, almost *real*. amazing no notes.)

honestly, in the first moment i didn't even clock why Armand asked Daniel if he wanted to sit down - it's lovely sitting down at an exhibition you enjoy!! especially with your love there (i imagine, at least)

"People probably think you're my disability assistant." i made. noises. i will take every bit, every SHADOW of outsider!POV that i can get, and i WILL cheer it okay!!!

gotta love healing :333

ok this isn't really a 'love' point, this is a question. what's so funny/absurd about the word "ableism"?? old men, i swear XD

are those... are those shaky hands? 🥺🥺

his daughters following his footsteps will forever have my heart

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 kiss?? or even without kiss. that's so tender i'm!!!

aaand there's the shot from the cover :3 in even prettier, with fancy background!

i should not be giggling about their expressions so much when they're fighting (even minorly), should i

"tone the lurking down a bit" as if he can, Daniel XD (as if you really mind)

blurry faces themeeee

the memory!! love the wife's and daughter's hair... and oh the SELFIE, i'm gonna cry!!!!!!

something, something about the new partner encouraging the connection to the former partner/kids. GOD.

did he cry?? 😧

Armand: options are our driver or the metro. Daniel: cab. i love them XD

i'm not gonna cry over handholding (or Fareed reference, Fareed and Daniel "ancient vamp's boytoy club" when), i am not

their faaaaces. never over how you draw angry (or cheeky) expressions <33

😳😳😳

"Mm. Elder abuse. I think I'd like that." can you develop a kink for smth you technically already liked before, asking for a friend. (that friend is very taken with this line delivery and swears she can literally hear Daniel say it)

Armand's love. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh

what do you mean meds work great Daniel, Daniel what do you mean- (rhetorical question)

Red on Maroon A 16-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand and journalist Daniel Molloy visiting the Mark Rothko retrospective in 2024 Paris. Content mentions & warnings: The comic depicts Daniel’s internalized ableism. Rothko’s suicide is acknowledged but not discussed in detail. There’s angst, talk about kink and lots of fluff. Louis is mentioned as well as Daniel’s daughters. Marius is not named but is hinted at. The comic is set up in post-Dubai-interview time and based on my knowledge about s1 of AMC’s IWTV with sprinkles of book canon. Some notes about the comic below:

As with my last comic, I am not a native English speaker, so I hope you keep that in mind when reading <3 trying my best here meow meow

The Rothko retrospective can be visited until 2nd of April of 2024 in Louis Vuitton Foundation. I visited the place in January, so the comic’s surroundings are a mix of memories and some image searches, but in no way fully accurate. Since visiting Paris next week is probably not an option for most people, the foundation has a very cool free app, where you can listen to an audio guide about Rothko and paintings in the exhibition. I mostly used their app as a source for this comic, so in case you want to learn more, go here: https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/mark-rothko

 I listened to a lot of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel -album while making this. So put it in playing in the background if you’re into that sort of thing. Link to the playlist on youtube

Since I am Finnish and I found out that one of LVF’s first exhibition had some Finnish painter’s work, ofc I had to include them… Page 14 has Schjerfbeck’s “Dancing Shoes”  and Gallen-Kallela’s “Kullervo Cursing”.

Ok finally some headcanon stuff: in my head, while writing this comic, I imagined Daniel having accepted the dark gift from Armand, but both of them wanting him to live as a human as long as possible to enjoy the benefits of a… mortal body. :’D Since, you know, vampirism is forever anyway, so why not enjoy the variety of bodily fluids, body heat, aches and weirdness of aging? While having a chronic illness is shitty, his life is not, and while his disability marginalizes him, there’s a perspective there, a person living and enjoying things, allowed to take space and feel his thoughts develop from these changes (that also affect over 6 million people around the world with Parkinson’s).

After finishing the comic I am not so sure if Daniel is going to be turned into a vampire after all. So your guesses are as good as mine, would love to hear your suggestions, hehe!

I wish we knew more about Daniel’s daughters! I just came up with something here because I wanted to draw them and wanted to see their dynamics as a family.

I have now read the Devil’s Minion part from Queen of the Damned as a separate short story and appreciate the TV show’s changes to Daniel even more. I can’t wait for S2…..

My sincerest thanks to @anaid-queen for being a test audience, my informant and such a cheerleader the past week <3<3<3

Hope you enjoy xoxo

SORRY I POSTED THE WRONG IMAGE FILES FIRST WAHHH I had to repost ;_;

[nyotaliafan-pinkmermaid]

Two hearts united as one (Part 4)

Fandom : Hetalia

Characters/pairings : Aurelian x fem!Probus (HWS Roman Emperors , even though in this story are just named after them). Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, North Italy , South Italy , Seborga, Genoa , nyo!Cyprus and nyo!Greece make guest appearances (Ancient Rome and Ancient Greece aren't married though nor they are related to eachother and the antagonist is actually an unnamed human OC).

Genres : Romance , Emotional, Modern AU

Rating: K+

Warnings : mentions of abuse(even though I won't make it too edgy) , nudity (nothing is explicit and nothing sexual happens between the main couple), parental loss , plus the bathing scene may make some people burst into tears so it will be better to have some tissues with you.

Word count: 6708

(Note : in case you don't like it , don't make any hateful or bashing comments or even message me, expressing hate. Instead feel free to get out).

It had been already two months since the young couple met and fell in love with eachother. Their relationship was genuinely a healthy one.

While other women in her age wanted to be the wives of wealthy men, she didn't care about riches and luxury. The man she fell for, didn't have lots of money but he knew how to treat her like an actual human being and give her the love she deserved and without asking for a reward.

At the same time , the rich man arrived at the mansion and when he found out that the young lady was nowhere to be seen, he got extremely furious and went to search for her by himself.

Meanwhile the young couple was outside and enjoyed the scenery around them with a smile on their faces.

But when the rich man saw Aurelian and Probus being so loving and tender with eachother, he felt disgusted and angry at the same time. He wanted to do something to separate them.

He grabbed Probus' hand violently and threatened her by saying this :

"So this is what you did during these two months that I was away. Lazying around. But I'll fix it. I demand that you will marry me and give birth to my sons. And if you give birth to daughters I will kill you. And you should always do whatever I'll tell you"

When he saw his girlfriend being humiliated in front of him, Aurelian knew that he couldn't sit and watch without doing nothing. He got angry and said to the much older man:

"Leave Probus alone, you creep. I won't let you have her and use her for your evil purposes, thus making her life even more miserable".

Then Probus looked her former boss directly in the eyes and told him with a brave tone on her voice:

"I will never be the wife of such an evil and cruel monster like you. Now I have Aurelian by my side who treats me with kindness and like an actual human being. He truly loves me. "

Now the evil rich man had no other feelings inside him besides severe anger.

"How dare you to ignore me you brat? Tommorow morning, I will beat your beloved one in a duel. And if you dare to intervene , there will be some very serious consequences".

For a very brief moment the man looked Aurelian on the eyes and said:

"Let's fight. One versus one. And no matter how you will respond , there won't be other winner besides me. And of course the woman here will be my prize".

The young boy responded to the man with such bravery and courage :

"Don't even call me a coward. I will fight you, not because I want to win this lovely lady as a prize. I won't let your crazy plans to be fulfilled"

Those words left Probus speechless at that moment. She had a strange feeling inside her that combined both happiness and sadness at the same time.

She was thankful that the man she loved fought for their love, but she was also afraid that he would might die. And the second was something that she didn't want to happen.

The couple went home so they would prepare for the duel the next morning.

All these made Probus wanting to talk to Aurelian. She couldn't keep it to herself.

"I am so glad that you are willing to protect me. But i'm scared for you too. You know what will happen if he wins, I'll be the wife of someone who will treat me with cruelty".

"There's no need to worry. I may be a common soldier but no matter how strong the enemy is , there's no excuse for backing down".

These words filled the lady's heart with courage and when it got dark they went to sleep. Tomorrow a long day awaited for them.

The day for the duel that would decide Probus' fate, finally came.

Would she be by Aurelian's side , while enjoying her freedom or would she marry her abusive boss and lose everything she has?

She looked at a box that she never opened, despite of taking it with her when she ecaped her golden cage. She soon noticed that there was a message on it.

Without wasting time she took the paper and started reading it:

[To our dear daughter. This is a gift, especially for you. But remember, you can only open it when something serious happens. Stay strong, we love you.

Your parents]

By the time she opened the box, her heart was beating faster than before. Until she saw what was actually inside there.

Inside the box was a long rosewater pink dress that looked like those worn from princesses. The same dress was sleeveless and bordered with a blue fringe at the edge of the bodice, and includes two separate cuffs worn similarly to bracelets, albeit with military shoulder tassels. It would also be accompanied with a golden spiked tiara like accessory and a pair of sandals.

She wore the dress and surprisingly it fitted her perfectly plus it made her feel like a princess and a warrior at the same time. Her father taught her how to fight and defend herself and she still remembered these lessons by heart.

By the time she arrived in the area of the duel , she saw her former master looking at her with such a lustful and creepy look on his eyes.

"Oh hello there my future wife and mother of my sons. Are you ready to see me beat that trashy soldier? Oh wait, he run away because he is too scared to fight me. And unlike him , I have both looks and money"

Those words filled Probus with such disgust and anger:

"You think that you can win only because you are rich and good looking. And two more things, first I will never be yours and second stop insulting the love of my life. He knows how to fight and he doesn't see me as a trophy".

Few minutes later a male voice was heard:

"If you are looking for me, I'm right here".

The moment Probus saw Aurelian coming she ran towards him with such an happy yet agonizing expression on her face.

"Finally you made it. I don't want anything bad to happen to you.Good luck facing your opponent".

"I am here for you. I promise to protect you with everything i have. The only thing you have to do now, is to be strong not for me but for yourself".

She went and stood outside the arena and without saying any word the two men started the battle.

The wealthy man ran toward Aurelian's direction and as he defended himself against him as he fought that man back.

It was obvious that the two men fought for different purposes. And their goals were exactly opposite to eachother. The evil wealthy man saw the young woman as a trophy to be won.

Aurelian didn't care about winning any prize. He fought because he loved Probus with all of his heart and he believed in his duty as a soldier.

He wouldn't allow himself to lose from a narcissist and megalomaniac person.

The duel continued for a long time and it seemed that none of the rivals seemed to give up, no matter how difficult it would be.

Suddenly the older man's expression became scary and he told with an obssesive tone on his voice:

"There's no other winner besides me. This woman there is my possession".

Upon hearing those insulting words the young man couldn't tolerate it and said to his opponent :

"You said possession? You treat a woman like a trophy , while ignoring how she truly feels? Tell me".

Those were the young boy's words towards his opponent and "clang" sound was heard as he put his sword to his rivals.

The older male tried to make the younger one lose his sword and fall to the ground. And the next step was to get rid of him.

Seeing this in front of her eyes, Probus couldn't stand there without doing anything. She wanted to defend Aurelian , the same way he defended her. And without second thought she jumped between the two opponents.

Noticing this, the former wealthy master started yelling at the young lady.

"What are you doing here brat? You dare to intervene? Did you forgot what I told you before"?

"I am not afraid of any consequences. I only want to help my beloved against you. I won't allow you to kill him".

This small but brave speech gave the boy more encouragement and he continued fighting.

The girl nodded at him and she went outside the arena again.

It seemed that the duel was about to end. The young man used his skills against his opponent, while observing every single of his moves carefully.

Finally the battle ended and Aurelian was the winner. And of course he didn't need to use any trick to win, but only what he was taught during his training back when he was learning how to be a soldier.

At the same time , Probus ran towards Aurelian who had his arms opened, calling her for a hug. She immediately went near him, put her arms around his waist and hugged him, while he was hugging her back. He was wounded , but he didn't mind it at all.

"I knew it that the victory would be yours. Thank you so much".

"You are welcome. You always believe in me, so i will do the same for you".

The best thing was that he allowed to use that dress of hers as a military uniform and fight by his side not as a superior nor as an inferior, but as an equal. Like she really deserved.

The lady's former evil boss looked at the couple and couldn't believe that he lost.

The lady came towards him and said the following:

"All this time you tried to make me look weak and helpless, by torturing me without mercy. But I'm still here and now I realise that the truly weak one here is you. From now on, you will live in the world you created for yourself only in your mind. You are nothing more than just a shadow of my past, which I shall forget . Goodbye forever".

After telling this ,the woman didn't look back and took her beloved's hand , while both returned to their home to rest and prepare for the trial that would give her former torturing master a taste of his own medicine and thousand times bitter.

They both smiled at eachother knowing that love will always win in the end.

To be continued...

[kiatheinsomniac]

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day seventeen: knife play - Fëanor

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut, NSFW content, MDNI, knife play, slight blood play, object insertion

The fire of the forge licked at your face while another fire kindled deep in your abdomen as you watched your husband’s back. You were perched on the workbench behind him, simply observing him as he worked after having wanted his company, even while he was still occupied with work. You couldn’t help but adore whatever material his shirt was made of: so thin, almost sheer, sticking to his skin in places with a light sweat and hugging the muscles across his perfect skin. 

Fëanor was an ellon unlike any other in mind, skill and appearance. He was built like one of the great two trees, towering above those around him and standing with the pride of knowing how admired he is. 

“Yes, it’s quite lovely, darling.” You replied when he turned to begin showing off to you what he had made, some sort of blade but you weren’t paying attention to that: your eyes were fixed on the way his hand curled around the handle, how his fingers glided so carefully across the sharpened edge. His hands were strong, accented by gentle callouses from all his time in the forges – a mighty hard thing to achieve for an elf – and he typically wore rings in the day but he had removed them for the purpose of not damaging them as he worked. 

“Is that really all you have to say?” The change in his tone dragged your lusty attention away from his body at last to meet eyes of flint, so ready to spark a fire, his jaw set tight in anger. “Have you even been listening?” 

“Of course I-” 

“Don’t lie to me.” Whatever you had tuned out in favour of taking in his physical form for must have been quite important to provoke such a reaction from him. Your husband was an angry ellon by nature, this much you knew, but many underestimated the capacity of said anger and he was actually very good at concealing his feelings, especially regarding minor affairs. “Your eyes don’t seem to be meeting what I show you. Perhaps you need a closer look?” His voice took a darker turn and you soon found yourself unable to get down from the workbench you were perched on when your husband came to stand between your legs. 

Your breath hitched when he leaned down over you and pressed the tip of the blade to your cheek, gently grazing it across your nose as though this were merely a tender caress while paying attention to not break your delicate skin. “How’s this? Do you see better now, melda?” His tone had a base of mockery to it and you would have nodded your head if not for the fear of accidentally earning a cut. 

“Your craftsmanship truly is unmatched, my love.” You replied, “I know of none other who could put such intricate detailing into the negative space of a blade.” You commented, a part of you hoping to satisfy his mood and another hoping to stir something else in him with the way you slowly spread your thighs apart further. 

“Oh, so you like this?” A part of you knew he was no longer talking about the blade in his hand. The knife came to dance against your throat as he leaned down over you more, daring you to lay down and submit or to stay upright and see how long you could hold out for before you caved in. Very carefully, you nodded your reply, eyes darting between his to try and anticipate what he might do next. “Well, I think that you should try and better express your appreciation, don’t you agree?” He mused. Once more you nodded and longed to lean forwards and close the distance between you two but the knife at your throat was as controlling as the familiar hand in your hair when he would kiss you: making all the decisions for you in just the way you craved, holding you still and controlling your kisses, your movements, everything. “Awe,” He cooed mockingly, “do you want me to kiss you?” 

“Yes please.” Your voice came out quietly, eyes already darkened with lust and so beautiful to your husband with the light of the forge behind him reflected in them. 

“Say it again.” He leaned in closer, breath fanning over your lips but his mouth just out of reach. 

“Please? Please can you kiss me?” That made him smile – or perhaps he smirked? – before closing that last slither of distance between you, his other hand coming up to grab the nape of your neck and hold you still as your lips collided, the blade at your throat pressing down just slightly. His hand was there to steady you, the warm metal to remind you of the situation you were in. Once he was certain you would keep the threat of his new knife in mind, his other hand rested on your shoulder for a moment before sliding down your front, pausing to cup your breast, making him groan against your mouth while you breathed out airily at the feeling. 

You carefully leaned up to cup his face in your hands, fingers dipping into his dark hairline where his ponytail was coming loose and some strands were slack enough for you to slip your fingers into that midnight silk and lightly tug. His hand slid further down to trace the curve of your waist before landing on your hip and squeezing firmly, beginning to caress the softness of your thighs with the fabric of your dress between your skin and his touch. 

After he seemed to grow frustrated with being unable to feel your skin beneath his fingers, he pulled away from what had been such a messy and passionate kiss, the tip of the knife coming up to tap twice against your kiss-swollen lips, just daring you to pout at him having pulled away from you. 

“Are you so desperate for my touch that you’d let me hold a knife to your pretty throat if it means being kissed by me?” The blade was still against your lips, rendering you unable to nod or reply. You simply gazed into his eyes, trying to pour your emotions out through them so that he could see that you had not meant to offend him, only that you had been so caught up in admiring him. “Such a needy little thing… You’d let me do whatever I like to you, wouldn’t you? You don’t care about the threat…” His last phrase was emphasised by a sting against your bottom lip, the knife being removed so that he could kiss you once more, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and soothing it with a lick before he pulled away. You could taste your blood and see it tinting your husband’s lips as his eyes raked down your body. 

You gasped when he roughly bunched the shoulder of your dress in his hand and pulled it towards him moment before sinking the blade into your neckline and dragging it downwards with a loud tear. Your dress fell to shreds around you as he sliced through your sleeves, tearing all the way through your skirt and leaving you in just your panties, sitting in the middle of what had once been your dress. You knew that it could be replaced though and knew that he was well aware that this was not one of your favourites. Your husband spoiled you and you knew that he would insist on replacing the dress himself. 

Your thighs felt stiffened while your back arched up when Fëanor tapped the blade against your clothed clit, such a dangerous object against such a sensitive area and it had your heart hammering in your chest. With lidded eyes, he watched as he slowly raised the blade upwards to carefully prod at your nipples, watching as they hardened with arousal. With a groan, he set the knife aside to help lay you down as his lips came to your chest, kissing across the tops of your breasts, sucking marks beneath them and revelling in all your little gasps and moans, how your legs had come up to circle around his waist, begging for him closer. He knew just how badly you wanted to be stretched around his thick cock but seeing you get turned on by the threat of a knife in his hand, a knife he had created, had piqued his interest and now he was more than willing to be patient. 

He gave your breasts equal attention with his mouth but the knife had yet to leave his hand, meaning that one of your breasts was always abandoned for attention as his free hand was being used to keep him propped up over you. You had tried to reach your hand up to stimulate yourself, only to have it swatted away by your lover, earning a whine from you and yet you made no other protest. Fëanor kissed his way down to your belly before standing up to tower over you, looking at your hair splayed about you on the workbench, your ruined dress, your hardened nipples, slick with his saliva and the way your back was arched to accentuate how your breasts were rising and falling with each panted breath. 

The knife dipped into the front of your panties and he pulled upwards, making a slight tear before repeating that process again and again, slowly, his eyes meeting yours as you froze, afraid of having such a sharp blade near somewhere so intimate. Eventually, they were cut from your legs and you watched with bated breath as the fingers of his free hand slid through your slit, pushing your wetness upwards to smear it over your clit and begin tracing precise circles, adoring all the little moans it pulled from you, watching how you would squirm. 

“You’ll have to stay still.” Your eyes opened to meet his at his words and you watched as the knife was twirled in his hand so that the blade now faced towards his body instead of your own. Your squirming did, indeed, stop entirely when the hilt of the knife ran through your wet folds and prodded at your entrance. 

“F-Fëanor…?” Your voice wavered and he merely shushed you, his fingers leaving your clit so that he could spread your legs wider, pressing your thigh down against the workbench as you hesitantly raised your head to look down at the knife pressing against your cunt. 

“Don’t squirm too much and this will feel no different to my fingers, melda, I’m sure.” There was a sadistic tone to his voice and a part of you wondered if you could come from having the handle of a knife inside of you; would the fear make such a thing impossible or would it only cause an early end? You couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp when he finally pushed inside of your waiting walls, your arousal more than enough to allow it to slip inside. Your legs jerked slightly and your husband merely tutted as he kept them spread apart enough with his hand so that you didn’t try to close your legs and cut your thighs in the process. “Stay still, little girl.” You could hardly pry your eyes away from watching as he sank the blade’s handle deeper into your pussy. The blade glinted in the light of the forge and you bit down on your lip to stifle a moan. Soon enough, you found your pleasure outweighing your fear as Fëanor picked up the pace, the crackling of the nearby fire being joined by the squelching sounds of you being fucked with a knife’s handle. Your husband could feel the increased resistance as the walls of your little cunt tightened around the weapon and his other hand finally, finally came up to caress your clit, making you come all over the warm metal. 

He helped to ride you through your orgasm before withdrawing the blade, gently dragging it up your sternum and holding the slippery handle with both hands as he poised the blade over your heart, leaving enough room for your panting breaths. Your mind was torn away from its post-orgasmic haze at the sight. Your mind knew that you shouldn’t ever allow someone to put you in such a vulnerable position and yet your heart trusted him entirely. Fëanor only groaned at how you made no move to stop him, how you trusted him with your life to put you in such a vulnerable and submissive position. 

“Oh, my love, I have a long night planned for you…” 

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee? ✧⋆.・゜Want to be tagged?

🏷️@clumsycopy @edensrose @augustwithquills @involuntaryspasms @wolfwarrior06 @eunoiaastralwings @welcometomordor @spidergirla5 

[peachycoreroo]

i was thinking, what about boys from haikyuu losing game and taking their anger on their s/o in bed to the point s/o is saying safe word, crying? if that's too much, just make them really angry, hurting s/o with words.

i was thinking about Suna, Kita and maybe Shirabu?

characters: suna rintarou, kita shinsuke, shirabu kenjirou

genre: smut, slight angst, fluff at the end

word count: 1.8k

warnings: fem!reader, angry boys, established relationships, spanking, one (1) face slap, choking, vaginal penetration, oral m!receiving, usage of ‘whore’, ‘bitch’ and ‘slut’, heavy degradation, semi-public sex, pretty harsh words are said, safe word is used

authors note: uuu this is my first darker piece for hq, but it does end in fluff!! i tweaked it so it fits the timeskip, but just a friendly reminder that this is pure fiction, your favs love you and would never hurt you<3 here's a link to my masterlist

pt.2: kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru, tsukishima kei

suna rintarou:

it wasn’t often that your boyfriend resorted to pounding the living shit out of you immediately when you had sex, usually opting for teasing you till you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to fuck you or took the reins in your own hands and rode him till you were both shaking from overstimulation.

this time, was bad though.

the japanese national volleyball team just lost the finale of the olympics, resulting in them only getting the silver medal. no matter how amazing the second-place sounded, it still hit hard to miss the big gold by a hair.

just like how hard suna was currently hitting your ass, as he fucked into you in the empty changing room of the team. you only wanted to check on him when you saw how dejected he looked as he left the field with the team, when the tall brunet just ripped down your clothes and bent you over, fury dancing in his greenish eyes.

you knew how hard rintarou and his teammates worked for this. it was only natural they couldn’t celebrate. losing is still losing, no matter if you’re getting a medal.

“f-fuck, rin, it hurts”, you wailed, tears already streaming down your face from the full-force slaps that were delivered to your sore ass cheeks. being bent over with only the locker in front of you and sunas’ hands on your hips as a leverage to not fall face first on the floor, slowly took a troll on your tired body. it also didn’t help that your legs were barely able to keep you up with how powerful his thrusts were.

“shut the fuck up and take it, worthless whore”, he growled furiously, thrusts only increasing in speed, and a hand sneaking to your front, wrapping itself around your neck. the cruel comments that usually caused your cunt to flutter and eyes roll back, suddenly made your heart sink.

you knew he was angry at being defeated by the opposing team and not at you, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest, or the tears that seemed to multiply at his cold remark.

when the adjustment of his hips caused him to hammer his fat tip painfully against your cervix and his hand tightened harshly around your throat, your knees gave out and you tried to scream only for nothing to come out of your mouth.

“useless, fucking bitch, can’t even stand upright. why do i even keep you around?” he aggressively huffed, not paying any attention to your comfort. you couldn’t take this anymore.

your body went completely limp, as you whispered a small, choked ‘silk’, not even being sure if he heard, when his mind was so clouded by rage.

but he did. and his heart painfully clenched when he recognized the hurt tone in your voice, instantly letting go of your bruised throat and ceasing his thrusts.

guilt filled him as he pulled out and finally looked at you to see you sobbing uncontrollably, arms wrapping protectively around your form as if you were afraid of him hurting you.

“hey… hey, y/n, sweetie, look at me.” suna’s gentle tone had you looking up at him, your vision blurry as your pained expression met his tender one.

“’m s-sorry i couldn’t help you, r-rin’. ‘m sorry y-you lost”, you stuttered out helplessly.

here you were, crying and in pain, but still thinking about him. the brunet was sure he didn’t deserve you.

“no, i’m sorry, pretty. i got carried away”, the tall volleyball player whispered softly, his large palms cupping your cheeks, “i love you and i never want to hurt you. please, forgive me.”

the guilt etched into his handsome face showed you just how bad he really felt, your lips lifting in a small smile. “’s ok, rin’. i love you too.”

the tall male breathed out a sigh of relief as he embraced you tightly and kissed your forehead. suna rintarou would never get carried away like this again. that, he promised himself.

kita shinsuke:

when kita got home, all dejected and upset because some assholes decided to trash grandma yumie’s precious crops in the darkness of the night, you opened your arms with love and understanding. what you didn’t expect however, as you asked how you could help, was to end up on your knees with your boyfriend abusing your throat for what felt like hours.

your knees were aching from the uncomfortable position on the hardwood floor, throat painfully contracting around his thick length as he pounded your mouth as if it were your cunt, jaw hurting from holding it open for so long.

you felt like you would pass out any minute, and while normally kita would immediately sense any of your slightest mood shifts when you were being intimate, he didn’t this time.

where there was usually a caring boyfriend who wouldn’t take his gaze of your face and always asked if you’re doing okay, was a guy who had a far away look on his frowning face, only using you as an outlet for his anger.

the white-black haired male was almost scarily quiet, only occasional grunts and growls escaping his lips. your gurgling and gagging sounds as he hit the back of your throat with every forceful thrust were painful to listen to, and you couldn’t wrap your head around your boyfriend not realizing what he was doing to you.

as tears streamed down your numb face, you weren’t able to stop your teeth from grazing his fat cock, your throbbing jaw not cooperating with your brain anymore.

kita let out an animalistic growl as he pulled out of your wet mouth at once, a sudden slap to your tender cheek startling you.

“you asked how to help and you’re doing exactly that, but can’t even do that for me, huh?”, he spat almost hostilely.

the hurtful words, the harsh slap and the rage painted on his usually calm and kind face made your heart ache, as you sobbed out a ‘peach! shin’, please! peach!’

kita suddenly felt as if he awoke from a hypnosis, when he heard you cry out your safe word. as his -now clear- gaze fell on you, he couldn’t help his chest from painfully tightening. you only offered to help, and he’s gone and hurt you like never before.

falling on his knees in front of you, he pulled you into his strong arms, rocking you both side to side as he apologetically murmured ‘i’m so sorry, angel’ and ‘i love you’ over and over again into your messy hair.

“m’ okay, shinsuke. just wanted to help", you sniffled against his chest, making kita close his eyes out of pure shame that he did that to you.

“let’s get you into the bathtub and i’ll cook your favorite, how does that sound love?”, he whispered softly, as if afraid that any of his next movements would make you break.

the next few weeks you barely got to do anything, kita shinsuke always glued to your side and immediately taking over any task that was thrown at you.

shirabu kenjirou:

being a med student was fucking exhausting. shirabu had spent months writing a very important thesis about certain brain tumors on newborns, only for his professor to give him a c. something about it not being detailed enough.

“fuck you”, shirabu spat as he was sitting in front of the fire place in your shared apartment, throwing all 80 pages of the “not detailed” dissertation into the fire.

“ken’? what are you doing?”

“burning this fucking nightmare. ’m gonna drop out, fuck this shit”, he almost growled furiously. coming up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, leaning down to ask lowly: “you want a better way to deal with your anger?”

that’s how you found yourself bent over his lap with your panties dangling at your ankles. the spanking wasn’t new, your boyfriend being super pissed while doing so, was.

the first few slaps went as usual with you clenching around nothing and enjoying the rubs to the tender flesh shirabu hit a few seconds prior. after, it suddenly went downhill.

all at once, the soft caresses ceased to a stop, his calloused palm from years of playing volleyball coming down on your ass with full force and the copper-haired man spewing some of the most degrading stuff you’ve ever heard.

“fucking slut, getting off to this. you like it when i use you to let out my anger? i’m having a hard time while you’re just being a horny, selfish fucktoy”.

at the last sentence, you froze. did he really think you were using him? you only wanted to help, but his cold words continued. “gonna beat your ass till it’s sore and aching, you won’t be able to sit without remembering what a useless fucking girlfriend you were while i needed support.”

the logical part of your brain knew, that your boyfriend didn’t mean it. the anger got the best of him, and he just threw around accusations like he wished he could do at his asshole of a prof.

but the bigger, sensitive part of your brain convinced you that he meant every single hurtful word. you weren’t even hearing what derogatory stuff was spilling from his lips anymore, vision blurry and ears ringing from the pain you felt in your chest as well as your ass cheeks.

was this your fault? was it wrong to try and help? maybe you should’ve given him some space.

a particularly hard spank brought you back to reality, suddenly tasting the salty wetness of your tears seeping into your mouth as you cried out a loud ‘pumpkin!”, trying to push yourself out of his lap and landing on the floor with a loud ‘thud’ as his hands instantly let you go.

shirabu could only look at you wide-eyed when he saw how you were choking on your sobs and crawling backwards, just to get away from him.

“please don’t hit me anymore!”, were the words, that would haunt kenjirou for the rest of his life. he could feel himself tear up when it hit him what he did to you, his precious girlfriend, just because he was angry at a prof.

“baby, i- please i would never hit you like that on purpose, i- “, the male felt his throat tighten up and with a quiet sniffle he embraced you tightly, craving the warmth of your body. “forgive me, i love you so much, please don’t go.”

as you started to calm down, your arms wrapped themselves around him, wanting to be close to him as well, because no matter what, he was your biggest comfort and you still loved him.

“’m not going anywhere, kenji’. just… please don’t do that ever again”, you murmured against his temple.

“never.”

[aamaranthiine]

Being with him caused her pain. That was an agonizing truth she could not deny but it wasnt the whole truth. It wasnt always a bad hurt; her heart twisting itself into knots that made her tremble with euphoria for the fondness she had for him. A stillness settles over her again at his claim; finding a way to spend eternity with her? She stopped breathing for a second. Suspended in some unknowable emotion that strangled the very air from her lungs. And then: "No." The rejection is muted but firm, tilting her face away so as not to look at him directly.

"Don't say such things," Amalthea continues on, her tone indecipherable, "immortality is a curse and I would not wish it upon my enemies, least of all you, who I am enamored with." Another fleeting admission of her feelings for him, wrapped in the complexity of despair for the mere thought of Mihawk being as trapped as she is. "We are not meant to live forever, tiercel. It would drive you insane, as it does to me." The tenderness in her words returns, a sign she was not entirely angry with his suggestion. Vexed, perhaps and fearful for his wellbeing were it to be made reality.

Suffering the grief that comes from lost love is what kept her human, though she tried to minimize such attachments, there are still yet people who eventually wheedle their way into her grace. She may face the eventual loss of Mihawk but that only made her want to savor every moment she had until then. The suffering walked hand in hand with elation. Thea looked down at him again finally, her serene expression restored, "I doubt you are as good at avoiding people as I am," her reply is candid and she leans down closer to his face, "but yes, you may come with me. I had already decided that when I found you here."

It had been her intentions from the start, with the statement punctuated by Thea closing the remaining distance to kiss him sweetly.

For a few moments, as she stopped her ministrations, the swordsman wondered whether he had said or done something wrong. The first thing that came to mind was that her likely overstepped when he so deliberately laid his head in her lap without asking her if she was comfortable with it, though the very same thought soon got chased away once spotting the rather melancholic look on her face. He lay there, quiet, listening carefully to her and trying to make sense of her words, only to find himself in a battle between heart and mind, between emotion and logic, one outweighing the other by miles, and this time, he let his emotions guide him.

❝ See? That is something I will take blame for, happily so, ❞ Mihawk replied, hand moving up to gently place his hand over hers. ❝ Being with me causes you pain. Being with me will leave you in pain, too. I'm only mortal, and--, ❞ he paused, not wanting to finish the sentence. Oh, what he wouldn't do to ease her pain regarding it for at least a little, find a way to stay alive longer, maybe even for forever. ❝ I'd search the whole world and turn it upside down to find a way to be with you for eternity. ❞ For now, however, it was nothing but wishful thinking.

Mihawk understood her feelings all too well. Every moment spent apart from her saw him worried and on edge, uncertain whether or not she was okay. He never once doubted Amalthea's abilities to fend for herself, though that didn't mean he didn't want to make sure personally she was safe.

❝ All the more reason to stay together. If you don't mind company, that is. I promise I'm good at avoiding people. ❞ The words were accompanied with a small smile, hoping to ease Thea at least a little bit.

[brightburner]

Oh look I’ve started another wip for SHOH without finishing any of my other ones djsjxjsjs— the lead up to this is a sweet scene with MC and ex-sweetheart Red. They share a little moment and he kissed her forehead, very familial and stuff and unfortunately Chase was on his way to visit her and saw ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) (what can I say? I love jealous Chase)

Snippet below!

—-

“Had a productive evening?” Chase asked, his voice low but the usual warm seductive tone nowhere to be found.

His usual half-lidded and languid look was ruined otherwise by the intense sharpness in his expression. That tension holding together what was meant to be a carefree and calm demeanor as he lounged on the edge of her windowsill.

He was trying to slow his breathing– trying and failing. Each attempt at an even breath hitched faintly in his chest and she had a sudden thought that if she were to touch his skin she’d feel his pulse hammering beneath the surface.

“How long have you been waiting?”

A twitch. A furrow in his brow. A crack in the mask.

She had her answer.

“Ask me again then.”

Chase’s breathing stopped.

“Go on. Ask.”

The taunt in her voice was enough to make him breathe out again, sharp and incredulous– indignant. He was angry. Good. She was getting angry too. Of course he wouldn’t ask. Of course he wouldn’t. He had asked twice before and she had answered and some part of Chase, despite how he was acting now, knew that. So then why?

“There is nothing going on between me and Red,” she answers the unasked question instead, “Nothing like that.”

“Uh huh, and would that be a full of shit statement?” Chase bit back, his eyes darted from her face in either an attempt not to see a lie there or worse– the truth.

Why?

“I love him,” she said simply and tried to ignore the way her heart ached when Chase flinched like she had stabbed him. He looked at her then, eyes owlish and his practiced expression half teetered on the edge of an agony she wasn’t even sure he knew he felt.

“The way I love the memory of my family. Of a childhood I barely… he’s my brother. I do love him, but it’s different then–”

Then what I feel for you.

The words go unsaid. Too tender, too near to the bigger feeling that has begun to swell within her chest. She feels helpless. Even now it would seem her words wield the strength to destroy and so she holds them back and watches as Chase scours her face for a lie.

[rezzyromance]

Could I request Heisenberg with a female s/o who's negatively pent up from anxiety and depression and feeling like they're not good enough for Karl but they always put on a brave face to not look weak? They just want to make him happy and proud maybe maybe when they're either fucking or just working, maybe he says an offhand comment that hits home, idk being called useless is a good one to feel like being stabbed. They love him but they've been hiding all their mental struggles and bottling it up be a use they always focused on him first? Mental health feels neglected rn and could use the hurt/comfort if you're okay with this! Up to you if you want to add smut or not, with or without is great

Of course, baby. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the story. (CW: Hurt/Comfort, mentions of anxiety and depression. Sexual scenarios: Fingering, face riding, praising, general NSFW)

Living with Karl is a task that can be mentally taxing on anyone. For you, this wasn't an exception. There was no doubt in your mind that you loved him, but that dragged along a few issues with it. You loved him so much, that you constantly felt an unbearable pressure that pushed you to attempt to impress him out of fear that he may view you as inferior to him. Karl is without a doubt strong, insanely intelligent, passionate, and all around tremendously powerful. Often times you wondered why he even keeps you around.

You had grown very close with him over time. He never put a real title on your relationship, but you both knew that he loved you. He loved you enough to let you help out on his work. He assigned little tasks for you to do such as organizing his blueprints, creating blueprints, and organizing his tools. Each time you did something, he would reward you with praise. Sometimes the praise would be heart to heart while other times it may be skin to skin. While the praise he provided felt rewarding, you began to worry what may happen if your work wasn't good enough. What if you weren't good enough? What if he stopped finding you useful or attractive? These troubling thoughts had been torturing you recently. But, you kept it all bottled up, worried that he may view you as weak if he knew you were so afraid of failure. Whenever you would work on something, you would sit there for hours on end. Nothing could stop you until you were finished. You did this as a way to imitate Karl and his tireless work. Though, Karl does have powers that help keep his body from shutting down the way yours does. That didn't stop you from constantly pushing yourself overboard, though.

A knot grew larger and larger in your throat as you attempted to sketch out a new blueprint, slouching while sitting on your bed. He had asked you to work on it that morning and it was nearly midnight now. The lines were uneven, your hand writing was messy, and it was easy to see where you had erased and redrawn a lot of little details all over the paper. A single tear fell from your eye and onto the paper, causing a wet spot where the ink began to smear. You ignore your body and minds cry for help by quickly wiping your eyes and acting as if it didn't happen. Your hands were shaking as you applied more details, not being close to finish. Your eyes were twitching, fed up with staring down so harshly at the paper for so long. Suddenly, the door to the room opens.

You jump and face the door, realizing how cramped your neck was from your poor posture. Karl entered the room, obviously tired from a long days work. His eyes looked heavy and he was running his hands through his hair. "Still working on that blueprint, buttercup?", he asks as he walks towards you. You look back at the paper and realize how low quality it was, along with unfinished. You quickly hold the paper to your chest, attempting to block it from him. 'Um it's almost finished I swear! I just n-need to add a few more little details.", you assure him. He holds his hand out. "Let me see.", he raises an eyebrow and begins to wiggle his fingers. You attempt to swallow the knot in your throat as you shakily hand it over.

Your hands clutch each other tightly, digging what's left of your bitten nails into your skin. His eyes scan each inch of the paper and his eyebrows begin to furrow. "What.. is this?", he looks over to you. "What?", you're voice is shaky and cracking, but you attempt to cover it up by clearing your throat. "(Y/N)... you've been in here all day and THIS is all you could do? What have you been doing all day?", his voice began to grow into a semi-shout. It felt like thunder as it shook your body. You take a deep breath, attempting to toughen up to his words. "I really did try! I did exactly what you told me an-" he cuts you off before you can finish. "Really? You did exactly as I told you?! You said you could have this done by tonight and i trusted your judgement. But (Y/N) this shit is useless!"

He continues to fuss, but it was all silent to you. All you could hear was the echo of his voice saying that word. "Useless." The one thing you feared of becoming. The one thing you feared of creating. Your balled fists begin to shake. Your lip begins to quiver and your eyes grow cloudy.

"I'M SORRY!", you cry out before looking down at the floor, failing to control your tears as they fell to the floor. Suddenly, your eyes began to flood. Your stomach and heart felt like they were twisting and turning with guilt. He froze, unsure of how to handle this sudden outburst. "Was I too harsh?", he thought. "I'VE TRIED SO HARD TO BE GOOD ENOUGH. GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! I'VE TRIED TO PERFECT YOUR WORK. I'VE TRIED TO LOOK MY BEST EVERY DAY! FOR YOU! I'VE DONE EVERYTHING YOU'VE TOLD ME TO!", your whole body shakes as you break down. "I never told you that you had to do any of that! What the hell have you been pushing yourself so hard for?", his tone was still stern, but he wasn't angry. He was very concerned, but had no idea how to express it. "I WANTED TO MAKE YOU PROUD!", you continue to cry.

The room was silent other than your quiet sobbing. He didn't know what to say. He had no clue that you had put so much pressure on yourself to impress him. He had no idea on why it mattered so much to you. And in that moment, something in him began to ache. He remembered being like that once. So dead set on making others proud of him no matter what it took. He had no clue what to say due to no one ever being there for him in his time of struggle, so instead he goes for a more physical approach.

He grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his body, holding you close. You bury your face in his chest to try and muffle your cries. He runs his hand through your hair, still confused as to why you pushed yourself so hard for him. "I just..", you sniffle. "I just wanted to be good enough.. for you...", you say as you try to stop crying. He lifted you up, carrying you bridal style to the bed. He crawled up and sat his back against a pillow, continuing to hold you close as you buried your face in his neck.

"Look at me.", he held your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger and waited for you to face him. You sniffle and pull your head up to meet him eye to eye. There was a new look in his eyes. Something unfamiliar to the both of you. Tenderness. "You are good enough. And I am so proud of you. Everyday you make me proud. Every time I look at you I'm proud.", he begins to wipe the tears from your face, struggling to find the right words to say. "Look. You don't need to overwork yourself. The fact that you stick around with me to begin with is enough for me." A small smile begins to grow on your face. The sight warms him and helps reassure him that he didn't say anything dumb.

Once you've seemed to calm down, he pulls you in for a kiss. It was warmer than usual. Softer than usual. And Karl isn't a man known for being soft or gentle. But this kiss was far from rough, but just as passionate. It was reassuring and safe. He pulls away and smiles at the sight of your now blushing face. "There's my pretty girl. Now, if you feel like it... since we're already on the bed.. I think I know a thing or two you can do if you still wanna feel useful.", he offers with a sly grin. You giggle and begin to straddle his lap. "Sounds good to me." you say as his hands start to wander around your hips.

"But, we're gonna be doing something different.", he says as his eyes scan every inch of your body. "What's that?", you go to unbuckle his belt but he grabs your wrist before you can continue. "Tonight's all about you. I wanna make you feel good.", he says. During every sexual situation you've had, you had focused on pleasing him first, not thinking about yourself and your own wants and desires. You don't object, so he moves his hands back to your hips and pulls you off of his body, effortlessly tossing you onto your back on the bed.

He then pins himself above you, towering over you. Your heart races at the new experience and your face glows more and more pink. His eyes meet yours and the sight alone is enough to start making your panties grow wet. He lowers his face down to your neck where he begins to place little kisses. Chills run through your body like ocean waves and you let out a quiet gasp as a kiss turns into a nibble. A hickey begins to form and he lets go, moving his mouth to your ear. "I want you to tell me what you want, buttercup." he whispers in your ear as one of his hands begins to wander across your body. It starts up near your breast where he fondles it gently, earning a lip bite from you. Then, he goes lower to your stomach where he scratches lightly at your skin. You squirm beneath his hand. He smiles and begins to kiss you once more before going even further, slipping his hands into your pants and cupping your vagina through your soaking panties. You gasp while your lips are still connected and he gently tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, pleased at the reaction he's gotten from you.

"Is this what you want?", he slips two of his fingers into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing it slowly. "Mhm", you whine and press yourself into him. "Goodgirl.", he moves from where he was and makes his way down to your pants. He unbottons them and begins to pull them off. He throws the pants across the room and crawls back towards you on the bed. He removes your shirt and your bra underneath, throwing them in the same direction of the pants. He lowers his head down to one of your hard nipples and wraps his mouth around it, caressing it with his tongue. This causes you to moan quietly and grip the sheets beneath you. Your nipple was already so tender, so the feeling of his tongue was powerful enough to make you squirm. He lowers his hand back into your panties, rubbing your clit with his thumb. Your knees bend inward, trapping his hand between your legs. He chuckles with your nipple gently between his teeth. "Looks like you like this, huh?" You moan in response.

It didn't take long for you to feel a climax building inside you, coming closer and closer to exploding with each touch he inflicted onto your throbbing clit. Moans of all volumes filled the room as you got closer and closer. Then, right when you were about to cum, he stops. You groan in disappointment and look over at him. "I was just warming you up.", he smirks and lays on his back. "Come here.", he commands and pats on his chest, signaling for you to sit there. You do as he says and sit upon his chest. The second you sit down, His strong hands grip onto your hips and he begins to pull your body towards his face. He places you on top of his mouth. The next thing you know, your soaked pussy is being attacked by his tongue. You can't help but let a moan slip out between your lips as he closes is eyes, fully focused on bringing you maximum pleasure. He places each hand on each thigh, gripping them slightly all while his tongue swirls around your clit. You use one hand to grip the headboard of the bed and the other one to grip his hair, tangling your fingers in the grey strands. You grip harder as he sucks on your clit, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He let loose a few muffled moans and groans, causing vibrations on your pulsing clit. "Oh fuck Karl!", you feel your body weight sink lower and lower as you melt into the pleasure of his tongue. You begin to grind your hips back and forth, riding out your orgasm. He doesn't mind at all and begins to work harder to finally push you to your limit. With a loud moan, you cum into his mouth.

As you catch your breath and shake on top of him, he grabs you once again and pushes you over onto the bed. His beard was shiny around his lips due to a mixture of your sweat and cum. He looks down at your flustered and flushed face, pleased with what he'd done. You noticed a large bulge protruding from his pants. "I want you.", you pant as you reach over, massaging the hard lump. He responds by stripping, too breathless to verbally respond. Once he's fully naked, he makes his way onto the bed. You take him by the shoulder and pull his face into yours, initiating a passionate make out session. Your tongues caressing one another as you both toss and turn, ending up with you straddling him.

You rub his already throbbing dick, preparing for its entry. It was quite large and veiny. The hair that led from his lower stomach to his pubic area glistened with precum. You position yourself and begin to sit on his dick, letting it slowly fit inside you. Your extra wetness helped lube it. Once it was completely in, Karl groaned, grabbing your ass in his calloused hands. "Fuck.. you're so good.", he encourages. You begin to slowly rise and fall, letting your pussy stretch to comfortably fit his girth. You both moaned quietly. Once you feel comfortable, you wrap your arms around his neck and begin to bounce on it, feeling each thick vein add texture. 'What a good girl..." Every time you made your way back down, you could feel the tip of his dick reach your special spot, making your knees feel weak. As overwhelming as it felt, you couldn't stop. You continued to bounce up and down on his dick as his fingers grip your ass for dear life. "You're doing so good.", he praises you and you thank him by clashing your lips together, sharing sloppy kisses as you both moan with each up and down motion. "Such a good girl.", he begins to squeeze your breast, causing you to squeal and pick up the pace. It felt amazing, but your legs grew weaker and weaker with each motion, and he could tell. You were panting as you fucked yourself senseless on his dick.

"Wait a sec.", he gently pats your ass to get you to stop. You stop and rest your sweaty forehead to his, legs shaking beneath you. You didn't want to stop, but you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. Your legs felt like they were on fire. 'Let me help you.", his hands glide up to your waist where he clutches your sides and begins to bounce you up and down, continuing the motion you could no longer do yourself. You kiss him and whine into his lips as he slams your body up and down, grunting harder each time. "Such a pretty girl.." he pants. "Riding my cock so good..", he begins to slam his hips into you, reaching a point inside you that he's never reached before. You throw your head back and moan, tears of pleasure and bliss begin to form in your eyes. You're both exhausted and so close to finishing. You're whole body felt like it was numb and on fire at the same time as your climax creeped closer and closer.

And with a few more strong pumps into you, you both cum. He lets loose of your sides and wraps his arms around your back, drenching in sweat. You collapse on top of him, unable to move any of your body. Karl places a few more sloppy kisses across your face, his facial hair tickling your skin. "Don't you ever.. ever believe you're not good enough. Got it?", he pressures. You're too exhausted to form words, so you simply nod your head, laying down on his chest. His heart beat was rapid but soothing. Soon enough, it lulled you to sleep. He soon followed, keeping his arms wrapped tight around you the entire time.

[tinkrbell]

"it doesn't matter what i think now, does it?" theo shoots back. there was no way he was going to admit who he thought was right for her, especially since the more she spoke, the more adamant she seemed that draco was the right person for her. she'd gotten defensive and angry ( rightfully so ), and it only made theo hate the idea of them even more. theo has to bite his tongue when she raves about malfoy and the possibilities of him making her so happy. "good for you then. i'm delighted the two of you bonded after all these years and you're happy with each other." he says sarcastically, unable to hide how much he truly hated this. "i'm sure your mother was elated to hear it too." because even after everything, scoring the sole malfoy heir had always been the mission of all matriarchs for their daughters. maybe that was part of theo's problem with all of this — there was no way theodore nott could compare to draco malfoy.

theo glares at daphne. how could she be so completely on the nose and oblivious at the same time? "no," he spits out. another lie. he doesn't remember the last time he lied to daphne, but it was becoming very easy suddenly. it seemed all it took was the betrayal of his two best friends. it takes him a second to truly process the bite in her tone, but then it has his eyes flashing in blinding fury. her words stung and he has to swallow down the raw anguish and heartache. "just — fuck you, greengrass." which should have been a clear indication that theo was very much in love with her. but theo had never been a man that could wield words properly, and so he's sure it comes out as belittling and offensive ( not to mention the fact that theo rarely called daphne by her surname ).

he could see that the more they argued, the more daphne's emotions slipped. he couldn't ignore the impending tears pooling in her eyes and if he hadn't been so conscious of his heart breaking, theo would have been tempted to comfort her. to wipe her tears with the tender swipe of his thumbs. to pull her into him and hold her until it was better — until they were better. theo doesn't do any of that, and instead, he clenches his fist and tightens his hold around his empty glass. "maybe you should have." theo mutters bitterly. it was the one thing they had actually agreed on since this conversation started, and it didn't even count. it would save theo from having to avoid ( or confront — theo wasn't sure yet ) his best friend. "fine." theo scoffs, expression hardened. he stood up, acutely aware of their eavesdropping friends. for a split second, theo wonders if everyone else had known about the two and was just waiting until theo found out. he doesn't put that cruelty pass them.

Every since they were young, it had always been Theodore for Daphne. She went to him for everything, he was the only one she wanted to spend her life with for the longest of times. And maybe that's why she hadn't really entertained the idea of dating, of finding someone to settle down with and start a family with til now. Which in a perfect world maybe she would have found everything she was longing for with him but this wasn't a perfect world, far from it so this was the one thing she couldn't do with him.. ❪ At least she didn't think so and that hurt more than she was willingly to admit. ❫ Besides if she was truly being honest with herself, she knew that the day would come that they couldn't do everything together. And surely he did too, right? She didn't know but that quickly pushed aside for a moment when she heard his words, causing her to scoff at him. ❝Well it's a good thing that it's not up to you to decide whose right for me or not. But I'm sure they'd all love to know that you don't find them good enough for me, that might be such a blow to their egos. Yet if none of them is good enough for me then who is cause I'd love to know.❞ Because if his own best mate wasn't good enough for her then who was?

The venom in his tone had her taken aback, she's witnessed that tone before but it was never truly directed towards her. So the fact that it was now, had her shifting farther away from him. She could tell that he was hurt and angry but she sincerely didn't understand why. ❝Are you bloody fucking serious mate? Have you completely forgotten I've know him for quite awhile? Sure maybe I haven't always been as close to him as you but life is full of unexpected surprises and things change. And while I don't know if I'm in love with him just yet, I do know he makes me happy and I genuinely can't wait to see where this goes.❞ She states candidly, definitely aware they've caught the attention of everyone now. But she's so transfixed on Theo that she just doesn't care if they're making everyone uncomfortable. More than aware of how far they are from each other, which was an odd feature but she refused to elaborate on it, not when she started the rift. Instead she's furrowing her eyebrows as her frown only deepens. ❝Are you in love with me Theo, truly and honestly in love with me?❞ There was slight venom in her words but she didn't appreciate feeling like she was some how in the wrong for dating Malfoy. And if there was a chance that the male could possible be in love with her then why now? After all he had several opportunities to tell her how he felt. Maybe they blurred a line every time they slept together, maybe he assumed they were a couple but surely he knew that they weren't, right? A soft tsk sound escaped her throat as she shook her head, maybe it was mistake. All of it was but it didn't feel that way, it felt like it was the only thing that was right. But now she didn't know, all she knew this was her first real fight with him and it was over her dating Draco.

Daphne was was beyond upset right now, hell she was bloody angry. Why? Because instead of being happy for her, her best friend made her feel like maybe she fucked up. And what's worse is that she could feel the tears forming in her eyes, yet she couldn't go to the one person she would've gone to if this was anyone else because it was Theo causing all of this. His words had her scuffing at the obvious bullshit of a lie cause clearly it was. ❝Right, no big deal. Expect it is, honestly MAYBE I should have decided to date some random git off the street then maybe my best friend wouldn't be acting like I wounded him.❞ The female remarked, her words were laced in venom now. Snickering at the fact the male couldn't even look at her but had the nerve to ask if she needed anything, what she needed was her best friend's shoulder to cry on but she couldn't have that right now so she simply shook her head. ❝Nothing that you can give me, so don't worry about it. Just go get yourself a drink.❞

[helpimhyperfixating]

Jotaro Comforts You

Word Count: 2935

Having a bad day (like me) and need Jotaro to comfort you? He's got you! Whatever problem you currently have, it's alright, come here and let the Joot man help.

- - - -

Jotaro tiredly opened the door, having spent the entire day in the library, regrettably having to work on a project with one of his classmates. The dude didn't seem to get a hint to shut up and had talked almost the entire time. So, to say Jotaro's social battery was down was an understatement.

As he put down his bag with a small groan and took off his shoes and coat however, he noticed the lack of noise in the house. Normally, the tv or radio would be on, providing background noise for you as you did whatever. Yet right now, there was nothing. Not even a clatter, footstep or hum.

Jotaro's brow furrowed a little and he made his way deeper into the house. No sign of you in the living room, nor kitchen.

A near empty carton of juice was left open on the counter and Jotaro picked it up for a second. He remembered when he left a carton near empty in the fridge once and you had pointedly lobbed the thing at his head, clearly making your point and causing him to never do it again. So, to see you do that thing that you despise worried him, to say the least.

"Y/N?" No longer able to stomach the pressing silence, he called out for you. Yet there was no answer and Jotaro's worry spiked. Your shoes and keys were still by the door in their designated spot so you hadn't left. Yet why weren't you answering?

Quickly putting the juice down with a little more force than necessary, Jotaro made his way out of the kitchen and started walking down the hall towards your shared bedroom. On the way, he opened the study and bathroom but both were empty so he just continued to where his gut was leading him.

Once he reached the door, he carefully opened it, a sigh of relief leaving him when he spotted you lying on the bed.

That relief was short lived however, as he took in the pose you were lying in.

You were lying on top of the blankets, curled in on yourself in the foetus position, except you had tucked your head behind your knees, hiding your face completely from sight as you hugged yourself into a tiny, uncomfortable ball.

Jotaro was silent as he walked in. He knew you were awake and aware of his presence, yet you hadn't unfurled and greeted him, which majorly tipped him off that something was wrong. As he reached the bed and went to reach out for you, he heard the shakiness of your breathing. Were you... crying?

"Y/N? Are you alright?" There was a gentle tenderness to his voice as he put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing slightly in the hopes it would work to do... well, something positive at least.

"Mhm!" What was supposed to be an affirmative hum came out as more of a squeak, quickly stifled by the person who made the noise.

Hearing that, Jotaro sighed softly and crouched down, keeping his hand on your shoulder as he did and now placing his other hand on your knee. "Y/N."

"I'm fine!" Your voice was a little higher pitched than normal, a barely noticeable quiver to it as you quickly spoke those two words.

"You sure?" It was abundantly clear to Jotaro that something was wrong. He wasn't stupid. He also just didn't know his way around words and what to say. You were always the one to voice the emotions, both for yourself and for him, even when he didn't even really realise when he had them. If he was stressed, you would point it out and try to get him to relax. If you were frustrated, you would tell him and he'd help you by getting to the origin of your frustration and dealing with it with you. If he was angry, you would point out he was nearly breaking the glass in his hand and he would realise and calm down. And, if you were sad, you would come to him and ask for comfort. Jotaro never really needed to use his words to express his emotions, you were there to verbally express them for him and he would do all he could with his actions.

So, for you to lie and say you were alright when there was clearly something wrong, that truly worried the college student.

"Yeah, of course." You croaked back in response to his question, trying but failing to clear your throat afterwards. "Sometimes you just have to curl in on yourself like a cat, y'know? It's fun!" A watery chuckle left you as you spoke but your fake cheeriness did not fool the man beside you for even a second; especially since you dug your head even deeper behind your knees as you spoke. "I'm fine, don't worry."

Jotaro softly sighed and stood up, lifting his hands from your shoulder and knee before walking around to the other side of the bed. Slowly and carefully getting on, he did his best to not make the bed dip in such a way that would set you off balance and instead turned to lay down, his back propped up a little against the headboard with pillows.

"Come here, love."

The sudden sentence and nickname broke you from your thoughts of trying to keep your tears in and cries silent and you lifted your top leg a little, peeking through the newly created gap to see Jotaro lying down with his arms open and beckoning you closer.

You didn't want to burden him with your emotions today, knowing he was probably exhausted and just done with the world, so when you suddenly started breaking down about half an hour ago, you had retreated towards the bedroom and hidden away in the hopes Jotaro thought you were out and wouldn't find you. Looks like that plan failed.

But seeing him open his arms to you so warmly and innocently to you, you couldn't stop your body from slowly uncurling.

Your neck cracked from the lengthened period of sitting in an uncomfortable position and Jotaro cringed a little at the noise. His hands still beckoned you however and when you got on your knees, head hung low to still somewhat hide your face and crawled over, he immediately made his arms encircle you once you were in range.

Gently, he coaxed you to lay down against and on him. "Little higher." He spoke when your head landed on his midriff and you did as he said, lifting yourself up a little and shifting a bit higher. Using his arms around you, he helped and positioned you in such a way that your right ear was now pressed to the left side of his chest, right over his heart as he kept his arms locked securely around you, working his legs in between yours and tangling them together while you automatically wrapped your left arm around his waist, your right stuck underneath yourself and flat against his side, yet not uncomfortably so.

"What's wrong?" Jotaro asked again, moving his right hand up to gently hold the back of your head, scratching your scalp lightly in a slow and calming motion.

"Nothing." You spoke again yet simultaneously turned your head to bury your face in his chest, trying to hide again though your legs were now captive to Jotaro's.

"Alright." That was all Jotaro said before falling into silence; a patient understanding in the tone of his voice.

And so the two of you lay in bed, Jotaro gently holding you in his arms while you tried to forcefully calm yourself and stop your breakdown.

Despite the calming presence of Jotaro and the gentle lulling that his heartbeat and hand on your head brought however, your mind kept going in the same spiral. The same thoughts over and over again until you felt the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes again. You had to let it out. If not by crying, then by just talking about it. And, since you didn't want to show even more weakness, you decided to go with the second option.

"I-" You started, but immediately stopped, not really knowing what you wanted to say. "I'm sorry." You choked up at those words, not even having a reason why but Jotaro shushed you, using his hand on your head to press it back down against his chest when you tried to lift it.

"Don't apologise." He murmured, now rubbing his thumb back and forth in a comforting motion. "I know I'm not good at words but I will listen. Talk when you're ready."

His words tugged at your heartstrings and you automatically tightened your hold on him, your right hand bunching his shirt up until you had such a tight hold on it you were almost positive it would wrinkle permanently. That didn't matter right now to Jotaro though.

"I'm a grown ass human, you shouldn't have to comfort me. And- and you had that group project today so you are probably exhausted and completely done with the day, s-so-"

"Stop." Jotaro interrupted you. "None of that shit matters. You matter."

"But-"

"I told you to shut it." He stopped you before you could go into another apology schpiel. "Everyone needs comfort, so just be quiet and take it and then talk when you're ready. Understood?"

Sniffling, you just nodded your head, burying your nose back in his chest and basking in the warmth his body gave off in silence.

You always read and heard that listening to someone else's heartbeat was calming, but now that you actually heard it yourself and really focused your attention on it, you realised how true that actually was. Maybe that was why Jotaro liked laying his head on your chest. Besides the obvious of course, cause damn, you had to admit laying on his tiddies was very nice as well.

Just that thought caused you to smile a little to yourself and you took in a shaky breath, trying to sync it with Jotaro's calm and steady ones.

He had never stopping lightly scratching your head and with that, plus the heartbeat, plus the heat, plus the comfort of his presence, plus the breathing, you finally felt calm enough to talk and seem as if you weren't just bawling your eyes out in silence.

"I'm- today..." You started, unsure since the moment you opened your mouth, you could feel that lump returning to your throat so fast.

"Hm?" Jotaro hummed. You heard his head shift a little so he could look at you but you didn't dare look up, just biting your lip in the hopes the lump would go down. You already started talking now though, so you weren't backing down.

"It's just that, about an hour ago now-" The further into the sentence you got, the more choked up you got, tears filling your vision again. But you didn't care anymore. Tears pouring down your face again, sniffling, scratchy and hiccuping voice, you just told him everything. The reason you were so sad, why you tried to hide away and not let him know, how you didn't know what to do; it was just a continuous stream of spewed words and sentences. Yet, Jotaro listened. True to his word, he listened to every sound pouring from your mouth, humming softly every now and then to indicate he was indeed still there.

Once you were done and had spilled your entire heart out, a wet splotch on his shirt where your tears had soaked through it, Jotaro just merely pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before rolling you over until you were on top of him, gently pushing your head to rest in the crook of his neck while he used his other free arm to rub your back.

"It's going to be alright." He spoke. No edge to his voice, no teasing undertone as you were used to, just, pure and utter sincerity. "I'll always be here."

"Thank you." Your voice was muffled and still sounded teary and you were pretty sure you accidentally drooled a bit on his neck when opening your mouth but Jotaro didn't feel it or didn't care as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head and just held you close, cradling you like a fragile figure of glass.

Several minutes pass like that, nothing but the sound of soft breathing and the occasional ruffle of the bedsheets.

"Have you eaten yet?" Jotaro suddenly broke the silence and you opened your eyes that you had closed a little bit ago.

"No, but- Oh god, oh no, I was supposed to cook and now-" You were hiccuping in between your words once more after finally having calmed down earlier. "Now you won't have any dinner and I'm so sorry Jotaro, I-"

"Hey, it's alright, I'll cook." Jotaro shushed you again, lifting your head from his neck and looking into your eyes as he held a finger under your chin to tilt your head up. "C'mon."

With that, Jotaro sat up with you still in his arms - utilising those abs he trained every morning to get - and swung his legs over the side of the bed, taking hold of your calf and manoeuvring it so that you would lock your legs around his waist.

Not really knowing why, you just did as he wordlessly asked and held on, moving your arms to wrap around his neck while locking your ankles against each other behind his back.

Now that you were in prime carry position as his personal baby monkey, Jotaro moved one arm under you and one arm around your back, getting up without any troubles as he began taking large strides through the house.

While you expected him to go to the kitchen or living room to put you down, he instead made a pit-stop in the bathroom and placed you down on the edge of the tub.

You were confused but stayed silent as he walked over to the cabinet and took out a washcloth before holding it under the tap in the sink, wetting it with water before walking back over to you and kneeling down in front of you.

He gently clasped your chin in his left hand, tilting your head side to side for a second before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Your embarrassment flared up and you could feel your cheeks start to burn from all the blood that rushed to them. You probably looked like a disgusting mess and now he was just taking a good look at you.

Luckily, Jotaro seemed to have some mercy because, even if he did see the blush, he didn't mention it and just pressed the washcloth to your face.

Your breath hitched, not having expected it to be warm, but as Jotaro started gently rubbing it along your face, you couldn't help but hum in content, the sound completely involuntary.

After about three minutes, Jotaro seemed content and he placed the washcloth in the sink before turning back to you.

"Thanks." You shyly spoke and Jotaro hummed softly. "Do I look pretty again?" You spoke a little bit more upbeat with a dumb, tearful grin - making a stupid pose. Just simply rolling his eyes, Jotaro leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a short, soft kiss, pulling back a few moments later to look at you again. "So... pretty enough to kiss then?"

"Yare yare, c'mon." He ignored your stupidity and turned around until he was crouched, back facing towards you - though you did spot the small smirk that he held before he turned.

Just then, you realised what he meant. "On your back?" You questioned with an unsure tone as you looked at it as if it was foreign.

"Get on." Jotaro huffed and you hesitantly but quickly did just that.

With way too much ease, Jotaro stood up, looping his arms under your legs and walking out of the bathroom while you clung onto him like a Koala.

In way less steps than you would have had to take, the two of you arrived in the kitchen and Jotaro started gathering ingredients and cookware.

Either you weren't paying attention, or the hour of crying messed with your head and made your brain all foggy, cause it didn't really register that - even though Jotaro had removed his arms from under your legs and was no longer holding you up - you still felt a pair of arms under your legs, holding you and making you able to just lean agains Jotaro's back without really having to do anything to hold yourself.

As Jotaro got to work, a sleepy haze overtook you and before you knew it, you had fallen asleep against him, your chin on his shoulder as your head leaned into his.

Jotaro felt your weight sink into him fully, indicating you had fallen asleep and he allowed a soft smile to appear on his face. Star Platinum appeared fully and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek since Jotaro couldn't before fading back into his user and just having his arms out to hold you.

You may have had a rough day, but Jotaro wouldn't swap this for the world. Feeling your hair tickle his cheek as you leaned on him, soft yet steady breaths leaving you as you slept.

And, when you woke up, you would be surprised with your favourite food as dinner, and Jotaro couldn't wait to see your reaction.

Did someone say soft Joot? Soft Joot soft Joot soft Joot soFT JOOT. I'm going through some shit so hey! Who better to help than my comfort character