#he declares devotion with his whole chest

[greededling]

laios touden protagonist of all time. high functioning autistic and the most competent man in the fucking room who knows what the fuck he's doing 50000%. and he's got D cups.

#laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #like teehee yeah he's socially awkward and cringy but no #that man shoulders responsibilitie like the goddamn s-tier leader he is #he declares devotion with his whole chest #and baby. thats a whole lotta chest to put behind it

[a-case-of-attachment]

Lucifer wouldn’t say he was possessive. Of course he’s not. You are your own person after all and Lucifer would never want to stop you from doing something or seeing someone. He would say he’s protective though, often having to come between you and a sinner who didn’t seem to realise you weren’t there for their benefit. One to many times Lucifer had let his eyes glow red, had smiled to wide and let his claws dig in when reminding the sinners stupid enough to think they could look upon you or even dared to tough you that you were far to heavenly to be sullied by their covetous gaze or blood stained hands. You never seemed to realise their intentions, oblivious to the attention a sweet smile and kind word got you.

And oh how sweet you were, just like apple pie and oh so tempting. Lucifer wanted to devour you, to sink his teeth into your supple flesh and leave his mark upon you for all of Hell to see. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to spend the entire time he was out with you watching every movement, listening to every word just to make sure you were treated with the respect you deserved. You would look so good with his mark on you, high up on your neck and unable to be hidden by clothes or jewels. A physical reminder of his claim upon your soul because heaven knows that no one seemed to care when you say you are his.

You were his though, just as much as he was yours. His to hold, to kiss, to love. His to laugh with, to cry with, to be honest and open with. He was yours and you were his and yet these sinners still couldn’t seem to wrap their twisted little minds round that fact, trying to take what wasn’t theirs without a care of the consequences of their actions. There were other ways for him to show Hell that you were taken, other marks he could place upon you that would make it clear just how far out of their reach you were.

Lucifer watched you from across the crowded room, red eyes narrowing as a deluded sinner stepped closer to you, undeserving of your attention. Normally Lucifer would already be across the room, quick to end the sinners unwanted advances before they had a change to really begin, but not tonight. No, tonight Lucifer waited and watched, content to sip at his apple martini as he waited for the right moment to strike. Others were already starting to notice, eyes turning towards you the longer it went without Lucifer chasing off the little wretch. Good. Let them look. The more eyes in you the better. Lucifer wanted everyone here to see, to witness his claim on you and your subsequent claim on him.

The foolish sinner made the mistake of leaning in closer, their hand on the small of your back as they whispered something in your ear. It was like the whole room held its breath, a sense of dread and anticipation filling the air because surely Lucifer would intervene now? Of course he would. He couldn’t tolerate such filth laying their hands upon your divine being but he was sure what came next wouldn’t be what was expected.

Finishing his drink Lucifer slowly made he was through the crowd, his eyes never losing sight of you. The box in his trouser pocket felt heavy, his heart thumbing away in his chest as his own anticipation grew. It didn’t take much to get rid of the sinner, just a toothy grin and a flash of red eyes that that had them running off with their tails between their legs. All your attention was on him now and it was like everyone else in the room disappeared, Lucifer captivated by your sweet smile and adoration filled eyes.

Yes there were other ways for him to place his claim on you, ways that involved less teeth and more declarations of love and devotion. Lucifer would see the two of you bound together, your place at his side unmistakable as he forced all of Hell to bow at your feet like the goddess you were. And who better to start than him, Licifer gracefully sinking down on to one knee before you as he pulled out the ring box. Gasps filled the air, a gentle murmur of hushed voices following close behind but he was too focused on you to care what was being said. Wordlessly you held your hand out towards him, your eyes still full of love and devotion as you waited patiently for him to claim you as him before all those present and who was he to deny you.

Slipping the ring on your finger satisfied some deep part of Lucifer that practically growled at seeing the golden snake wrapped around your finger, a blood red ruby shaped like an apple held within its open jaw. There was a round of applause, the sound of it getting lost to the persistent chant of mine, mine, mine that ran through his mind. You were his, soon to be bound to him by ritual and he couldn’t be happier.

So maybe he was a little possessive after all but could you really blame him. Lucifer loved you with every fibre of his being and soon all of Hell would know it to.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #reader insert #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x female reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #lucifer magne x gn reader #lucifer morningstar x gn reader

[gretavanlace]

Hush

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only Minors do not interact

Warnings: graphic sexual content, dirty talk, choking, light degradation, praise, slight dom/sub/switch dynamic, language, etc

Josh is vocal.

That is certainly no secret.

Anyone who has watched him strut about a stage, microphone in hand, knows that.

Off stage, he talks incessantly about both the things that matter to him, and the mundane. Things he is passionate about. Things that light fires within him and drive him to create and pack this world as full of his heart as he possibly can. Arbitrary ideas and notions. Strange ponderings.

Pontification, he likes to call it.

He’s also vocally boisterous when agitated. He loathes waiting, and will mutter complaints near your ear in line until you’re willing your eyes not to roll. A phone call to vent about the antics of one brother or another from the studio is a regular occurrence and can be counted on just like death and taxes.

“Samuel was even later than I was,” he might huff, “and now Jake’s guitar needs to be restrung because fuck this whole world if he has to use a backup. I hate them, and I want to come home to you, light of my life, keeper of the stars, goddess of all that is— oh, we’re ready…gotta go.”

Josh murmurs in his sleep, sings in the shower, talks himself through menial tasks, hums in the grocery store, carries on one-sided conversations with the cat who simply chirps along while swirling around his ankles.

At least twice a night he snatches you from drifting off to sleep with a question: Do you think I should call my mom more? If I miss her, she must miss me. Or, Did I ever tell you about that time that Jake ate shit and fell in the lake? I was thinking about it today, and…

Random thoughts and idle musings he can’t help but verbalize, you hear them all. Mostly. The ones you aren’t privy to, fall upon the nearest ear - but he’s so fucking charming even a stranger is happy to play sounding board.

Josh is also expressive when you’re wrapped up in soft, linen sheets…or wherever else he’s decided he can no longer wait to have you.

Whispers of devotion swelling like a gentle breeze across the hum of your pulse when he makes love to you. Filthy, dirty, blush-inducing declarations when he’s fucking into your trembling body like he’ll never touch it again.

And you love it…all of it. But now - with your visiting sister slumbering in the guest room on the other side of the wall - is certainly not the time.

“Baby, please…” his mouth is sucking gently along your collarbone as he grinds into you slowly, friction hard and constant against your greedy, swollen clit, “let me fuck you faster…c’mon, I need it.”

”What you need, is to be quiet,” your voice is a stern whisper, but your hands are tender in his hair.

He could easily set a pace as brutal as he desired if he felt inclined to disobey…but, ever the sweetest switch, he has opted to play nice tonight.

”I’ll be quiet,” he promises. It is a lie he truly believes, and to prove that point, you clench around him and draw forth a pitiful groan from deep within his chest.

A swift pinch at his side serves as punishment ”Shut. Up.”

”Fuck you,” he sounds deliciously desperate, “You did that on purpose. Squeezing me with that beautiful pussy…goddamn.”

”What’s going to happen if I let you make me cum? Hmm?” Your mouth falls into a delicate pout as if you just feel so sorry for him, “You know how tight I get. How I just hug your cock all snug and wet…”

”And warm,” he adds, lost in it, daydreaming in the dark of night and twitching inside the embrace of your cunt, “Soft as satin, sucking me right in…oh my god, baby, please.”

He begins moving with more purpose, dragging the head of his cock against that lovely little spot that will render you incoherent if you allow it to.

”Oh my god, please,” you mock quietly, “Look at you Joshua, what a whiny baby. What are you begging for? Pussy? Is that what you need?”

He nods frantically against your sternum, as though he doesn’t trust himself to look up at you.

You feign confusion wickedly “But you’ve got that. You’re already inside me…”

“Faster,” he breathes, biting and mouthing at your shoulder now, “Need it faster, and harder. It’s too slow, I need more.”

Clicking your tongue like he is a poor, pathetic sight to behold, you shake your head, “Slow down.”

”No, please don’t make me,” he slows, as instructed, but trails off with a whimper.

So, maybe there’s no ‘like’ about it, maybe he really is a poor, pathetic sight to behold. Yes, you decide, that’s exactly what he is…

…so why not push him even further?

With a swift tug on the roots of his curls, you issue an order ”Stay still.”

Despondent and mournful, he groans into the crook of your neck and grabs at your hips so tightly you’ll be admiring raspberry bruises in the mirror come morning. “C’mon, baby girl…lemme take it. I fucking want it.”

If he were looking at you, he’d see the devilish gleam in your eye. Aren’t you an awful witch tonight? “What? Don’t you like it when I keep your pretty cock warm for you?”

He flexes hard inside of you, simply to gain even a hint of friction. “You’re being so fucking mean.”

”Mean?” You coil around the throbbing length of him and he shudders out the tiniest sound, “If I was mean, I’d lock your pretty cock in a cage and fuck your face all night.”

For a moment, he shirks his submissive edge and hisses in your ear, low and slow, “Liar. Not with little sister in the next room…you couldn’t keep quiet with my face between your legs if someone fucking paid you to.”

In response, you shove him back and roll until your thighs are locked around his waist, the crown of his cock nestled against your clit as your hips swivel heated circles.

”Does that feel good, baby?” You’re taunting him cruelly while, in contrast, lovingly reaching up to smooth the furrow from his brow. “Does that just feel so good?”

”Wanna put it back inside,” his eyes squint shut and anyone who didn’t know better might think his expression is that of suffering. “Perfect fucking cunt, so tight, so…”

”Shh,” you quiet him with a hand wrapped around his throat, relishing the way his adam’s apple slides against your palm when he swallows hard, “shut your mouth for once.”

He’s staring up at you, wide-eyed and needy, like you painted the stars in the sky, gorgeous and glittering, just for him…and how you wish that were true. How you wish you could give him something so profound. Something worthy of his light.

”I won’t make a sound,” his vow sounds out, a cross between the honesty he wishes it to be rooted in, and the lie he knows it to be. “C’mon baby, please…fuck me sweet.”

Does he really want it sweet? Or is he simply aware that that’s all he is capable of quietly handling?

Likely the latter.

Your fingers have found your nipples, twisting and tugging on them as they tighten into pink pebbles that send shivers crawling down into your stomach with every pull. His eyes lock in on you, watching you tease them as his breathing kicks up into a frenzy.

“You’re pushing it,” he warns, grip pulling you down closer as he rocks his hips up to meet you. “Keep it up and I’m gonna fucking take it. Be a good girl now, baby…I’m done with your shit.”

”Yeah?” Your eyebrow raises in silent challenge. Does he have it in him tonight?

“Yeah.” He nods, licking his thumb to swirl much too gently across your clit.

”I think you should just behave and be grateful for what you’re—“

Stunned and dazed, the room blurs around you as you’re flipped and tossed until your cheek is pressed against the cool, crisp sheets. They smell of him, and you breathe Josh in until your lungs ache while his cock teases at your entrance from behind.

His body folds over yours until his lips sweep the shell of your ear, “You’ve done it now, baby girl. Better be quiet, yeah? Not a sound.”

With a swift snap of his hips, the silken glide of his cock fills you full as his palm presses against your lips to muffle the high-pitched moan that gasps out of you.

”Now who’s the whiny baby?” his perfect teeth sink into your earlobe and tug until it blooms with heat. The moan that seeps into his soft skin causes his lips to curl into a smirk you can feel. “This is what you wanted, you think I don’t know that?”

He has begun moving at an excruciatingly slow place, the head of his cock dragging gently inside you just right…but you need more.

”You think I didn’t know that you wanted me to just fucking take it all along?”

You nod urgently, tangling your hair against the pillowcase. Of course he knew, he knows you better than you know yourself. There are no secrets to be hidden away when it comes to Joshua. He hunts each and every one down like glittering treasure with ease…your body his map, the pools of your eyes ciphers he decodes without even trying.

His tongue is dancing its way along your jaw now, springing chills to life upon your flushed skin ”Tell me how good my cock feels and I’ll fuck you full.”

Another woeful sound shakes out of you and a rumbling, gravelly laugh huffs warm against your cheek, “My poor, sweet baby can dish it just fine tonight, but she can’t take it? Is that it?”

With a shhh that makes you feel weighed down heavy with lust, he lifts his palm away from your mouth. “I can take it,” you promise in a hush, “Please…I can take it, I swear.”

He is so still inside you, but the familiar stretch is enough to send a tremble tripping up your spine, spider-cracking like a jolt of electric pleasure. “But can you take it quietly? Can you be a real good girl or should I gag you like a whore?”

”I’ll be a good girl,” you breathe, relishing the sound that slips out of him, a cross between famished desire and worshipful devotion.

“Yeah?” He’s enjoying this little game too much to wave goodbye to it just yet, “You’ll be a good girl if I give you this cock?” He presses in so deeply there’s nothing left for him to give, “You’ll take it quietly and squeeze it nice and tight? Soak it with your little wet cunt when I make you cum?”

He can feel you clenching already, twisting around him like a fist, milking him, pulling him in, starved for more.

”Yes, yes, yes,” you chant softly, begging for him to get on with it, “Just fuck me, Josh…please,”

There’s that sinful mouth of his again, ghosting over your ear, “Just fuck me Josh,” he mocks in a velvet whisper, “Please.”

A sob escapes you and turns the apples of your cheeks pink…he echoes the sound back to you and fans the flames of your delectable shame.

”Quiet now, baby…” he reminds you, tone taunting and laced with self-satisfaction, “You just bite down on the pillow if it gets to be too much, and I’ll bite down on you.”

You tighten around him at the mere thought of it and tug an achingly gorgeous grunt from deep within his chest, “You like that? You want me to bite you to keep quiet? Mark you up all pretty?”

”Fuck…” you reach back and grab for him, fingers sinking into the curve of his waist, begging for it with your entire body.

You can’t seem to manage much more, but it’s enough for him, and with a swift pull back, he snaps his hips hard and fast and sets a relentlessly feral pace in motion.

The head of his cock, thick and suede-soft, kisses your cervix with each inward push, driving a wild sound out of you that you smother into the pillow, tongue dragging against the worn cotton as though it were his mouth.

His teeth are peppering your back and shoulders, gnashing his own moans way down deep into your flesh where you will secret them away forever. He gifts each sound to you on a gorgeous, stinging platter and you only want more, more, more. It is never enough with him…you are gluttonous for whatever he sees fit to offer.

”You feel so fucking good, baby,” it comes undulating across your cheekbone like a warm, languorous breeze, “So fucking wet, I can feel you all over me. You’re gonna make me cum.”

He grows impossibly hard within you and that, along with the filth he is sighing into the night and the drags of his teeth, sends you careening over the edge you had no idea you were so close to. You explode around him, and his weight grows heavier atop you as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“That’s it,” his praise is clipped and winded, “just - fuck - just like that. Keep going, so tight, messy pretty fucking pussy, make me cum, baby, please…make me fucking cum.”

He’s babbling like a brook you want to lie beside and listen to for the rest of your life. So beautiful. So Josh. But so quietly, and you know how difficult it must be for him, how hard he must be trying, and you love him all the more for it.

With a final, vicious bite, he coaxes a hiss out of you that makes him see stars as he lets go, fucking himself deeper and deeper as he rides it out, moans pressed into your glazed, shivering body like flowers in between the pages of a book.

And still, you only want more. You want his jaw to lock, his teeth to break the skin, to draw blood, to scar you…soft pink, raised marks tattooed by his kiss to remind you.

A long sigh flutters your hair, and your eyes drift closed at the soothing lilt of the sound as his fingers begin to card through your hair.

”You thirsty, baby?” His nose nuzzles at you, drawing forth a lazy smile that is half smashed into the pillow.

“Yes, but stay a little longer.”

He cuddles down into you, cheek to cheek, the weight of his body keeping you warm and safe in the silence.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @profitofthedune @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @jakeslovehandles @jakesgrapejuice @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #fanfic #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #josh kiszka #josh kiskza smut #gvf josh #josh kiszka fic #josh kiskza fanfic #josh kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka x reader #josh gvf #gvf fanfiction #gvf smut

[barbieaemond]

The King of Qarth (sneak peek)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Qartheen f!reader (use of she/her)

Warnings: angst, mentions of sexual abuse, child bride, smut, some bondage, knife kink, breeding kink (more to be added)

Author’s note: purely based on this vibe. To be posted next week.

Taglist: @zae5 @succnfucubus @arcielee @multyfangirl @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs

“Wife, may I introduce you to our noble guest?”

A woman comes forward to greet him when Aemond enters a lavish hall with several windows adorned with colorful drapes of silk. He is sure he has never seen so much marble in his life, feeling even more inappropriate given the state of his clothes and his whole demeanor, shamefully far from the clean, soldierly appearance that left mouth agape.

“Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, from Westeros.” The Salt King declares as the woman stops just before him. The Prince stands tall and imposing, no matter the misery of his shabby clothes, the state of his dishevelled hair falling in silver tangles down his back. He’s still a Targaryen, his chin is high and proud.

“More like from Old Valyria.” She says raising an eyebrow, and sizing him up and down. “He seems to have just emerged from the Doom, miraculously unscathed.”

The Prince does nothing but seethe his teeth behind his dry lips, a distant shame in his eye that quickly turns into a focused and unblinking rage.

“Welcome to Qarth, my Prince. I’d trust your journey was uneventful but…I can see the Red Waste takes its toll, even on Valyrian beauty.”

Aemond takes a good, long look at her, inevitably lingering on her chest, dressed as the common Qartheen fashion dictates: one breast exposed. But a lot more of her is exposed. Her shoulders, her arms and legs, a glimpse of her hips, all crossed by swirling bundles of lilac silk.

If any married woman in Westeros dressed like that in the open, he’s sure any husband would lock her up. At least he would.

“You must excuse my wife, Prince Aemond, or rather, get used to her habit of speaking her mind.”

“Come now, Xavos. Surely Westerosi women can voice their thoughts?” she moves, walking past Aemond and her husband to reach a small table inlaid with gold to pour some greenish beverage into a cup. “I had a maid once, she was from…Rich Garden?”

“High Garden.” Aemond sternly corrects her.

“Ah, yes. A delightful creature, always smelled so good.” She says distractedly “Anyway, she fled from your lands because she liked girls and not boys and she didn’t want to devote her life to being a brood mare sucking a flaccid cock until her hair had gone white.”

Her maids snicker somewhere past Aemond shoulders, stiffening his posture at the liberties those commoners are granted. “I should hope you Westerners listen to your women more than you do your horses.”

Aemond watches as she takes a sip and laces his hands behind, slightly tilting his head for a moment. “Where I come from, women do not possess such a sharp tongue. Furthermore and fortunately, most of them have manners. They know how to address a Prince of the Realm.”

She turns to leave the cup on the same table and glances at Nyla. “Oh, he bites.”

“This is not Westeros, dragon prince.” She says turning to face him with a righteous smile “I don’t need to ask for your permission to speak. The Salt King is my husband, that is why you will hear my maids and everyone else address me as Your Highness. So, you may lower that chin and stop waiting for me to bow down to you because technically my rank is higher than yours. You might say the only one meant to bow in this room were you.”

The silence that follows is so stark that the air the Prince quickly exhales through his nose sounds like thunder, alerting the Salt King. "Come now, wife. Don't wake the beast.” he says lightly, stiffening a smile “And I mean it quite literally. You should see the size of Prince Aemond’s dragon.”

“I heard.” She acknowledges “Jorio said he’s higher than the city walls.”

“She. And twice, than your city walls.” The Prince corrects her again, just as sternly. “She’s the largest dragon alive in the known world.”  

His chin remains high and haughty, simply because he can. Because she knows he could raze the entire city to the ground just by snapping his fingers.

So, she looks down and says “Since you will be our guest, it is my duty as matron of this house to make you feel welcomed. If you would be so kind to follow me, your Grace.” She forces her tone to be as courteous as possible. But then she smiles. “Is my tongue acceptably sharp to your liking now?”

PART 1

#once a teaser always a teaser #the king of qarth #liv (in la vida loca) #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond smut #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond fanfiction

[j3llyd0nut]

All to You

ೀ Older!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Summary: A soft morning with Leon (or not).

Warnings: 18+, age gap (reader is in their 20s), oral (m&f receiving), pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel), accidentally made him c(h)orny here.

A/N: I was imagining id!Leon here but any older version of him works too! And also watch me disappear from the face of the earth after posting this. Feedbacks are appreciated!

Sabrina Claudio- All to you

The room was bathed in a gentle, pleasant glow as the dawn's first rays slowly peaked through the drapes. Lying there, nestled in a sea of cotton sheets, you slowly became aware of a presence next to you: your lover, Leon. As your eyes landed on his serene face, which was illuminated by the soft morning light, a happy smile pulled at the corners of your mouth. It was rare to see him in this state, as usually his face would always be in a scowl.

His chest moved up and down in a rhythm that seemed to harmonize with the very essence of the room. You reached out and lightly touched his cheeks, caressing them with care as his eyelashes created delicate shadows on them. 

The small elements in your shared bedroom made it come to life: a vase of flowers on your bedside table that Leon brought home to you last night, whose fragrance blended with the aroma of your freshly washed bed sheets. A quiet sigh escaped from your lips as you shifted slightly and snuggled deeper under the covers.

You were awestruck by the openness and closeness of it all as you quietly observed him. The time seemed to stand still, and the world outside the window ceased to exist as both of you were trapped in a cocoon of shared dreams and early morning tranquility. Your heart was overflowing with affection and appreciation for the moment, and you pressed a feather-light kiss to his forehead, his skin warm against your lips.

Your simple gesture made him rouse from his dreams; the feeling of grogginess disappeared in a fleeting moment as he felt the sensation of your feather-like kisses gracing his forehead. His eyelashes fluttered open, and his eyes were met with your warm gaze. From his forehead to his cheeks—and you didn’t forget his stubble jaw—your soft kisses followed a line of murmured promises, leaving a lingering warmth in his wake.

As Leon recognized what was happening—a lovely, dreamy awakening planned by the one who held his heart (you)—a gentle, dawning smile curved his lips. "Morning," he mumbled in a drowsy tone, having just stirred from slumber.

“Good morning, my love.”

You continued to press kisses on him; each gentle lip press conveyed stories of love and devotion that words could never express. The gentleness of your lips held a symphony of feelings—love, adoration, and a quiet vow to treasure every second both of you spent together.

As your lips continued their gentle exploration, his heart swelled with softness and gratitude for this stolen moment of intimacy. His whole life, he experienced pain and agony, but in this moment, he felt loved and cherished by you. By the sheer force of the affection that came from your lips, the lazy fog that had lingered in his mind was lifted.

"Someone is feeling affectionate today." Leon chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm and loving embrace. "I can’t help it; you looked adorable in the morning." It was Leon’s turn to launch a gentle assault of kisses on your face as he cradled it with his free hand. Fingers, warm and tender, traced the contours of your cheek. His touch was a silent reassurance, a wordless declaration of his presence and devotion to you too. "Only you would think I’m adorable, sweetheart." He hummed as the corner of his lips lifted into a smirk.

You let out a soft chuckle. "I’m glad I’m the only one who thinks that; I don’t want anyone else to steal you away from me." There was a hint of possessiveness and playfulness in your tone. "Don’t worry, sweetheart," His gaze locked with yours with a magnetic pull. "I am all yours, like you are mine." With a breathless pause, both of your lips met in a dance of longing and desire.

His rough hand trailed down underneath your shirt, which made you mumble into the kiss. This gave him the opportunity to intertwine his tongue with yours in a language only both of you understood. One of your hands found solace in running through his dirty blonde locks, the silky strands—thanks to your shampoo—gliding between your fingers.

Leon’s body responds eagerly to your touch, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his own hands exploring the curves of your body. The loose fabric of your shirt provided little resistance as his fingertips brushed against your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You broke away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting both of your lips. “So, breakfast?” Your words hung in the air, a mix of desire and playfulness dancing in your voice. “Oh, I have a better idea than breakfast.” He replied with a smirk on his face, his voice low and husky. “Let me taste you, angel.”

Your thighs squeezed in anticipation and excitement as his words filled the air. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded and tried to remove the cover before Leon interrupted you. “No, no baby. I want you to sit on my face.” A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked into your eyes.

His hands found their way to your hips, tugging the waistband of your underwear down. His touch sent another shiver down your spine. He lay on his back as he helped you straddle yourself above his eager face, your underwear long gone near the bedside. You lowered yourself onto his waiting mouth, feeling the warmth and wetness of his tongue as he began to explore you. The stubble on his jaw pricked your thighs, but you did not care as it added to the sensation.

His lips and tongue worked in sync, expertly pleasuring you, with each flick and swirl of his tongue driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. He let out a groan underneath you as you gripped his hair and brought his face closer to your core. You were a moaning mess as you rode his face, his hands gripping your hips firmly, which will surely leave a mark or two.

You surrendered yourself fully to the pleasure he provided, unable to contain your moans as they filled the room with the sound of his lips smacking and sucking against your slick folds, lapping up the essence like a dog. It was as if he had tapped into his most primal instincts, with his desire to taste and consume you evident in every motion.

As your orgasm finally washed over you, your body trembled with release. However, that did not stop Leon from continuing with his ministrations, prolonging your pleasure for as long as possible—he puts your pleasure above his anytime of the day because he gets himself off by that. Only when your body was sated and trembling did he finally stop with his assault, a satisfied smile playing on his face. "Thanks for the breakfast, baby," he murmured against your thighs as he gave them a soft peck, his voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and desire.

His lips glistened with your own arousal, a visual reminder of the pleasure he had just bestowed upon you. Seeing him in that state made your desire still burn within you. With a coy smile, you leaned down closer, your breath hot against his ear. "My turn to taste you."

Suddenly, a tinge of dominance took hold of you. With a sensual yet comforting touch, you trailed your fingers along his bare chest, relishing the warmth of his skin. You could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath your touch.

With a mixture of hunger and reverence, you gently tugged on the waistband of his boxers, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. It stood proudly before you. You took a moment to appreciate the sight—him as a whole, the way his face is flushed, and his hair cascading on the pillow. 

Seeing him in that state fueled your arousal, matching the rhythm of your intimate connection. Eyes hazy with desire, you finally took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive tip. Pleasure surged through his veins, and his body responded eagerly to your skilled mouth. His hands found their way into your hair, gently guiding your movement.

Your mouth moved with a rhythm that drove him to the edge, exploring every inch of his length. The intense pleasure from your mouth and the way your touch grazed his inner thighs, his need to release growing with each passing moment.

"That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so good." He let out a loud groan as his body became tensed.

The way he praised you made your actions intensify, each movement becoming fervent to please him and make him feel good. It didn’t take long for him to spill himself into your mouth; the sensation was overwhelming and electrifying.

As he caught his breath, he leaned toward you, capturing your lips with his. His hands roamed your body, his touch possessive yet gentle as he explored every inch of your trembling form. Breaking away from the kiss with a low moan, he stared into your eyes, full of love and admiration. "Waffles or pancakes?" A soft chuckle escaped your lips in response to his question, "Waffles.”

#✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #resident evil

[hitlikehammers]

a Valentine's-flavoured cuddly-loose-lipped-secret-spilling-hopped-up-on-cold-medicine!Eddie

(and his ever-devoted boyfriend Steve who he's been crushing on since high school but that part's a secret was a secret)

for @thoroughlycollected: featuring the (actually kind of horrible) way schools would sell carnations for $1 or something for Valentine's Day to anonymously deliver to your crush

It turns out that Eddie under the influence comes in a variety of flavors.

High Eddie is languid, touchier than he’s normally prone to which is fucking saying something, and weirdly philosophical. He talks about alternate universes beyond the Upside Down as a meta-something concept. He theorizes how maybe he died in another dimension but some weird particle-subversion-something-something-whatever couldn’t survive re-sublimation in the Right-Side-Up and honestly when the big-brain bullshit skirts the edges of Eddie’s mortality Steve is here for all of none of that part, because Eddie’s heart was beating under Steve’s hands the whole goddamn time, sometimes maybe coaxed by Steve’s hands but from the moment Steve found him and Dustin to the moment he let go at the hospital he didn’t not feel Eddie’s heart beating, and he knew that not least because he would have come apart at the seams if that’s happened, he would have crumbled entirely for losing, or almost-losing, or thinking even close to losing the potential, the promise between them they’d barely skirted but that’d rooted heavy and at home in Steve’s chest already and fuck, fuck—

When Eddie philosophizes in general usually Steve just hangs on his every word, mesmerized by the beauty of him top of bottom, inside and out: somehow all Steve’s. But when his philosophizing leans toward that Steve’s own heartbeat does some weird shit that the weed can’t claim whole credit for and he grabs Eddie hard every time and kisses him until he’s dizzy with it, until they both are, until Eddie’s reduced just to blinking for at least five whole minutes and by that point High Eddie’s on to another topic altogether.

Which is for the best.

By comparison: Drunk Eddie is a lovelorn bastard, a little bit teary with it sometimes even, but always clingy and a touch extra possessive, sappier than he gets on even his most sappy days. One time he told Steve that no, he couldn’t let him go to take a piss because, and Steve remembers this word for word: there’s stardust in my body that’s in your body and that shit’s like magnets, Stevie, like magnets or whatever so my heart’s like pulled to your heart and if you go away without me ever you’ll rip my heart out—because like, a guy remembers that kind of declaration shouted into his ear over the music at a bar that’s safe enough that they’d get away with the excuse that Eddie was plastered, for the way he was hanging on Steve, but thank fuck the lighting was shitty enough that no one could see the flush on Steve’s cheeks, and thank fuck even more that no one could see his magnet-heart and how pounded something wild for the way Eddie draped over him and pressed full against his chest and nuzzled under his chin and made the kind of declarations that Steve had kinda been searching and hoping for all his life.

Drunk or not.

But then there’s another flavor, a specific one: and that’s medicated Eddie. And that Eddie, that cough-medicine-soaked-to-the-gills Eddie?

He’s an adorably giggly little fuck, is what he is.

“I’ll feel better by Saturday,” he lolls his head over to Steve’s shoulder where they sit beside one another, Eddie properly bundled in three blankets with a Sprite in hand. “Pinky-promise,” he slurs a little, but it might just be the stuffed-up nose doing the heavy lifting on garbling his words, and then fuck, of course the dipshit reaches up to seal the deal like the absolutely irresistible goofball he is, and always: snot-coated and all.

“Just rest up, babe,” Steve pulls him close with an arm around around his shoulder, dropping a firm kiss to his forehead: still warmer than Steve would like, in all honesty: “forget about Saturday,” and he means that with his whole chest, because fuck reservations and flowers and boxes of the chocolates Eddie likes best from the city—his boyfriend is sick, his boyfriend is hurting, and there is kinda not a single more important thing than that, than attending to that and making it hurt even the slightest bit less of he’s able, if it’s in his power.

“But we had,” Eddie sniffles heavily, loud and almost painful-sounding; “we had plans,” he whines, and turns toward Steve with overbright-eyes, far too watery:“our first,” he says it like it’s a heartbreak unto itself, bottom little quivering, and fuck.

Steve smiles though he hurts for Eddie right now so hard, want to take all the aching into himself it to spare this beautiful man for a fucking second, just he reaches and traces lilting patters around Eddie’s eyes, his browbone, his jaw, slow down to press soft at his lips:

“You not planning on having many more?” Steve asks soft, a little playful, a little leading: he likes to hear it, and often: that Eddie’s in this as deep and true and Steve is. For the long haul.

“All the more,” Eddie sing-songs sniffily, which is both pathetic and adorable, tugs at Steve’s heartstrings and the corners of his lips alike; “alllll of the more, Stevie-baby,” he draws out in promise, crosses his heart uncoordinated for feeling fuzzy with his cold and being fully cocooned in blankets and again: adorable and pathetic and perfect.

The man’s fucking perfect, even when he’s all stuffed-up and curled sick on the couch.

“Got you the best presents,” he adds on dreamily with a little chuckle, the high-pitched airy kind that float in the air between like bubbles; “so much better than all the other ones,” he adds kinda petulantly, pouts full around the words and maybe it’s the cough medicine, or the fuzziness Steve knows well comes with both the cold itself and the remedies to help alike; he brushes his lips against Eddie’s forehead just to be safe and Eddie giggles a little and leans full-bodied into Steve, unbalanced for the swaddling of most of his frame and that just makes him laugh all the more: he’s no more feverish than he had been, which was admittedly barely, just more than Steve liked, but: yeah.

Yeah, that’s…he kinda guesses it all could combine to have Eddie spewing kinda nonsense, and he probably should just smile and pull his boyfriend closer in his arms and cuddle him some more but he’s both curious and concerned, which turns out to be a potent mix, so:

“Other ones?”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums long and warm as he snuggles up to Steve a little closer, and Steve stretches an arm around him wholly, settles him flush to his chest: “but shh, don’t tell, okay?”

And Eddie sounds breathless, which piques Steve worry alongside the bright flush he finds on Eddie’s cheeks when he looks down: his eyes are fairly clear and…no, forehead’s still the same temperature, not clammy or anything, and Eddie’s just preening as he lazily tips his face up to receive more kisses, mostly unaware that Steve’s attentions serve any other purpose than loving on him.

And , well, no: they really don’t, it’s just the love’s multi-layered here, just now. It’s love, and it’s devotion, and it’s dedication to Eddie’s general wellbeing all wrapped into one. So: yeah.

“Swear,” Steve decides to play along, hoping for clues as to just how loopy Eddie’s ended up for one end of the sick-stick or the other; “what’s up, baby?” he draws circles over the harsh jut of Eddie’s clavicle, little massages that Eddie eats up with a dimpley grin as he sighs, back to the dreamy-tone again:

“Flowers.”

Steve buries a little smile into Eddie’s tangly tresses, because like…

“You got me flowers?”

No one’s ever really gotten Steve flowers.

“Noooo,” Eddie giggles and shakes his head under Steve’s chin as he buries closer into Steve’s chest, stretches Steve’s already mostly unbuttoned shirt out to damn well nuzzle the fuzz of curls beneath, and he makes this fucking…soft little half-whine that’s almost a purr, that vibrates straight through Steve’s ribs and his heart goddamn flutters, fucking hell—

“But that’s a great idea, can you remind Eddie tomorrow?” he pulls back with those fucking button eyes so big, as he talks about himself like he’s another person with such innocence then chuckles, burrowing against in Steve’s chest:

“I’d love to buy you good flowers, the nice kind, not the ones in a ten-gallon bucket sitting getting brown,” and his voice is all frown but…adorable, fuck, he’s such a fucking adorable drugged-up sicko, Steve can’t really handle this shit.

“And it was so sad,” he sniffles against Steve’s chest, and hell if Steve knows if it’s congestion or something like…mounting? Because he’s so sad? “The white ones, because they got brown so fast and, and,” and his words get caught up as his lungs rebel, as he sneezes, shakes from his core and Steve’s hands grab for him, tighten around him fiercely and Eddie gives into that protective instinct in Steve like clockwork, magnetic and automatic and Steve loves him so goddamn fucking much.

He presses his lips to Eddie’s temple as Eddie catches his breath and groans a little; kisses his over-warm skin just because.

“Carnations,” Eddie sniffles once he gets his bearings back enough; “are symbolssss,” he draws out long like a sloppy hiss; “of devohhh,” and he coughs a little, and pouts at being interrupted so he huffs heavier on the last syllable: “shun.”

De…devotion? Fucking…carnations?

Shit, Steve hasn’t seen a carnation, at least not knowingly; not since—

“And white ones mean pure,” Eddie rambles, all nasally but indignant anyhow, somehow; “so white carnations would be pure devotion,” and Eddie untucks himself from Steve’s chest for a second to look at him straight on with a little wobbly grin.

“You didn’t even notice, did you,” Eddie says, and there’s no sadness in it; but fuck, Steve…

Steve might fucking, like, start fucking crying.

Because he knows exactly what Eddie’s talking about, now.

“I noticed,” because it was the fucking carnations, the last time he thought about them: Hawkins High School, where they decided to hold up the horrible preteen tradition of anonymous flowers delivered for Valentine’s Day, so three people could be reminded they were the top of the fucking food chain with a pile of crushed flowers still dripping from their buckets of water, the little colored-paper tags soggy with the writing unreadable, while the rest of the school got to feel less-than when they got nothing, and Steve got more than his share even in the years after he toppled from on high in the social hierarchy, but they’d never mattered to him, they’d kinda made him feel uncomfortable. Except—and he could never explain it, but it was predictable, it happened every fucking year—in the collection of reds and pinks there was always one that stood out, all on it’s own.

A white one; Steve never even caught that they’d gone brown at the edges.

“Every year I noticed,” he exhales, and breathes Eddie in from the top of his head because, because—

Every year? Meant…meant every year. Freshman on up.

“My heart used to do this thing,” Steve murmurs against Eddie’s scalp, kinda; and yeah, it’s basically doing the same goddamn thing right now, a little trippy and dizzy and just…it’d scared him a little.

He recognizes now it’s how his chest feels when what he’s doing, where he is, who he’s with, who he holds inside tight close with him: it’s how his chest feels when what he’s doing is right.

“When I saw the white ones,” Steve whispers, and kisses against Eddie’s hair again, and again, because god; “only one person ever sent those.”

“Sometimes I’d have to run, like, hide in the gym showers so no one would know it was me,” Eddie matches his whisper, almost conspiratorial as he reaches out for Steve hand and Steve’s more than happy to meet him, to grasp tight, so tight; “hated gym, did you know that?”

“Oh, I had no idea,” Steve deadpans as he nuzzles Eddie’s hair, while Eddie goes back to nuzzles his chest, and Eddie’s breathing starts to even out and Steve thinks maybe he’s asleep, but then—

“Stevie?”

“Yeah, baby?” Steve wraps his arm around Eddie a little tighter.

“You’ll remind me about the flowers?” he asks, so goddamn soft; “wanna buy the best white carnations you’ve ever seen in your whole life.”

And Steve promises, yeah, of course—except: he kinda thinks maybe he already got the best ones years ago, again, and again.

He won’t discourage more of the very best, though, so long as Eddie’s the one next to him, handing them to him face to face, no hiding anywhere, just: them.

Pure devotion.

✨ ao3 link here

permanent tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #established relationship #established steddie #domestic fluff #valentine's day #sickfic #but like: eddie's a sniffly-cuddly-bundle-of-cough-medicine #and steve is a doting and caring and adoring boyfriend about it #secret time: eddie's been crushing on steve since high school #high school carnation sales #secret admirer #happy ending #or: happy-SAPPY ending #stranger things

[fanaticsnail]

Left Behind - Snails Rambling Fic Thoughts

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Notes: I think I like writing fanfic and rambling about this so much because I really got into playing mermaids, fae and princesses as a child 💀.

Also, considering the last thoughts I had on this concept was on Kid's side, I wanted to know how it would look from the other perspective.

Not a fic, just purely a concept - but a long one.

Okay, okay, okay.

But imagine being a Kid-Pirate who was left behind by your captain after he declared he was going to take on Red-Haired Shanks. He left you behind, specifically, because you were the only one who opposed him.

“That is the stupidest fucking idea you've ever had,” you'd voice your reprimand alongside your concern, “He is one of the emporers. He has a crew far stronger than we are. He has an Armada he could call for backup. His Haki is-.”

And after you've aired your opposition, Eustass Kid brushes them aside; convincing you that he'd given up on the idea. He sends you away to gather inventory, casting off and weighing anchor the minute you're out of sight.

And then the chaos, the havok, the injury, the mayhem.

Suddenly your captain is missing an arm, his skin is scorched and mutilated. There's crewmen missing, there's so much blood.

After you regroup with your troop, you rush to your captain and embrace him as he falls to his knees. He whispers between sobs, clutching at your shirt with his remaining fist.

“You were right,” he attempts to embrace you completely, his phantom limb joining behind your back as he attempts to join his wrists together, “You were right. I should have listened. I should have never left you behind.”

He expects your scolding, he expects your wrath, he expects, awaits and anticipates the screams of fury erupting from your lungs.

In it's stead, all you do is lower your tone and elevate his face with your two hands caressing his scarred skin. His cheeks were streaked with tears, his eyes full of glossy sorrow. You’d glare down at him through half-hooded lashes, your lip curling up as your silent rage begins in a low whisper.

“I will destroy them,” you'd confess in a tone darker than the dead of night, “They will bend until they break, their blood will ignite beneath the flames of my wrath.”

Eustass Kid would never see a rage akin to this for as long as he lives. A rage that fuelled your retribution enough to have you break away from your crew and live in solitude while you trained and readied your body to weaponize your grief .

He had left you behind, after all. Why should you continue to claim him as captain as he so easily was able to cast you aside? Although now he is no longer captain to you, he will always be mentioned in the same breath as ‘friend,' or even 'lover.'

Names, faces and titles would be committed to memory. Your persona as an assassin to invoke your revenge would have you take new names and titles of your own. You would practice by taking out some lesser captain's and their crews, claiming bounties and training against Haki-users to develop one of your own.

When you finally feel ready enough to begin picking off members of the Red-Hair pirates, Shanks immediately would sense a game is afoot. He would start off by having his sharp-shooter constantly be on guard and ready for you. That would be fine, you'd trained your body to work tirelessly. Had Yasopp? The closure of his eyes and the slow rise and fall of his chest would state otherwise.

Although it would be far easier to take out their Doctor or their Chef first, your eyes would immediately draw their focus to the first mate. What is a pinky toe to the whole body of a crew? Why should you devote your time to such digits, when you had a window to take out Shanks’ right hand first?

As you'd disguise yourself beneath the shroud of Beckman's shadow, your shock would be adamant when a slow chuckle rattled in his smoke-riddled lungs. As you’d elevated your dagger, readying your blade to strike him in the back, he'd speak up.

“So this is the one that was left behind?” he'd sigh drawing up the filter end of his cigarette, placing it in his lips, “The Kid-Pirate that stood up to their Captain. Left behind for showcasing nothing but loyalty.”

You'd halt your plunge, feeling Beckman’s Haki begin to ignite and compel your body to bend to his will. You'd shake it off, readying yourself to dive forward and take out the larger man once again.

“You took his arm,” your dark, venomous confession would ignite a small amount of fear in the base of his spine, “You mutilated my crew.”

“Aye, that I did,” Beckman would confess, a man of honor amongst invoking such violence, “But you were left behind. Are they really your crew if they left you so easily?”

“They loved me,” your reflection would cause your heart to flutter, and lip to quiver.

“Or did they think you too weak to carry out the task?” his ignition of the flint-lock lighter would break you from your trance, eyes narrowed and glaring at him as he would turn to meet you.

“I don't think you're weak,” Beckman’s confession would have you stumble more, not anticipating praise as your blade now met against his wide chest.

“And why should I care what you think?” you'd spit at him, drawing your body closer as the threat of your blade made its steel kiss the pectoral above his heart, “You're the enemy. You hurt him, my crew, and you deserve death.”

“That may be true,” he'd confess, leaning against your blade to test the resolve of your threat, “But you deserve so much more than abandonment in response to your loyalty.”

“You deserve a crew that would have you'd back,” he'd continue, “A crew that would seek to train you up, uplift you, and never forsake you.”

“I suppose you mean ‘your crew,’ Beckman?” you'd snarl, your resolve beginning to crack and scatter, “I would rather die.”

“Join us. Learn from us, then leave us,” he'd suggest, “Return to your former captain," he'd exhale a long breath of smoke away from your face, "See if they're worthy of having you as their family, or if you'd rather stay with a new, more respectful, one."

Tldr: Eustass Kid abandoned you, returning only when he was defeated and asking for your forgiveness. You didn't grant him forgiveness, but offered him retribution instead. Training for 3 long years, you had finally readied yourself to destroy the red-hair pirates. As you were about to invoke it, you were offered a place amongst the crew you swore you'd defeat. They want to train you to be better than them, a wildcard in a world of piracy.

#one piece #x reader #eustass kid #benn beckman #beckman x reader #kid x reader #concept #rambling thoughts

[mykoreanlove]

sleepy no more

The first rays of sunshine fought their way into your bedroom, tickling you awake from your serene slumber. You opened your eyes slowly, still drowsy from sleep. Strong arms were wrapped around you, holding you close to the warm body they belonged to. A giant smile formed on your lips as you realized whose body it was – Taemin’s.

You felt the joy expand in your heart, the excitement tingle in your lips and the butterflies fly in your stomach. You relaxed into his grip, reveling in the security and comfort it gave you. Seconds after you felt him moving his body, adjusting to the new position. His arms tightened around you, pulling you much closer to him. His plush lips found its way to your neck, placing delicate kisses all over it.

“Baby, are you up?”

Your heart fluttered again. Not only because he spoke to you in Korean and you understood what he had said, but also because he was loving to you like that.

Baby. Baby. Baby.

You were his baby, forever and ever.

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing his knuckles as you answered. You didn’t see his smile but there was no doubt that he was shining just as brightly as the sun outside.

“Turn around”, another whisper which made you feel goosebumps everywhere.

You shifted and turned, now facing him directly. His long, dark hair fell into his beautiful face, slightly covering his almond shaped eyes.

“Good morning, beautiful”, he whispered soundly.

By now you were sure that the butterflies spread throughout your whole body, capturing every cell with excitement.

“Good morning, handsome”, you replied sweetly.

Taemin broke out in laughter, his joy was contagious. You could have sworn that it was impossible to love him more, but you were wrong. Seeing him like that unlocked new depths to your relationship, deepening your devotion to him even more.

“You’re odorobol, y/n”.

You spent countless moments gazing into each other’s eyes and losing yourself in them, before Taemin’s hand landed on your face caressing you. You felt his sturdy fingers on your soft skin, tracing cautiously.

“Can I tell you a secret?”, he asked shyly.

You nodded curiously.

“When I wasn’t working, I used to sleep a lot. Did I ever tell you why?”

Images of his members picking on him for sleeping so much flashed your mind, but you never thought much about it. Surely, he had to be exhausted from all the hard work, right? You shook your head, encouraging him to go on.

“I was so overwhelmed by life back then, so… hurt. I didn’t know how to cope with all these heavy emotions, so I just went to sleep. Each time I fell asleep I got a break from all that. Finally, I got a break from being me.”

Heaviness arose in your chest as it was painful for you to imagine him like that. Your fingers clasped his wrist, signaling that you were there for him. Taemin’s sad eyes lightened up under your touch, feeling your immense love for him in every moment.

“Ever since I met you, y/n, I don’t feel like that at all. I couldn’t wait to go to sleep and escape reality but now I hardly ever want to go to bed. Unless, you know…”, he laughed sneakily.

You slapped his broad chest and hid your face ashamed, as racy images of last night flooded your mind. Taemin’s chest was vibrating with laughter, making it nearly impossible to stay serious.

“Hey, look at me”, he tilted your head up, gazing into your eyes deeply.

“What I wanted to say was, that I don’t feel like that anymore, y/n. All because of you. I don’t feel the need to escape anymore because my life is freaking amazing. You are amazing.”

You saw the deep adoration in his eyes, making you surrender to him even more. Taemin placed his lips on yours, kissing you gently before declaring his love for you.

“Finally, reality is so much better than my dreams. All because of you, baby.”

Swiftly, he got up and hovered over you, cherishing you with kisses all over.

“All because of you.”

#mykoreanlove #taemin fanfic #shinee taemin #taemin shinee #lee taemin #taemin #taemin x y/n #taemin x you #taemin x reader #shinee fic #lee taemin smut #taemin smut #taemin imagine #taemin oneshot #taemin angst #taemin scenario #taemin drabble #taemin fluff #taemin fanart #taemin boyfriend #shinee x reader #shinee imagines #shinee angst #shinee scenarios #shinee smut #shinee fluff #shinee fanfic #shinee fanart #shinee lee taemin #taemin aesthetic

[gxthicwxrm]

maybe, if you do a part 5, I could see aegon and aemond PRAISING their pregnant wife like crazy.

Say It (Part 5) - The Heir

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader.

Word Count: 2,867

Warning: pregnancy, birth, blood

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Six

Authors Note: I'm so sorry this took so long to come out. I've been so busy with work and holidays! But I am back with a new chapter! I hope you all love it!

---

"I don’t care if it’s a boy. I hope you know I expect no duty regarding our children.” Aegon’s voice breaks through the silence, lifting his head from your lap with truthful eyes. His sudden admission shocks you. You have never discussed his succession, too focused on keeping our heads and the throne than on the future. His hands rub your smooth, swollen belly before kissing your bump. Smiling at you, he winks, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as heat fills your face at his affection.

“Nor do I, my love.” Aemond mumbles behind you with his chest pressed against his back while he leads against the headboard. The younger brother snuggles into your neck, closing his eyes as he takes in your scent. 

“I am glad because I’ve had dreams of a baby girl the last two moons." You confess, not understanding the weight of dreams for House Targaryen. "I was worried since we never talked about the gender of the baby.” Your mentioning of dreams sends Aegon flying from your lap, cupping your face while Aemond shifts, with you now sitting, facing them both.

“Dreams? What dreams? Tell me, sweetheart.” Aegon’s frantic words come out calm as his wide eyes look over you. Behind Aegon’s shoulder, Aemond silently nods, wishing to hear the answer his brother asked.

“Please,” Aegon begs, making you giggle at his sudden desperation. Nodding, you explain your dreams to them.

“It’s always in flashes, never a whole thing. It's just flashes of red, green, and black. Most of it is just a blur of colors. But some images are more clear.”  You admit both of the boys’ eyes widen as their imagination begins to go wild. Red. Green. Black. The two men share a worried look before turning back to you. 

“Go on.” Aemond encourages with a gentle smile. Your hand finds Aegon’s cheek while your other reaches for Aemond’s hand, who grabs yours with a smile. 

“Images of your mother running to me as I scream out. Blinding pain, then a loud, powerful cry. She is beautiful. Her eyes are as blue as your sapphire, her hair bright like the snow of the North. I don’t know how but she has a fire never seen before, unmatched by any dragon before her. I swear it to the Gods.” Finishing your description, you realize both of your husbands have tears in their eyes as they stare at you, jaws ajar. Aemond is the first to break from their trance. He shifts closer to you, leaning his forehead against your bump, kissing the spot above your belly button. 

“My fierce girl.” He whispers to your abdomen, eyes closed as he imagines a little blonde girl running around with a makeshift stick-turned-sword, training with him. Reading to his little girl and teaching her how to control her dragon. Warm spreads through his chest as a tear slides down his cheek. Pulling away, he looks at Aegon and knows his older brother is thinking the same thoughts as Aegon’s eyes are bloodshot and wet.

“She will be the most loved and protected little girl in all the Seven Kingdoms. I will have the head of anyone who dares speak ill of her, my wife.” Aegon declares. Being the more emotional one, his feelings speak in extremes that you know are true. Your heart fills with pride as you look at these two men devoted to you and the baby in your womb. 

“I love you more than any star in the night sky.” You stare at them in total admiration.

Suddenly, the door to your shared chambers swings open, revealing Cole. A growl leaves Aegon's throat as he throws his sheet over your bare body. 

"What?" Aemond glares daggers into the man in the doorway. Cole shifts his feet uncomfortably beneath Aemond's cold gaze.

"The Hand has requested both of you in the Council room. It is of the utmost importance." Cole looks strong, but his voice quivers slightly. Aemond moves from behind you, keeping the sheet to your chest before pulling his pants on, followed by his shirt, while Aegon isn't convinced he is needed, so he chooses to stay by your side in the bed.

"Tell him it can wait until tomorrow. I do not wish to rule today." Aegon dismisses the knight, burying his face back into your stomach, thumb ghosting over the spot your daughter had her foot pushing against your stomach, making her shift closer to her father's voice.

"It is about Dragonstone." Sir Cole's words make Aegon still before pulling himself off the bed, pecking your cheek before putting his clothes on. 

"Fuck" Aegon mutters to himself while tying his tunic, turning to you with worried eyes.

"I'm sorry, my love. We both wish we could stay in this room with you forever. But we will be back shortly," Aegon pecks you once more. Aemond kisses your lips with a soft smile before he and Aegon follow Cole, who stalks down the hall. 

Loneliness creeps in as the room goes silent, only the thought of your dream to keep you company. Rubbing your stomach, you drop your sheet and move to your wardrobe, pulling on your slip before sifting through the fabric. Quickly, your eye in a gorgeous emerald silk gown with blue lace embroidery that Alicent had gifted you at Aemond's and your wedding. Refusing to call the maids, you decide to walk.  Slowly, you fix your feet into the dress, grab the shoulders of the fabric, and pull the gown up your body. Everything goes smoothly as the shift stops halfway over your bell when you attempt to put your arms through the holes. Sharp pain in your abdomen shocks you causing you to drop the fabric with your hands flying to your stomach. 

After a few moments, the pain subsides as you resume putting your arms in the dress. With a triumphed humph, you congratulate yourself for being able to dress without help at nine moons pregnant. However successful, you were exhausted when you finished adjusting your dress. Using the nearest places to steady yourself, you walk toward Aemond's favorite reading chair by your fireplace. 

Leaning against the firm cushion, you think about what could've happened on Dragonstone. Fear fills your chest when you think of the awful plan Rhaenyra could have stored for your husbands and children. You'd like to hope that Rhaenyra, as a mother, would spare your children, but you know Daemon would not. 

Another stabbing pain fills your stomach, no longer in one place. Involuntarily, a scream leaves your throat as you clutch your stomach in pain before it dulls enough for you to think. 

"Something is wrong." Your cry falls upon only your ears as you try to get up from the chair, moving towards the door as you lean on the wall. Finally, you make it to the door and fling it open before spilling out of it, catching yourself on the cold corridor walls. The pain stalls enough for you to limp your way to the end of the hallway before another crash of agony hits you, flinging you to the ground as you feel hot liquid snake down your leg. 

"The baby is coming." You wail as you frantically reach for the wetness growing beneath you. Your heart freezes when your hand returns red, fingers soaking with your blood.

"No." You whisper before two soft hands grab your shoulders. Looking up through watery eyes, you make out the infamous emerald green dress of Alicent Hightower.

"My love?" Alicent questions, confused eyes finding yours before her owe drifts to your bloodied fingers.

Her worried eyes immediately fill with tears before her saddened expression hardens. 

"Someone get the masters! What are you all gawking for? Move!" Her tone demands attention and urgency, causing the poor servants of the Keep to scurry off.  Turning to face you, Alicent's features are less harsh but scared nonetheless.

"Now, we need to get you back to bed. Maybe laying down might settle the babe. I'm sure you both are anxious to meet. Where are my sons?"  Alicent helps you to your feet, screaming at the maids while she guides you down the hallway you previously came from. Slowly, with tears down your reddened face, you try to walk beside Alicent but fail when your legs buckle underneath you as the stabbing pain returns. 

"Fuck." You scream as liquid gushes around your legs. Looking to Alicent, who kneels beside you, every ounce of bravery leaves you.

"I am scared." You whisper as the contraction begins to lessen its wrath. "  I don't think I can do this." Looking down at your swollen belly, you already felt like you failed the baby in your womb. 

"We never do, my Queen." She brushes the hair stuck to your face away before grabbing a black handkerchief from a maid with red hair and draping your head with a cool towel. 

"But, you are strong. You are strong, fierce like the dragon resting in your womb. You are a mother,  my dear. A mother of a dragon, so be one."  Another wave of pain washes over you, accompanied by immense pressure building. You knew you needed to push; your body was screaming for you to push. 

But you couldn't do this without your husbands, but you had no choice as the pressure became too much. Alicent guides you to get on your hands and knees, with a cool hand rubbing down your back. The older woman breathed with you through each contraction. The maester rushing into the chambers along with three of your closest maidens. 

"You may go now, milady." The older man nods to Alicent, who shoots him a cold glare, effectively silencing the man.

"I will not leave her side." She finishes, making the maester speechless. Her words fill you with warmth as you reach for her hand, which she quickly takes with a soft smile. The servant girls go to stand beside the maester who examines for any dangers.

"Everything looks normal, my Queen. But, your grace, you have to start pushing. I can see the babe. It's starting to come now." His words trigger blinding pain to fire back, immediately causing you to push as hard as possible. Screaming, your vocal cords vibrate in your throat as the pressure pulls through your core. A loud screech shakes through the Keep as tears fall down your face.

"You're almost there. You are doing so well. It's okay. Just breathe." Alicent coos as your grip tighten on her hand. Unflinching, the former Queen takes the pain and replaces it with a firm squeeze. 

Finally, the pressure releases as a wave of liquid that gushes out of you, followed by a loud, piercing cry. Relief looks through you as you hear your child cry. However, exhaustion settles into your bones as you drop from your position, leaning onto the wall. Behind you, the maester quickly assesses your baby before turning to you with a welcoming smile.

"Your Grace." He looks at you with a raised brow, a bundle of blankets in his hands. Silently, you extend your arms. Moving to you, he places the pile of fabric in your arms when two bright blue eyes stare at you. 

It's as if your world stopped at that moment. 

In your arms, your beautiful baby girl reaches up to you, and you reach back, holding her little hand in your own.

"Hello, my fierce girl. You're a fighter just like your daddies, aren't you?" You coo, your thumb rubbing her soft cheek before your heart breaks at the thought of her father. Looking up, your eyes find Alicent and Cole's, who look guilty as if they knew what you would ask.

"Where are my husbands?"

---

"We can't leave this land open. They will see that and ambush us. Daemon is smart; we can't underestimate him." Aemond explains, looking between Otto and Aegon. Aegon nods, agreeing with his brother, making Otto scoff.

"Daemon is an emotional child. He will do whatever destructive plan falls first into his thoughts." Otto dismisses the men before him, turning to sit at the Council table. 

"He's been at Harrenhal for six sunrises. People have seen Caraxes flying there. He's planning something, and he's willing to wait whatever it is out-" Suddenly, the Council door flies open, revealing a horrified maid.

"What is the meaning of this? That door remained to be shut and locked! No one to enter, especially without knoc-" Otto smacks the table, glaring at the girl.

"It's Y/N, your Grace. " That was all she needed to say for the King and the Prince to begin to follow her. However, Otto moves in front Of them, blocking the door.

" No one will leave this room until this matter is settled." Otto spats at grandsons. Silently, Aegon closes the distance between himself and the old man.

"And who is going to stop us?" Aegon's tone is murderous, alarming both his brother and grandfather. The two men eye each other before Otto quietly moves out of their way. Rushing down the halls, they heard Vhagar's roar pierce through the castle, vibrating the walls. She sounded as if she was in pain. Fear filled Aegon and Aemond as they rushed through the halls toward your shared wing of the Castle.

Coming to your hallway, blood pools in the entryway, smearing halfway down the hall. The sight causes both men to stop, looking at each other before they run down your hall before practically spilling into your room and falling to the floor.

"Oh my." Alicent giggles from your side as you lay on the bed, leaning against your headboard, rocking your sleeping daughter in your arms.

"Are you okay? What has happened-" Aemond stops himself when he sees a bundle of cloth in your arms and tiredness on your face. "Did y-" His eye trained on the white-haired child sleeping in your arms; he dropped to his knees in front of you.

"There's someone who wants to meet the both of you." A sob cracks through Aegon's lips as he moves towards your side. Alicent moves, silently leaving the room to allow you three peace with your new baby.

Your husbands take place on each side of you. Your daughter sleeps peacefully in your arms, swaddled in a pale green blanket. 

"She's perfect." Aegon whispers. "Hi. I'm your father. Hi." He smooths down her blonde hair before placing a delicate kiss on her head. 

"Yes, she is. She's fierce too. Fought like hell. A tough youngling." Your answer. "Just like her fathers before her." 

Smiling, Aemond wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. Instantly, Aegon leans on your side, laying his head on your shoulder as the three of you watch the sleeping miracle you made.

"Thank you." Aemond's voice breaks through the contentment, his eye never leaving the baby. With a soft smile, you press your lips to his cheek, lingering slightly before pulling away. 

"For?" You question, Tilting your head as you examine your husband's face for an explanation. Chuckling, Aemond finally turns to face you.

"For this. For you, for her, for us. Even for Aegon. None of us would be here if it weren't for you, my beautiful wife. So, I thank you for making me the happiest person in Westeros." Aemond was not one to share his emotions so openly with anyone, especially in front of his brother, but he pushed through to pour his heart before your feet.

Leaning in, you connect your lips to his, and his hand moves to cup your face before your lips pull away, foreheads still touching. Silently, you close your eyes and absorb him. 

"If I may? I feel the same, baby. I could never repay the happiness you have given me today, the happiness both of you have given me." He pauses, taking a deep breath before starting again. "She's everything I imagined." Aegon's rushed whispers, laced with so much love and care, fill your heart with joy. 

"I love you both so much. I'd be lost without you. I should be thanking you for giving me your love and time. For giving me this gorgeous girl. For it all." Tears fall down your cheek as Aegon wipes them away, kissing your cheek before laying his head in the crook of your neck.

"I love you!" Aegon whispers, holding your sleeping daughter's hand around his index finger. Aemond's hand supports her feet as she lays in the corner of your elbow, rocking her slightly. 

---

"I love you." Aemond leans his head against yours while your eyes slowly begin to fall closed. Leaning back into your husband's, the three of you find yourself falling fast asleep with your daughter safely in your arms.

Part six coming soon !!

#hotd imagines #house of the dragon imagines #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fic #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader x Aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader x aegon targaryen #say it series #say it part 5

[yrluvjane]

Frankenstien — send me a prompt and a character, and i’ll write you a blurb. (Could be sfw/nsfw)

Protector! James + James Potter

Lily is jealous that James has finally moved on and is with the reader and she tries to do something against the reader to get all the attention she had back, but her plan doesn’t works. (only if you're comfortable writing a "villainous" Lily)

James's life, once seemingly whole, shattered the moment he met you. He had only set out on a trip to retrieve a book for Remus, but when he crossed paths with you, his heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest.

Your sweet demeanour and breathtaking beauty enchanted James, causing a flurry of emotions to flood his mind. He marvelled at your gorgeous eyes as he attempted to retrieve a book from the high shelf, only to get struck with it in his clumsiness. He watched in silence, his lips curling into a delighted grin, as you kindly retrieved his glasses and gracefully pushed them back up his nose.

James was lost in a trance of wonder at the sound of your sweet, melodious voice as you introduced yourself. His heart pounded in his chest at the mention of your name, and he eagerly replied, "Hi! I’m Potter. James Potter."

Two months of dating led to the two of you becoming an official couple, and soon, you were head over heels in love. But as the days passed, Lily's name faded into oblivion. No more whispers or stares, no more pestering or attention.

James's infatuation with Lily waned, forcing Lily to miss the attention she had become accustomed to. She began to feel anger and resentment at the fact that James no longer treated her with the same longing and adoration he once had. With each passing day, James became more distant, causing Lily to feel a sense of loss and longing for the days when he would stare at her with his intense, loving gaze.

Lily's plan to regain her lost attention was already in motion, as owls descended on the school with packages and letters in tow. The rush of students vying for their deliveries caught the attention of many, and James's arm found its way around your shoulder as you shared a laugh with Remus.

Lily watched from a distance, feeling an intense pang of envy. She missed the attention James used to pay her, the spontaneous declarations of love and the overworded love letters. Nothing reminded her of her past romance with James anymore, causing her to long for the days when his devotion and adoration were focused solely on her.

And so Lily, desperate and determined, penned a false declaration of love, addressed to your name, hoping that it would grow seeds of doubt, mistrust and jealousy between you and James.

However, as fate would have it, Lily's scheme fell apart after just a week, the foundations of her plan crumbling around her as the truth came to light.

When the truth was exposed, James was understandably enraged. His voice rose high and angry, defending you and your honor in front of the entire school.

.

This is as much as I can go on this, I'm so sorry if this didn't turn out as you wanted <3 I always feel guilty whenever I villianize anyone; i am so so sorry but if you have another ask, I'll be more than happy to work on it 💙

#james potter #marauders era #james potter x reader #jane.500.cleb #james potter thoughts #james potter fluff #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #marauders headcanon #marauders #james potter imagine #james potter one shot

[the-darklings]

Hi, I absolutely adore tibyim I know lots of people have said it but you really capture dream so perfectly and I am loving reading the whole story and all of your drabbles. I also love your additional things like your playlist and Pinterest boards. The whole picture you paint is beautiful and I just wanted to let you know that. I know you are accepting some requests for drabbles but if you could possibly do one for dream saying “I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.” (From the Pinterest text posts for dream/wanderer 👀). Please don’t worry if not I just love all of your content for this fic, thank you for all you are doing and this whole story is helping me deal with a lot of personal stuff I have going on atm and I just wanted to thank you for adding some rays of sunshine into the world. ✨

pea-sized because i'm about to head off and shower. I've been a bit :/// these last few days, so apologies for the slower replies/interactions. not proofread. We die like Corinthian's lovers.

“I do not think you understand the… effect you have on me, Wanderer.”

Your mouth wobbles, resting agape while you process his words. It's rare for Dream to cut you off mid-speech—rarer, still, for him to do so with sudden, quietly fierce declarations.

"I was just talking," you mumble, your brows knitting at once.

"Yes, quite so," he agrees quietly, still peering at you intently.

Your mouth presses together this time, reading the small tells. Details you've come to decipher in him the way one may solve a puzzle. Dream of the Endless is near impossible individual to read. A tall, severe, often sullen paradox, unmoved in his iron-like convictions and stubborn ways.

Nearly, but not entirely.

Balancing on your heels, you prowl closer, your hands falling to rest behind your back. You stop right before him, gazing at him from beneath your lashes. A small, playful smile plays across your mouth, and Dream's chest expands with a silent, rather telling breath.

"And what effect may that be, Dream Lord?" you ask.

Your faux-innocent, coy question is met with a dry: "A highly vexing and a deeply distracting one."

Your mouth shapes a small 'o'. "Then I'll speak no words, offer you no smiles, and bestow no kisses upon you. It would be rather disastrous if I distracted one of the Endless so terribly. How selfish of me."

Dream's features ease slightly at your teasing, the tiniest of smiles edging across his mouth. "Most selfish indeed. But I'm afraid I will have to renegotiate."

"Oh?" you prompt with a raised brow. "Which part?"

Dream takes a step closer, and the space around you fills with him. The Dreaming, as always, moves with its Lord and cold night, dry books, and daydreams in their sweet, velvety softness wrap around you. An arm around your waist, a steadying body pressing into yours. Endless. With power, few could ever match.

"All parts," he replies.

Your smile widens, your fingers knotting in the lapels of his midnight coat. "Rather selfish of you. If Dream King wants a kiss, he needs only ask for one."

"Nicely, I presume?"

A small hmm vibrates in your throat, implication laid bare, and Dream's silvery, glowing gaze darkens. "Stardust..."

You slant closer, holding him by the lapels, and Dream's soft exhales kiss over your mouth. He leans into you as you did, his grip around you constricting, fingers knotting tighter around you though his features betray little of his internal struggle. You veer left at the last moment, just when heat grazes near your parted mouth, instead skimming your lips across his cool, hollowed cheek. You linger there, imprinting love and devotion there.

This close, Dream's exhale is shuddering, near pained, but it's hard to judge if it's frustration or elation or a wicked mix of both.

"Yes," you hum happily as you pull away, releasing your hold on him. "It would seem I do have quite the effect. I'll be sure to abuse it in the future. You can never escape my evil wiles now."

A deep, rumbling sound builds in Dream's throat. He sweeps his coat around you abruptly, and your delighted, knowing laugh is lost in the pockets of the universe.

You don't make it to bed. Not any tactile version of it anyway.

#the sandman #dream x reader #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #morpheus imagines #sandman x reader #the sandman netflix #sandman dream #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #sandman imagine #tom sturridge #fic: today i bury you in me #they're being like this and we're just letting them huh?

[miraclesabound]

That Hits The Spot

Summary: You wonder what Shoresy means when he tells someone he'll be good to them, and you get a demo.

Pairing: Shoresy/F!Reader, background Shoresy/Laura Mohr.

Notes: The lack of Shoresy x Reader fics baffles me, so I decided to add some enrichment to the tag! Also on AO3.

Warnings: Canon-typical language, mention of injuries, alcohol consumption, unrequited (?) romantic interest, Shoresy is NOT a licensed massage therapist

Tags: @pettyprocrastination @magpie-to-the-morning

"Hey Shoresy?"

"Yeah?"

"Got a question for ya." You're sprawled out on his sofa while he grabs a beer for each of you from the fridge. For once, the apartment is quiet - the others are out doing God knows what, and Shoresy told you he doesn't expect them back for hours. "Heard you say something to Laura Mohr and been ponderin' it."

Shoresy snorts. "Didn't your parents tell ya it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations?"

He comes over and sits down, and you grab your beer from him. "How can I not when you're declaring your eternal devotion for the whole stadium to hear, ya nut??" He's already opened your bottle for you, and you take a long sip.

"Nah, but really," you continue, "I heard you tell her 'I swear to God I'd be so good to ya' and I just...wondered what that actually meant?"

He shrugs as he settles into one of the side chairs. " 'S not that complex," he says. "Just, ya know, the standard stuff - foot massages at the end of the day, helpin' her with the kids, glass o' wine or hooch if she wants it...bein' present, you get it."

"I do," you admit. "Sounds fuckin' divine, in fact."

"Ya say that like ya don't have it right now."

Damn him, he's observant. "Nope," you tell him. "This old girl's gotta handle things on her own - which isn't easy when I've managed to fuck up my back and neck." You wince as you sit up. "Doesn't help that every damn chiropractor in this town is booked up."

"Maybe I can fix it?" Shoresy asks. "C'mon, make room..." Before you can stop him, he sits down next to you and has you turn your back to him. "Specific spots or is the whole column fuckin' with ya?"

"Neck, shoulders and lower back."

"Gotcha." He starts with your shoulders, huffing in annoyance when he feels the tension there. "Holy fuck, woman, you been sleepin' on a rock pile?"

You chuckle at his indignation. "Might as well - I think the bed at my place is older than I am."

"Swear to God I'm gonna kick your landlord's ass for that," Shoresy mutters, mostly to himself.

The idea of Shoresy getting protective over you makes your stomach flip - he's never talked that way before. To avoid analyzing that feeling, you crack a joke: "Less vengeance talk and more spinal realignment, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah...lemme just...." He digs a thumb into a sore spot and you yelp.

"Shoresy, what the fuck!"

"Cool your jets, 'm tryin' to find where the actual muscle pull is..." He keeps poking, and you're about to stand up from the couch and shove him away when he lets out a noise of triumph. "Found it!"

"You're full of shit, man, I- oh!" Your protest cuts off as you slump into him - the sudden lack of stiffness in your shoulder makes you feel like a popped balloon.

He makes sure to catch you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. "Told ya I could fix it. Want me to get the rest?" You nod, and within five minutes, your whole back feels better than it has in ages.

"How ya feelin'?" he asks as your eyes close.

"Fuckin' divine," you tell him. "I'll give Laura my endorsement for you first thing in the morning..."

You drift off on his chest, so you don't know if you actually hear him say "No rush..." or if it was just your imagination.

#shoresy x reader #shoresy spoilers #shoresy

[mara-tevith-solo]

To End The World For You

I couldn’t resist sharing. Enjoy the fluff!

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x named Valyrian/Eldari reader

Warnings: It’s fluffy, it’s angsty, its Aegon being an ass to a whole ass child, declarations of devotion and love, first kiss, Daemon is his own warning and always shall be, I don’t make the rules

Words: 1.3k+

Rated: 18+

You weren't really even thinking, all you knew was that an adult had slammed a child onto the table with glee. As he leaned down to whisper taunts into Lucerys's ear, you scruffed him, your hand clamped onto the back of his neck hard enough to make him yelp. Hauling him off the much younger Prince was easy, he made it easy as he put his hands up in immediate surrender "Though it seems my nephews are not quite as proud of theirs!" Aemond announced loudly as Alicent scolded him, swinging his attention back on the Princes that were scuffling with some guards, before his eye landed on you and Aegon. There was something to how he glared at you in that moment, something that settled a cold pit in your gut. It was no secret that he had no love for his elder brother, but that didn't mean he'd appreciate someone embarrassing the drunken lout.

"Wait." Daemon ordered as Jace got free and charged forward, his presence alone settling the fires of dragon tempers as he all but stared the dark-haired Prince into a quick submission. Aemond's focus remained on both you and Aegon, not even flickering to his uncle as you fought that gnawing pit until it was unbeatable. You begrudgingly forced Aegon down into his seat, an act that wasn't hard in itself, and went to stand by Rhaenyra, pointedly not looking at him.

"To your chambers, all of you. Now!" She ordered her children firmly, not sparing a single one from her disapproval as Daemon set his sights on the tall Prince who had started the whole upheaval. Daemon didn't have to say a thing, instead just settled in place with a sigh, one that made the Prince back down with a hum and leave entirely, swaggering all the way out the doors. "Elanna, make sure they actually go to their chambers." Nyra asked tiredly with a wavering attempt at a smile.

You felt shame for contributing to her stress as you bowed your head "Of course, Princess." You wove as much apology as possible into your tone before leaving, steps quiet and measured.

Once you were sure the children were where they should have been, you made your way towards your own chambers, wanting to turn in for the night, but a snatching hand from the darkness had another idea. You were pulled firmly against a strong chest with an arm pinning both of yours down like a vice, the offending hand clamped firmly over your mouth "Shhh." He hushed directly into the shell of your ear, a smile on his voice as he held you against him. You had no doubt he could feel how your heart thundered in your chest "Are you going to scream?" Aemond asked softly, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh of your ear.

You shook your head the little bit that you could and waited patiently as he released your head, his hand joining its fellow in keeping your arms pinned to your sides though you weren't struggling "What are you doing?" You breathed, willing your heart to slow and relax.

"I wanted to speak with you." He murmured, relaxing his hold when he realized that you weren't going to bolt or struggle with your newfound freedom.

"Forgive me, but you could have just sent for me, Aemond."

"I wanted to speak privately. The Keep has eyes and ears everywhere and I did not want to be overheard."

"Well than," You hummed, unable to refute his point "Lead the way." Without another word he took you by the hand and began leading the way to some unknown destination, his footing sure and steady even in the dark. After many twists and turns and breezy back corridors you arrived at his chambers, a fire already crackling in the fireplace, front door firmly locked as the hidden door you'd used closed silently behind. "What was so important that you had to kidnap me, my Prince?" You teased lightly, goading him for answers. "If this is about Aegon, I'm not sorry." You added as you moved towards the fireplace, trying to remain outwardly impassive, to not let him glean your inner thoughts.

"I know you're not sorry for protecting Lucerys from my brother. I would never ask you to be." He dipped his head as he sat down in a comfortable chair near the fire, motioning for you to take the other one that was close by "I wanted to continue our conversation from yesterday."

"What about it do you wish to continue?" The chair was almost too comfortable, making you want to sink into it and fall asleep right there, even with your boots still on.

"The High Maester was able to point me towards a most fascinating book about Eldari mythos..." He paused, turning his attention from the fire to you "would you like to share in what I've learned?"

"Since you're tempting me with knowledge, I'd like to learn."

"Eldari do have Soulmates, or Luvai, as they're called. There's no single way to know if two people are Luvai, but there are mentions of several ruling pairs finding theirs by combat."

"Combat? What, is trying to kill each other romance to the Eldari?" You couldn't help but joke, suddenly uncomfortable because you had fought, you fought hard and yet it was more like dancing.

He pinned you to your seat with a knowing gleam, knowing that you already had suspicions of what he spoke of "There was one pairing, a much beloved King named Imarys who's Luvai found him on the battlefield. Spectators all said that it was like watching two lovers dance, neither gaining ground or strikes against the other--"

"You think we're Luvai because our fight ended in a draw." You weren't quite looking at him, instead staring into the flames, trying to smooth the swirling hurricane of thoughts and emotions in your head.

"In part." He admitted slowly, nodding his head with a deflating sigh "Though it is more because as soon as our eyes met I was enraptured by you. I knew I'd never want another."

"Aemond--" You tried, standing from the seat because it was all starting to feel suffocating. What was worse? You had felt it too, though you hadn't recognized it until that moment. Not in all the times you'd been around him, not during the glare at dinner. But certainly there, in that chair, and it was frightening.

He was to his feet as soon as you were, eye wide with concern and fear as it searched yours "I mean every word, Elanna. My devotion is yours. My sword, my heart, my mind, all of it!" He was pleading with you, wanting you to understand that he was completely serious.

"You are a Prince!" You cried, trying to make him understand just where everything stood.

"And Ethell, the Luvai of Imarys, was common born." He argued firmly, closing the space between you and taking hold of your hands, his hold gentle and unrestraining as his thumbs brushed over your knuckles.

You sniffled as tears you'd been unaware of fell onto your joined hands, your mind running wild with impossibilities, of tradition, of the refusals you'd face. "Even if Rhaenyra agreed to the match, your mother would not. We are on opposite sides of this cold war, Aemond, and I do not know if we could survive it if it becomes worse."

He let go of your hands and cupped your face tenderly, brushing the tears away with his thumbs as he searched your eyes "You are mine, and I am yours. The Gods have made it so, and only they can undo it."

You sniffled and placed your hands on his wrists, just under his thumb joints, feeling his pulse under your fingertips, letting the steadiness of it reassure and calm you "Only the Gods?" You asked softly, seeking reassurance as you stared into his eye.

"Only the Gods." He swore before pressing his lips to yours with all the care in the world. Lightning arched with pleasure up your spine as lights flashed behind your lids, the feeling of his lips on your an unfathomable pleasure that made your head spin.        

#aemond x reader #aemond one shot #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #dragonrider reader

[feyhunter78]

Hey lovie!! It’s been a while😁 I was wondering if you could write something about Elrond taking care of the reader after they had a long day? Like they come home completely exhausted so he daws them a bath, washes their hair, and is a total sweetheart?

Hey babe!!!! I've got a little something short and sweet for you, I hope you like it!!!!

Long Day W/H Elrond HC

Your day has been awful. All your hard work was ruined, you spilled ink on your clothes, and you’d been so busy you didn’t eat anything until you were already starving and miserable. You trudge back to you and Elrond’s shared chambers, already undoing your complex braid and wishing you could just fall into bed and sleep.

Elrond looks up from his book when you enter, a bright smile on his face that quickly fades into a look of concern as he takes in your exhausted form.

“Oh how cruel the world is to dim the light of its most precious star.” He laments, standing quickly and pulling you into his arms. “Who has upset you, my y/n, tell me and I will do all in my power to set things right.”

You lean into his warmth, burying your face in his clothed chest, breathing in his comforting scent. “I have merely had a long day, husband. Everything that could go wrong did, and it all has become too much.”

Elrond cups your cheek and brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Rest then, my starlight, I will draw you a bath.”

You start to argue, telling him it’s wash day, and that it will take longer than normal considering your hair.

He shakes his head and guides you towards the bed, urging you to rest and wait.

You lay on your shared bed, and before you know it, you’re gently lifted into the air. You wake and rid yourself of your ink-stained clothing before slipping to the bath. Laying your head back, you let out a sigh of relief, the warm water soothing your tired body. Elrond begins to wet your hair, careful to keep the water out of your face.

You both sit in silence as he washes your hair, oh so careful not to get soap in your eyes or tug your hair. You hum in delight as his blunt fingernails massage your scalp, and soon you find the stress of your day melting away.

Once your bath is done, you dry yourself off and change into your nightclothes. Elrond lays close to you, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed against him. “I am sorry the day has been so cruel to you, my starlight.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses to the plains of your face, each one a silent declaration of his devotion.

You tilt your head up, so your lips can meet his. “It is better now, with you.”

He smiled into your shared kiss, one of love and gentleness, that tasted sweet, and made your heart feel light. Elrond always had this unexplainable ability to make the world disappear when he kissed you. As if his lips could stop and start time, keeping you both locked in a perfect moment for as long as you remained connected.

 Elrond broke the kiss, whispering how much he loved and adored you, how he wished he could take away all that which made you sad. You did the same, expressing how much you loved him, how much you appreciated and valued him.  Then you finally fell asleep feeling refreshed and whole in your husband’s arms, ready to face the next morning, knowing he would always be there to comfort you when you returned.

Click here to the beautiful moodboard @emmyspov made for this little fic of mine🥺💗

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace

#elrond x reader #elrond x you #elrond x y/n #elrond rop #rop elrond #young!elrond #young elrond #young elrond fanfic #rop #rop fanfiction #meg talks with the rop babes #thanks for the request! #I hope you like it!!! #meg's writing #rings of power fanfiction #elrond peredhel #elrond headcanons

[lorei-writes]

Halcyon Among Hills

Chapter III: The Gambler

Arthur x Reader Alternative Universe "Mystery" Premise: The death of your great-grandfather comes with an inheritance hefty enough to pay off your family's debt. While dealing with the financial matters himself, your father sends you to your great-grandmothers estate, to properly show your gratitude... However, things aren't quite the way they should be. Word Count: ~700 Masterlist

Content Warnings: none

“Great-grandmama, perhaps one ought not to be this harsh,” you interject, hoping to smooth the situation out… Although you begin to regret your words before they even fully leave your mouth, the grin on Arthur’s face leading you to believe he has been waiting for just that.

“Sweetheart, could you pass me the honey?” your great-grandmother asks. Although pruney after years of being submerged in living, her hands are still steady, long wrinkly fingers elegantly bringing a cup to her fuchsia lips. Her eyebrows arch in contentment as she takes a sip, pigment painting a kiss across the porcelain rim. “Although… On the second thought, no thank you,” she giggles. “Arthy knows how to brew his tea finely, I must admit.”

“Why, of course. Ma’, is your memory alright? You keep forgetting that much,” the man replies, light cast by oil lamp reflecting in the shiny leather of his Oxford shoes as he taps his foot in mock annoyance. “I may get deathly offended one of those days.”

“You, Arthy? Impossible. Impossible, I say. Or should I rely as much to the children?”

The man, Arthur, lifts his arms in a gesture of defeat. “I don’t work at the parish school anymore, Ma’. Let’s not bring the children into this — Earl Grey is for adults, you see.”

Your great-grandmother shakes her head, conceals her smirk with another sip.

It’s been hard to wrap your head around this evening. From the hostility of the butler, to the delight of your great-grandmama, all through the very figure, the very cause, at the centre of it – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – and his jaunty quips, none of it seemed to form a coherent whole. You cannot let your distress show, however. You simply cannot, so you clutch at your cup and put on a smile, and listen you will, for listen you must; for you are a guest, and…

“Although I suppose our missy is already of age? Ma’, you’ve never mentioned such a lovely guest would visit.”

… and you are not prepared to talk.

“I’d never say a word about her to a rascal such as yourself.”

“Rascal? I?! Rascal?!” Arthur theatrically clutches at his chest. “You wound me.”

“Great-grandmama, perhaps one ought not to be this harsh,” you interject, hoping to smooth the situation out… Although you begin to regret your words before they even fully leave your mouth, the grin on Arthur’s face leading you to believe he has been waiting for just that.

“See? Let the little lady decide,” he exclaims, both amused and amusing, before turning to face you properly. “Now, luv, what qualities would you look for in a man?”

You wish to be swallowed by the plush couch and bottle green velvet pillows lining its backrest. “Well… It’d be lovely if he was patient.”

“Ha! And I am —”

“Haven’t you just said you quit?” your great-grandmother notices.

“ — was a teacher, at the local parish school.”

“And it’d be nice if he had some wits about himself.”

“Ah, a heroic type then?”

“An intellectual, much rather. Somebody able to hold a conversation.”

“An interesting one, I presume?”

“Yes, unlike this one. What other point would be there in conversing?” you question the reason behind his inquiry. You prop your hands on your hips, suddenly feeling rather invested in the talk. Whatever he may be insinuating, you —

“Some ladies would rather listen to poetic declarations of endless devotion.” Arthur sets his cup down on the glass table. He rubs his hands together, few wayward strands of hair intruding on his eyes. There is no need to brush them back, however; his gaze is as clear as spring water, as sharp as a surgeon’s knife. And he points this scalpel at you.

“What would you say about a story then, hm? A… murder mystery, perhaps? Our cast is: an elderly couple, a young not-quite-nobleman, a gardener with a thing for sharp things, a wretched gambler of unclear past, and a lovely young lady who has never left her home town before.”

Your great-grandmother sighs as you look at her, not a word of aid being offered to you. Dumbstruck, you answer Arthur’s gaze. He laughs at your surprise… And perhaps you have not dreamt it. Something truly is not right. Where is the mourning? Where is the sadness, and crying, and flowers for the funeral, and… Thinking of it now, why did you receive inheritance when your great-grandmama is still alive?

“I am not sure,” you mumble out.

“What a shame. Now if you want it, you’ll have to tell it yourself.”

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @tele86 @rinaririr @queengiuliettafirstlady @ikesimpleton

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#arthur conan doyle #ikevamp arthur #ikevam arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen vampire #ikemen series

[lilac-vapor]

drabble #1

Rating: T

Word Count: 549

Pairing: Sebastian/Ominis

A/N: Was going to make a whole one-shot, but then I only cared to write the good bits

Slender fingers catch and hook each water droplet trickling down Sebastian’s chest. His heart is fluttering like a snidget, Ominis can feel it. A cold wind whips through the cavern, rippling the currents in the spring, and Ominis, goosebumps etching across his skin, burrows into his oldest friend. Arms, strong and protective and littered with scars only Ominis knows the stories behind, wrap snugly around him.

“It’s freezing in here,” Ominis whispers, words lathering their way along collarbones and shoulders.

Sebastian dips his head down, lips curling around the shell of a red-tinged ear, and replies, “Then come closer.”

Ominis is positively radiant amidst the moonlight peaking through the cracks and fissures, like some ethereal being sent to deliver unto Sebastian. With all the books, all the tomes, all the waxing poetic and brazen declarations of love and loyalty, he can’t possibly articulate how Ominis makes him feel inside. He wants to kneel before this man, pledge his life and his death, trail such devotions up the length of his ivory arms and seal it with lips unto lips.

It’s unfathomable because he also wants to grasp him by his impeccably knotted tie and smother him with tongue and teeth in front of the whole school. Secret him away to the Undercroft so he can rip it all off him and have him then and there. Over and over and over again, spent.

“I love you”

Ominis’ head shoots up, brilliant eyes searching for Sebastian. “You love me?”

“I love you” His back is so smooth compared to his rough, calloused palms. Sebastian links their foreheads, closing his eyes tightly. “I love you, Ominis.”

Hands, delicate and careful and forever good, caress Sebastian’s cheeks. “Then kiss me if you speak true,” Ominis demands.

And though Sebastian tries to be gentle, he simply cannot help his inhibitions. Ominis’ lips taste like a future he never thought possible and his tongue is a promise of peace and love and all the things that go in between. Then Ominis whimpers, a vibration sent straight to Sebastian’s core, and Sebastian knows that he is absolutely besotted.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian x ominis #sebinis #gauntlow