#V. Sympathy For The Devil

[abigailthedreamer]

Date Photos!

Oop- Weren’t supposed to see that last one,,,,:3

[mercless]

[endawna]

sort of a revisit of this .

hunger demons are characterized by a compulsion to consume everything they encounter, including other demons ( or spirits ). this makes them rare in the fade as other spirits see this possibility of being eaten and react preemptively before they fall victim to the insatiable appetite when one is allowed to grow in strength. often described as an aching want with teeth, they are believed to be a subset of and a more primitive, animalistic and instinctual form of desire . some argue gluttony and obsession can also be more powerful forms of hunger as they share similarities with the previously mentioned desire. there’s some debate of hunger being a corrupted form of curiosity, but this has yet to be observed. however, most can agree their volatile and impulsive nature demands utmost care as even weak hungers can prove deadly. they prefer ambushing their prey and striking quickly before teleporting out of reach. one strike by their long, razor sharp claws or teeth and you are in for a nasty surprise as your body quickly seizes and stiffens. these demons manufacture a paralytic toxin that’s present within their ichor. some teeth have a hollow tube like structure running through them that injects this toxin - much similar to snakes - into their target while the rest of the teeth get coated in this secretion from small pits on the inner mouth. however, this is not limited to their teeth. remember their claws? if you see hungers licking those talons, yes, it’s cleaning off the gore, viscera & blood from a recent meal but it’s also recoating them with said toxin. it is potent, but none are quite sure how long it lasts as any unfortunate victims are almost as rare as the demons themselves and none have regained their range of motion before unfortunately being devoured by these malignant creatures. horridly, they have also been shown to be capable of draining and consuming both the lifeforce and magic of an individual. as such, they prefer the blood and power contained within mages.

now, i have been lucky ( or unlucky, depending on who you ask ) enough to observe these demons in the fade and in the waking world. in fact, i have a great interest in their study. best being described as an emaciated humanoid with greyed, stretched skin and beady red eyes. elf like ears plunging downwards in a harsh angle. a mouth akin to a leech or lamprey. they are small in stature, possibly no more than the size of a child nearing the end of adolescence. multiple spikes protrude down the length of spine and follows a spindly tail that ends in a barbed point. hands ending in three long claws. shriveled skin over jutting, bony hips look as if hide pulled over a tanner’s rack. these are followed by digitigrade legs and rest on clawed feet. accounts of these demons vary and the pervading myth they look no different than shades is decidedly false and a sketch of them will be included on a separate parchment attached to this document. to me, they are a representation of this world’s failings to provide. ignorance and want. so, it surprised me little when i observed them to be capable of taking a human or elven form without possessing a host. though, this knack seems to be restricted to the more powerful and intelligent hungers.

[ scrawled author’s note in the margin of attached sketches ] if you a fool’s wish, beware in attempting to sneak up behind hungers! those tails are prehensile and effective stabbing weapons. possibly coated in toxin, as well. they likely already know you are there by the smell of your blood and the sound of your heartbeat.

now … what of hunger abominations? i pity the poor fools who fall under their possession. pity the situation first drawing this manifestation and pity the succumbing. many call these unions vampires or cannibals in living hosts but they are often found possessing corpses; creating fanged skeletons. some can even create werewolves, but those mostly are created by rage. classified as not having a true intelligence, many lesser hunger demons cannot distinguish between a living host and a deceased one and this is why many abominations are corpses. though, as i’ve hinted, stronger hungers can actually be quite clever and shown to be capable of reasoning; if kept well fed. if their appetite cannot be satisfied or assuaged, there is a rapid loss of higher mental function and they devolve back to base and animalistic instincts. many times losing the ability to maintain the host’s physical form in the process, if they were able to keep it in the first place. unfortunately, i have not come across many hunger abominations to fully study the changes they have on their hosts. such mergings are quickly disposed of as they cannot cope with the newfound senses and are driven mad. we know demonic ichor can be found in the hearts of possessed corpses, but what else? would they retain the paralytic nature of a hunger’s blood? questions i cannot immediately answer but remain somewhat hopeful in finding out in the future.

[ hasty words written in fresher ink continue under previous passage as if author could barely contain excitement. ]

ha! a hunger abomination has been captured and my acolytes managed to keep it alive. ambushed it while it was in the middle of feeding. there are so many tests and experiments i wish to run —

[ words abruptly end but are continued in a much neater and restrained script. ]

it is possessing a half elven male. appears to be mid twenties, but something is certainly off. much older than he appears? hunger keeping the host alive beyond its years? glamour? yes, there is glamour being used. the host is a mage, which was a surprise. at first glance, he looked as if any galavanting knight you’d see employed by a house and, strangely, we do know he was a member of that meddling inquisition. did they know an abomination was in their midst? surprised it was able to remain undetected. there is still something more unique about this possession. the demon is not controlling them from the fade and this is, in fact, a physical possession but those are not necessarily unheard of. no, something more is going on. [ … ] undeath ! the host was a corpse when possessed, but what’s strange is the soul still seems to be present. it is not just hunger residing in this body. how odd. it was hard to see at first. when consuming blood, it takes the lifeforce and power within to replenish its own and sustain the body. the glamour was to hide what was changed by death. those eyes ... blown pupils, glowing like candlelight. almost as if the soul was burning through them. fascinating. [ squeezed in between lines as an afterthought: a key to immortality ? ] there also remains the remnants of blood magic. i say remnants but the bindings are most certainly in tact. binding the demon to this body? certainly there were more fitting and available demons or spirits to bind to a corpse. quite more questions than answers. i will not try to surmise the significance and clear effort that went into this possession, but it seems this man was a sacrifice in a blood ritual. one that did not go as planned? no, too much speculation. need to remain focused on the experiments. blood was taken from subject and now we have control of the abomination. we will make use of the few slaves available for research purposes. draws less attention to this old tomb - din'an hanin ? - then trying to capture a few dalish hunters or orlesian soldiers separated from the main group.

fascinating! absolutely fascinating! it can 'lose' the shape of its host but i have never seen an demonic form so ... deliberate. most abominations turn into utter monstrosities of twisted, mutated flesh. tumor like growths covering, limbs barely functional ... not to say hunger's form isn't monstrous, but it is a perfect amalgamation of bodies. retains a largely humanoid shape of the host with added features of hunger's true form and it is much larger than both. ten feet tall? greyed skin, stretched thin. ribs visable and stomach sunken in. what was most unexpected was for it to sprout wings. here, we discovered a sensitivity to sunlight. how odd! the webbing between the wings shriveled and burned when it came in contact with beams filtering through the crumbling roof of the tomb. it avoided the light at all costs and reacted as if in pain. need to look more into this... the tail was little less of a surprise as hunger demons naturally had them in their true form, but this one was noticeably more reptilian. carus pointed out there was a draconic quality to this abomination and i have to concur. was this host a reaver? could the demon be drawing - or trying - from the power of dragons blood? anyways, the mouth lost the leech-esque quality but is no less animalistic. a split runs vertically down the middle of lips and it is no longer able to close the mouth shut properly. teeth were replaced by jagged fangs with the canines being the longest. pits secreting the toxin line the upper gums. five fingers instead of three, but they end in sharp blackened claws capable of rending flesh. behaviour of licking said claws is still present. we set it after a test subject to see how much the demon altered the physiology of the host. convulsions and paralysis in victim. though, something to note is hunger seemed less inclined to ambush tactics while possessing this host. instead, it attacked so directly it was hard to even notice the toxin having its affect. next will be dissection, we cannot afford to feed this thing all of the slaves and i fear we are playing with fire ... some of the other members are getting restless.

[ more sketches attached but this time of the hunger abomination's form. some have intact wings while others demonstrate the damage sunlight did. ]

regenerative properties of this abomination have been cumbersome to work around. overwhelm the ability with damage it cannot entirely keep up with? quartering the limbs and severing the head seemed to work but thick, viscus blood was quick to ooze from the cuts and almost move with intent. demon attempting to reconnect the host’s limbs? allowed it to reclaim the limbs to see if such a thing was possible. turns out it was, but at the cost of the host’s vitality. the body certainly looks more corpselike now. amputation and decapitation was performed again, but this time intermittent sunlight spells were used to burn away the ichor before it could find the limbs again. i returned to the task and continued the vivisection. prolonged exposure to the light not only evaporated the blood, but also caused the flesh to start burning, even internal organs. a sensitivity to silver was also discovered, wish i had a dissection kit made of it. the host - demon - attempted to speak through the severed head but quickly devolved into hissing and growls. ghastly.

it occurred to me as i took blade to flesh of how much was left of the host. in personality and consciousness, i mean. does he know of the monster he's become? almost feel sorry for him. though, i find it hard to believe his mind hasn’t been consumed. so, this could very well be a mercy. from the state of the blood, this possession was not a recent one ( very curious how it managed to pass itself off in the inquisition ). it is entirely demonic ichor. which is good as it can be used for more experiments and poison making. need to harvest as much as i can, they are still complaining.

[ handwriting is light and messy as if written in a rage ]

fools! imbeciles! someone ate all of the food reserves! that was meant to last us weeks! we cannot afford to leave or send anyone off to hunt! carus says im being unreasonable and i think him to be a fool for allowing this in the first place. i set him to the task of finding who did it. his breathing felt like irritating whisperings in my ear. fool.

[ a notable change in legibility, giving the impression of written by shaking hand ]

i locked the door. carus is yowling and banging on it. telling me to reattach the head and limbs. cant, not done. the research … but im so hungry.

[ last entry in the blood soaked journal belonging to the venatori mage, lovita agorian. ]

[c-schroed]

My fav moment at the 97th Academy Awards:

French singer Camille gets her Oscar handed over by no one else but Sir Michael Philip Jagger. To which she reacts with the only logical bird call:

Perfect moment. Thanks a lot.

[crowsandmurder]

Clay Morrow Tags and Verses

Clay  ✖ (Aesthetics)

Clay  ✖ (Thoughts)

Clay ✖ (Character Development)

Clay  ✖ (Crack)

Clay ✖ (Headcanons)

Clay  ✖ (Photos)

Clay  ✖ (Starter Call)

BIOGRAPHY

Clay Morrow was born in Sacramento in 1949 to Clarence and Kathleen Morrow. His parents had not been expecting to have a child, but his mother had been thrilled. She tried to provide him with a loving home, whereas his father was a World War II vet, who tried to teach him that he needed to be hard, responsible and needed to love his country. Clay wasn’t sure about serving in the military at first. He often found himself wandering around the streets of Sacramento, in his teenage years. It was then, that he developed his love for bikes, specifically Harleys.

His father made sure that he signed up for the draft, but Clay was happy to not be sent to Vietnam, right away. He’d just bought himself a Harley and he wanted to be out on the road. After his mother died of Pneumonia right before he turned 18, his father turned to the bottle, repeatedly telling him that he’d never amount to nothing, spending all his time on his Harley. Not longafter that, he packed up his belongings and with just 100 bucks in his pocket, he headed out on the road. It was then that, he learned how to do odd jobs, settling for a bit in Lodi, where he worked part-time in a mechanic shop, cleaning up. The owner took him under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know about fixing cars and his bike.

He was settled there for quite some time, before he went back out on the road. He felt most at home, not settling anywhere. Out on the road, he met up with John Teller, and he wound up riding with him and Piney Winston, along with six others. It wasn’t long before they started calling themselves the First 9, as the Sons of Anarchy were created by John Teller and Piney Winston. Clay was one of only three people who had not served time in the military, and some of the older guys, who did their time, made fun of him about it.

In 1969, Clay was sent to Vietnam and became part of the Army Airborne, serving time until 1972. Upon his return, he reconnected with the Sons of Anarchy and continued to ride with them, a little harder, after his time in Vietnam. In 1977, it all changed. While the guys all had women they hooked up with, JT had found himself a young one. She looked barely legal to him, but she was hot. He had definitely looked, but he knew that she had her eyes on JT. After she got pregnant, they all settled in Charming, California.

Clay was not that impressed with Charming, of all places. It just lacked anything, really, in his opinion. It was small and nothing interesting seemed to happen there. But, they had acquired a good amount of land, and that was when he and JT decided to open the Teller-Morrow Shop. They were both good at auto repair, and as time went by, Clay knew it would make a good front. Once the business got going and the clubhouse was up to his standards, Clay decided that Charming might not be so bad, after all.

Over the years, things began to become less about brotherhood and more about what they had gotten into. In the late 80s, Clay and JT went with fellow member, Keith McGee, to help with trouble that had arisen in Keith’s hometown, a suburb of Belfast. They had gotten into trouble with the IRA, and that was when Clay saw opportunity. He started pushing for the gun business back home, and he knew that JT was hesitant, but Clay was not going to give in. Once they got back, he’d managed to convince most of the guys. This could bring in the money. Clay took advantage of the fact that JT seemed to be not as focused, and he used it to his advantage.

As time went on, Clay noticed that JT seemed less focused on Gemma, even when their youngest son died. He could see that they were both broken over it, but to him, JT had become weak and unfocused in Clay’s eyes, and he had no problem anymore, in flirting and eventually starting an affair with his wife. He knew that John was not stupid and knew that he was sleeping with his wife, but he flat out didn’t care. After JT was killed in a motorcycle accident, Clay took the gavel, arguing that Piney was too old, to do so.

He went to prison a few times, usually for gun running charges, but it didn’t take him long to marry Gemma after JT’s death. While JT had tried to handle things more diplomatic, Clay had no problem spilling blood, if it suited him, which happened more than once, during the war against the Mayans.

Clay was always someone who did whatever it took, to get what he wanted.

VERSES:

v: fuck the system | FIRST NINE

Time Period:  1968 - 1993 Clay is asked to join the Sons of  Anarchy, goes to Vietnam, Is patched in upon his return and is committed to the club in a variety of ways, one of which being pushing for the gun business.  He’s also responsible for a lot of the murders during the Mayan War.  As John Teller started to lose faith in what they were doing, Clay started taking advantage in many ways, which included bedding his wife and likely sabotaging his bike, to kill him.  Faceclaim:  Cam Gigandet for the 60’s - 80’s, then Ron Perlman

v: sitting on top of the world | PRESIDENT YEARS (Pre-Show)

Time Period: 1993 - 2008 After the death of John Teller, Clay became President of the Sons of Anarchy. He continued to get them deeper in guns, resulting in a number of fatalities, and all sorts of problems.

v: it ain’t easy being king | SEASON ONE

Clay tries to run the club the best he can, with the ATF breathing down his neck, the whole time. 

v: nobody threatens SAMCRO | SEASON TWO

Clay faces new challenges, as Jax starts to challenge everything he does, due to him knowing how Donna Winston died.  That’s not all though, as he finds out later that his wife has been gang raped to send a message to him. 

v: you do what you have to do | SEASON THREE

After the Irish take Abel, Clay helps Jax do whatever he can, to get his son back. This includes traveling to Ireland, where Clay has to kill Keith McGee, another First Nine member after he betrays SAMCRO. 

v: paranoia strikes deep | SEASON FOUR

After Gemma tells Clay that Tara and Piney have the letters that could implicate him in John Teller’s murder, Clay does whatever he can, to keep the truth from coming out.  This also includes the downfall of he and Gemma’s relationship, and him losing the gavel. 

v: the whistler | SEASON 5

After Jax lets Clay live, he’s allowed to sit at the table.  He does his own scheming with the NOMADS.  Eventually, he loses his patch and is sent to jail for a murder he didn’t commit.

v: sympathy for the devil | SEASON 6

Clay spends his time in jail, before he is broken out and killed by Jax. 

v: fortunate son | AU

Anything that is AU falls under this verse

[mwahgo]

LOSER VIRGIN

— Trafalgar Law x Crewmate!Reader

[+18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+]

Summary: Law is a loser virgin and this is first time seeing a woman naked.

Word count: 2,914 words

Tags: P in V, unprotected sex, virgin!Law, fingering, mentions of masturbation, breasts fondling, examination table sex, begging, gynecology check ups

Mwahgo's notes: I read this one tumblr post where i think they head cannon law is a loser virgin and I agree :33 that man is a pathetic virgin. Also, feel free to point out stuff because most of the medical terms i used here are either from google or my own experience so if it’s wrong, please point it out so i can edit it :3 requests are closed for now since I wanna work on my own fics!

Shachi stepped out of the medical bay of the Polar Tang, knees shaking and he looked like he’s about to pass out, “So, how did it go this time?” Penguin asked, grinning smugly.

“I-It was worse.. ugh, Captain didn't have to be that harsh,” His knees buckled as he fell to the floor before Penguin started laughing at him.

“I told you, man, you shouldn't have ate that bag of sweets,” Penguin snickered, putting his hands behind his head.

“Oh but it was so delicious though!” Shachi whined as he plopped on the floor, defeated while Penguin giggled at his devastated reaction.

The Heart Pirates are currently having their monthly check up performed by their own captain and doctor, Trafalgar Law. And as a strict doctor, he recommends his crew to stay in shape and be healthy to being able to fight well and not catch the sickness easily. Law is a meticulous doctor, he gets into detail on what’s wrong with you and what you should do about it, so if he spots something unusual, it’s best to tell the truth than him forcing to use his devil fruit on you.

Speaking of being meticulous, Law does every medical examination under the sun, from general check up to getting your blood samples. He just wants what’s best for his crew, even if it takes too many steps further. He does accepts refusals if the crew doesn’t feel uncomfortable doing certain check ups, he doesn’t want to lose the trust from them so he respects their privacy.

As Penguin, Shachi and Bepo talked among themselves, you stepped in the hallway—yawning heavily before spotting the crew next to the medical bay, “What’s going on?” You asked with genuine confusion.

They three of them turned to you and greeted, “Oh hey (Y/N)! You’re just in time. Captain is having us our monthly check up,” Bepo smiled.

It took you a couple of minutes to understand the situation—since you obviously looked like you just woke up from a nap, you let out a small “ah..” before sitting next to Bepo, “Well, looks like I don’t have any other choice.. I don’t want the Captain to haunt me in my sleep,” You joked, making them chuckle.

“How come you never heard about the check up? Captain usually announces that prior,” Shachi wondered.

You shrugged your shoulders, but before you answer, Law steps out the medical bay—clipboard in hand, “Penguin, you’re next,” He called as he looked up from the clipboard, “Oh (Y/N), you’re supposed to be here 30 minutes ago,” He glared, crossing his arms.

You sweatdropped from the intense glare as Shachi and Penguin snickered at you, “H-Hehe… Sorry Captain, must’ve forgotten the memo,” You scratched your head in shame.

Law just sighed, “Doesn’t matter, you’re here,” He said, “Penguin,” He called strictly before heading back inside with Penguin following behind him.

“Well, me and Shachi are going now, (Y/N). Law asked us to do something around the storage room,” Bepo stood up from the bench and Shachi rose from the floor.

You pouted, the thought of being left alone as you wait for your turn for the check up. Shachi and Bepo just looked at you with sympathy as theybid their goodbyes to you before leaving. You sighed sadly as you swing your legs in boredom, waiting for Penguin to come out and to be called for your turn.

Penguin finally got out of the medical bay with a bottle of medicine in hand as Law stood behind him, “Remember to take that every 5 hours, you can start later at lunch,” He instructed.

Penguin saluted playfully, “Aye, sir!”

Law just sighed as he turned his attention to you, “(Y/N), it’s your turn,” He ordered as Penguin left and you entered the medical bay.

The medical bay was quite large, with two examination beds in the center, machinery placed on the corner and some medical supplies placed in their own storage. You sat down on one of the examination beds as Law flips through your charts, “Have you been feeling sick lately?” Straightly, he asked.

You shook your head no, “Taking any medicines?” You shook your head no again.

“Any allergies?”

You shook your head.

“Is anyone in your family has some sort of sickness that can be passed down?”

You shook your head.

Law checks the boxes off your chart, showing that your completely healthy as he moves to some of the medical equipments on the table, “Alright, we’re gonna start your physical exam,”

Law grabs the stethoscope from the metal table and as he turns around, his eyes widened when he sees you zipping off the top part of your white overalls.

His cheeks blushed as he turned away immediately, “Y-You don't wear a shirt underneath that?” He stuttered.

You looked at him confusedly as you looked down to your sports bra covering your chest, “Oh! It’s because it’s too hot in this uniform and this is much more comfier,” You answered

The doctor just sighed as he puts in the earpieces on and placed the diaphragm on your chest. Quietly, he listens to your heartbeat—monitoring it as his golden eyes wandered downwards, ogling at your cleavage. Law wasn’t an open book to easily read, he tries to be as professional as possible but the sight of your plump breasts peaking through your sports bar, it made Law’s demeanor crumble. His cheeks blushed as he lost focus on listening your heartbeat.

“Captain, everything alright?” You asked.

He jumped slightly when you called him as he immediately pulled away the diaphragm away from your chest, “Normal heartbeat,” he said flatly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in Law’s sudden unusual behavior as the check up continues. Your captain checked your blood pressure, breathing patterns and tested your reflexes. After the exam, he busied himself checking some things of your chart—most of the test you came out either fine or negative so there’s nothing wrong with your health.

Law came back with your chart as you waited patiently for his results, “Well, all of your tests came out, no abnormalities or problems,” He flips through the clipboard, “So, obviously, you’re healthy, (Y/N),” He announced.

You smiled brightly, “That’s great to hear, Captain! Thanks,” Law dismissed you for today as you got off the examination table and left the medical bay.

The moment the door closed behind you, Law let out a sigh of relief as he glanced down at the raging boner through his jeans. Throughout the whole check up, he tried his best to hide the obvious tent between his legs, he tried his best to not stare at your at your chest but his thoughts yells at him, begging him to grab a handful of your soft breasts, how it feels in his rough palms.

Law knew to himself that he’s still a virgin—being focused on studying and travelling as a pirate, Law doesn’t have time to mingle around with women, he doesn’t reciprocate the flirting that some women give him and he gives off a very intimidating vibe. But back in his study room, he would often blush like a school girl over illustrations of breasts in an anatomy books or his cock would harden as he reads about the clitoris. Every night, after a few study sessions, he would masturbate at the images of a naked woman in those books. Law is not stupid, he knew to himself he’s a virgin who wanted to see a woman naked.

You, on the other hand, you giggled to yourself as you left the medical bay. Law may not be an open book to easily read, but his body gives hints of his sexual frustration. The obvious boner in his pants almost made you want to call him out, but you didn’t want to embarrass the captain like that. His red face almost made you smirk triumphantly, his walls crumbling just from the sight of cleavage and every bite of his lips made you want to tease him more. Law is a reserved man, but his body craves something more.

The next month, Law announced to the crew that there will be another monthly check up and ordered everyone to meet him up in the medical bay. As the others conversed to themselves about some recently changes they’ve been noticing, you have a bit of concern you want to address to Law regarding your health. After the crew had their breakfast, they split into groups—some went around the ship to do their assigned chores, some went to the control to manage navigation and the crew members who have nothing much to do, they went to the medical bay to meet up with Law for the check up. You were one of those people as you arrived to the medical bay, you saw Law talking to Jean Bart.

As the big man left, Law’s eyes met with yours as it widens and his cheeks blushed, “Come in, (Y/N),” He said, entering the medical bay with you following behind him.

Law started the check up with the usual stuff—checking your blood pressure, testing your reflexes and checking your heartbeat again. He examined your body for any abnormalities or bumps and so far you were doing good. As Law was checking your chart, you spoke up, “Uhm, Captain.. Can we do another check up?”

Law didn’t bother to glance but he was listening, “What is it?”

You fell silent for a moment, choosing the right words to ask him, “Uhm.. C-Can you do a check up for my.. private parts?” You stammered.

His breath hitched when you mentioned you wanted a check up for your reproductive organ. He never did that examination before since most of his crew members are male and they don't really mention a more detailed examination on them.

“I mean it's okay if you can't do it! It's just that I would sometimes get that check up—” Law cuts you off.

“N-No, it's fine. You’re concerned with your health so I’m here to assure you that you’re healthy,” He insisted.

Law instructed her (he tried his best) to take off her uniform and her undergarments and told her to lay down on the examination table. As Law turned around to start the check up, he saw your naked body laying on the table as his breath gasped. He felt his cock harden in his pants but he tries to hide his arousal and focus on the current task in hand. He approached your relax body and sighed, mentally preparing himself as his hands reached out and grabbed your breasts.

Suddenly, you let out a small whimper and Law jumped back, “What the hell? Are you okay?” He asked.

“O-Oh I’m sorry, you could’ve warned me that you’re going to start,” You said as Law sighed.

He continued the examination on your breasts—his hands feeling the soft flesh, looking around for some lumps or abnormalities while he lowkey enjoys being able to fondle your breasts. Then, his hands lingers downwards to your stomach, pressing it down to feel around for some lumps as well. His tattooed hands now descended between your spread legs as Law breathe shakes, his body buzzing in adrenaline and his eyes admired your cute pussy. He had only seen these on medical books and now he gets to touch them in person. He gulped nervously as his fingers grazed on your labia and your clit, inspecting if there are any signs of deformity. Every slide of his fingers on your labia makes your hips thrust up which made Law weak, thinking if this is your reaction if he fucks you hard.

His hand pulls away from your pussy as he grabs the lube and coated his two fingers, “… Are you a virgin, (Y/N)?” Law asked.

You shook your head, “N-No…” You answered.

Law hit a pang of jealously, knowing that you had someone before him but he disregards that idea as he went back to your spread legs, “I’m gonna need you to breath steady here, it might feel uncomfortable,” Law assured.

You nodded as he slowly inserts his lubed fingers in your pussy. Your lips let out small whimpers as Law almost moan at the feeling of your spongey walls engulfing his fingers, his breath hitches at the sight of his fingers inside you. He blinked back to reality—almost forgetting he’s on a medical check up right now as his other hand pressed down your abdomen so that he can easily feel around inside you. You took deep breathes as Law continues to press his fingers inside your pussy, feeling your around your vagina for any thing unusual but your small moans took away his attention as he glanced up to see your expression—your eyes closed and your brows furrowed as you try to suck in your moans, but Law’s fingers feels so good.

The doctor gulped as he pulled his fingers back before sliding them back inside as you let out your moans of pleasure, “Fuck.. Feels good, yeah?” He asked as the hand on your abdomen moved to your hips, caressing the soft skin.

You nodded as Law slowly fingers your pussy, “Yeah… Feels really good,” You whimpered, “Law.. Please, I want you,”

His golden eyes widened, “Wh-What?” He stuttered.

“I want you to fuck me, p-please. I know you’ve been wanting this, baby..” You bit your lip as your hips thrusts back on his fingers.

Law paused for a moment, radically thinking about the situation. Sure, he wanted to see a woman naked but it was all a fantasy of his, he didn’t expect it to make it this far. You were already willing—begging him almost to fuck your needy pussy and Law couldn’t refuse because he didn’t want you to feel betrayed.

Law nodded as he pulled out his fingers—you whined in the emptiness before he unbuckles his pants and pulling his boxers down, revealing his hard cock. You bit your lip at his size as your foot rubbed his sensitive cock, making him groan, “You must’ve been desperate, right Law?” You smirked.

He growled in annoyance as he coated his cock with some lube before positioning it on your pussy. You gasped as his cock penetrated your pussy and Law bit his lip—sucking in his groans as he feels the sensation of your pussy wrapped around his cock. He looks down and his knees almost passed out when he sees his cock buried deep inside you, creating a slight bulge on your abdomen, “H-Holy shit… Feels so good,” He whimpered.

You let out a small giggle as your hips grinded on his cock, “Please.. F-Fuck me Law, hurryyy,” You begged.

Hearing your pleas, he nodded and retract his hips back—leaving the tip of his cock inside before plunging in back as you both moaned in pleasure. He picks up the pace wanting to reach into you deeper, fucking you hard on the examination table. His hands grabbed your legs and hooked them on his arms, making his cock go into you deeper as you moaned loudly, “Oh fuck Law! It feels so good!”

Law panted heavily, “Y-Yeah, I’ll make sure to… fuck you real good,” He whimpered as his pace quickens.

The examination table starts to shake as Law took an aggressive pace, your skins slapping against each other as the sound echoes inside the medical bay along with your moans and his deep grunts. Law glanced down at your reddened lips as he leans down and kissed your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise but time went on and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer while he maintains his pace.

You pull away from the kiss, “O-Oh Law, I f-feel something!” You moaned, “I’m gonna cum!”

Law pushed himself up with his hands as he felt the tight knot in his stomach, “Fuck, (Y/N). I’m g-gonna cum too..” He groaned, “Can you cum with me, p-please?”

You almost laughed at his pleas as you nodded before you felt your orgasm hit you. You throw your head back as your moans escaped your lips and Law quickens his pace before cumming inside of you, his deep groans mixed with yours. His hips stuttered as his body plopped on top of your sweaty body as you both panted.

“Damn… I didn’t know.. you had it in you,” You teased your captain.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, too tired to argue, “Yeah well… this is the wrong time to say this but.. I kinda like you for a while,” He blushed, “… And I’ve been wanting to do this with you,”

Your eyes widened at his confession as you started giggling, “Well.. At least, we can do it all the time now,”

Law snickered as he leaned down and kissed you passionately—with you wrapping your arms around his neck and kissed him back.

[dollfacefantasy]

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers. 

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded.  "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm. 

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him. 

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him. 

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath. 

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

[nhmkhnh]

PAIRINGS: D0M!VI X SUB!F!READER

PREFACE: hit me hard and soft.

WARNING(S): EXPLICIT C0NTENT (MINORS & MEN DNI)

TAGS: mean/soft dom!vi ;; strap-on sex (r.receiving) ;; overstimulation ;; degradation + praise (?) ;; strap sucking ;; strap referred to cock ;; edging ;; mirror play ;; rough handling ;; mention about bruises ;; riding ;; heavy grinding.

01. “if you’re gonna cry, cry on my strap.”

you knew you fucked up the moment you made that bratty comment under your breath. something about her hands being all talk.

vi heard it.

vi always hears it.

she doesn’t say a word at first. just smiles—tight, slow, dangerous.

that kind of smile that makes your stomach flip and your thighs press together.

she drags you to the bedroom with a grip tight around your wrist, her jaw clenched, steps silent. the only sound is the zip of her gear being stripped off, and the clink of her harness dropping onto the bed.

“you got one chance to apologize,” she growls, clicking the strap into place. “but since you like to run your mouth so much, maybe i should just fill it.”

you blink up at her, still playing dumb.

and then she bends you over the edge of the bed so fast your knees buckle. your clothes? gone. her hand? gripping the back of your neck. her strap? already pressing against your dripping cunt.

"you gonna behave now?" she murmurs against your ear, voice like sandpaper and smoke.

you whimper something incoherent, still squirming.

“oh no, sweetheart. you’re not squirming your way out of this. not after mouthing off.”

she slams in all at once.

you scream. fistfuls of sheets. eyes rolled back. vi doesn’t stop—she doesn’t let you adjust. just pounds into you relentlessly, one hand pushing between your shoulder blades, the other tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed into the mattress.

“you like this? huh?” she pants, hips slamming against you. “you like being used like a fuckin’ toy?”

"y-yes!"

"too bad. toys don’t get to choose when they come."

your legs are trembling. the room's a blur. you’re crying—actual tears. but she doesn’t slow down.

not until you break.

not until you sob, “i’m sorry, vi—p-please—i’ll be good—just please—”

and that’s when she softens.

“oh, baby...” she coos suddenly, slowing to a deep, grinding rhythm. one hand strokes your back. the other slides between your thighs to rub your clit slow and gentle.

“you should’ve just said so. my good girl wants to come, huh?”

and when you finally do—screaming her name, collapsing into the sheets—she doesn’t pull out.

she leans over, lips against your shoulder.

“we’re not done yet, baby. you’re gonna take it again. and this time? you’re gonna thank me.”

02. “sit. open. don’t use your hands.”

vi doesn’t need ropes to tie you up. she uses commands. her voice is the leash. her gaze is the knot.

she sits on the edge of the bed, legs spread, still fully clothed in that goddamn tight black tank top and gloves, watching you crawl toward her.

“sit between my thighs,” she says, soft but unshakable. “open your mouth. no hands.”

you obey. you always obey.

she cups your chin, slow, like she’s inspecting a toy she’s about to ruin. her thumb runs over your bottom lip.

“you look so pretty like this. my sweet little thing. gonna take what i give you, huh?”

then she lets her strap rest on your tongue. just the tip. heavy. warm. slick with lube. and you swear—you swear—vi’s smirking like the devil herself when your eyes roll up.

“good girl,” she praises. “but you don’t get to control the pace.”

she holds the back of your head, guides you down inch by inch, until your nose brushes her belly and you’re choking around her strap. she moans. quiet. controlled.

then pulls you back, lets you breathe, watches your spit glisten all over the silicone.

“aw, messy already?” she coos, fake sympathy in her tone. “you’re drooling on my cock, baby.”

she does it again. and again. until your jaw aches, your makeup's ruined, and your thighs are grinding against each other from how badly you need to be touched.

but vi? she leans down, mouth brushing your ear:

“no cumming tonight. not unless you earn it.”

and when you whimper? she kisses your forehead, like she didn’t just wreck your throat for fun.

“you’re such a good girl for me,” she murmurs, stroking your hair. “now sit pretty and let me use you a little longer. that mouth belongs to me tonight.”

04. “lie back and keep your legs open. don’t you dare run.”

vi doesn’t just go down on you.

she claims you with her mouth.

the moment she has you spread out on the bed—naked, flushed, your thighs already trembling just from her looking—vi’s whole demeanor shifts. that usual cocky smirk? gone. what replaces it is darker. hungrier. almost... feral.

she crawls between your legs with the slow precision of someone who’s about to ruin you. big hands slide under your thighs, pushing your knees back until you’re fully open to her. on display. bare and soaked.

“god, baby,” she murmurs, eyes locked on your pussy like it’s her personal religion. “you’re fuckin’ dripping.”

you try to squirm—just a little, from the intensity—but her grip tightens.

“nope. stay right there. i’m not even close to done lookin’.”

then she dives in.

tongue flat, broad, dragging a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. you scream. your hips buck. but her forearm slams across your stomach to keep you pinned.

“did i say you could run?” she growls, voice muffled by your cunt. “be a good girl and let me fuckin’ eat.”

and she does.

messy. no hesitation. like she’s starved and you’re the last drop of sweetness left in the world. tongue swirling, lips sucking, moaning into you as if getting drunk off your taste.

she latches onto your clit and sucks hard, and you shatter. crying, hips jerking, fingers scrambling for the sheets.

she doesn’t stop. not even when your thighs close around her head. not even when you scream that you’re too sensitive.

“that’s too bad,” she murmurs against you. “you don’t come once and get to quit, baby. you come until i say you’re done.”

and when you finally collapse, soaked and overstimulated, she pulls back—face glistening, lips swollen, eyes wild.

then leans over you, smirking again.

“yeah,” she whispers, dragging her tongue over her bottom lip. “mine tastes better than breakfast.”

05. “if you wanna ride me, you better work for it.”

vi lets you ride her—but only when she says so.

you're already aching when she sits back on the bed, legs spread wide, strap standing tall, lube slick on the silicone and that teasing smirk on her face. she’s got her arms behind her, resting casually like she’s not about to absolutely wreck you without lifting a damn finger.

she pats her thigh.

“well? you wanna sit on it? show me.”

you crawl into her lap, thighs shaking, eyes wide, needy, soaked. you line yourself up, whimpering as the strap presses in, stretching you so slowly it hurts.

vi groans under her breath, watching every second. “that’s it, baby. nice and slow. take all of it.”

you gasp—hips twitching, desperate to sink down faster—but her hands snap to your waist.

“don’t fuckin’ move yet.”

her grip is iron. you’re fully seated, stuffed full, clenching hard around the strap and shaking with the need to grind, to ride, to move—but vi just holds you still.

“feel that? how deep i am?” she whispers, lips brushing your ear. “now show me what that pretty pussy can do.”

she leans back.

lets go.

smirks.

"come on, baby. ride me like you mean it."

and fuck—you do. your hips start moving in tight, desperate circles, up and down, chasing friction. every bounce slaps skin to skin, your moans getting higher, breath coming faster.

vi watches you like you’re the most beautiful mess she's ever seen. one hand rests lazily on your waist, guiding your rhythm. the other slips down to rub slow, cruel circles on your clit.

“good girl,” she pants. “that’s it. fuck yourself on my cock. make me proud.”

you’re whining now—full-body trembling, thighs quaking, drool slipping from your lips as your pace falters.

vi grabs your hips and slams you down.

“not done. you don’t stop until i say. keep riding. keep fucking riding, sweetheart.”

and when you finally shatter, sobbing her name, collapsing into her chest?

vi holds you close. kisses your temple. and whispers—

“you did so good, baby. but i think you can give me one more.”

[animusrox]

TOP 10

Past Lives

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

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Killers of the Flower Moon

MY LETTERBOXD Grade A 11.    The Killer 12.    Beau Is Afraid 13.    Dream Scenario 14.    Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 15.    Godzilla Minus One 16.    American Fiction 17.    They Cloned Tyrone 18.     Evil Dead Rise 19.    Eileen 20.    The Artifice Girl 21.   Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem 22.    Talk to Me 23.    Reality 24.    Leave the World Behind 25.    A Thousand and One 26.    Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One 27.    Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. 28.    Theater Camp 29.   Carmen 30.    Merry Little Batman 31.    Priscilla 32.    Society of the Snow 33.    Infinity Pool 34.    Enys Men 35.    Sanctuary 36.    Rye Lane 37.    Skinamarink 38.    Monster 39.    Anatomy of a Fall 40.    Landscape with Invisible Hand 41.    Reptile 42.    Sisu 43.    Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game 44.    No One Will Save You 45.    Tetris 46.    May December 47.    The Zone of Interest 48.    V/H/S/85 49.    Dumb Money 50.    El Conde 51.    Arnold 52.    Maestro 53.    Napoleon 54.    20 Days in Mariupol 55.    Influencer 56.    The Creator 57.    Origin 58.    Thanksgiving 59.    Next Goal Wins 60.    The Boy and the Heron 61.    Bottoms 62.    Wonka

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[darksonofsparda]

[{ 🗡️ }] - "So, what then? You just stay sitting there for all eternity, chained to a throne forever, all the while, these powers of yours create a series of portals that open beyond your control?"

He asked, just hearing himself say it only made it sound far worse, and it probably was. Vergil knew how it was to be bound by chains, helpless to whatever happened. How could anyone live like that? There was no way anyone could call that a life; it made him wonder just how long he had been like this. Vergil got the impression that it was for much longer than he had assumed.

Despite only just meeting this man, Vergil felt a slight pang of sympathy for him. Why exactly was he chained up in the first place, so heavily, too? Then again, if his powers were great enough to open entire rifts to other worlds, surely this eye-patched man had a significant amount of power within him, still being stuck in one spot for who the hell knew how long, Vergil would go mad, perhaps he could fix that. Maybe this guy didn't have to stay chained forever. First, he had to see if freedom was something he desired. But why wouldn't it be?

[{ 🗡️ }] - "....Such a terrible fate to have been dealt. Well then, how would you like to be free from these chains? My blade can cut through anything.. I cannot imagine how long you've been stuck like this."

Vergil wasn't usually the type to do this kind of thing, but because he knew the pain of being chained in multiple directions, he felt for this individual. A rare showing of sympathy, even meeting new people, his humanity had really changed his outlook on things. He remained his seemingly cold self, but this time, he actually could have the capacity to care, feel things a lot more when the situation called for a reaction.

[{ 🗡️ }] - "The choice is yours. Although I could never handle being chained for that long, let alone in one single place, unable to even shift postures."

@darksonofsparda continued

Luckily for half-breed and demon hunter nothing did step through portal rather something began to appear as he spoke. The portal became transparent allowing him to see a dreadful scene before them. What appeared was a small room no bigger then a living room in a perfect square shape. The room was pure black other then the ceiling that had specks of starlight scattered on it.

In the center of this room was large black throne. Strapped to that throne facing the portal was….a man. He was bound in what seem to be leather of some kind. Only his left eye and jaw were exposed to elements. Thousands of chains were impale through the throne and his body. The chains were rusted and hanging from them were old and yellowed paper tags with kenji written on them. The chains were hooked into walls of the room all of them were tightened.

"Well, death is old friend of mine so I accept it if does come for me. As for why I am here. I cannot control these portals my good man. They simply appearing because my powers are beginning to leak out of these seals. At least that is my current running theory. I do apologize for the intrusion upon you day. I would give you name but, I was never given one upon my birth. I have been going by nickname Nanashi if you wish to call me that...or I will aceept a nickname of your choosing." His voice was calm not ounce of fear or worry. Not even stress was in his monotone.

The 8th was taken in this man whole form. Even without his powers that were sealed. He could feel amount of energy coming off this man. He was curious to who he was but, didn't want to be rude to ask.

"I can explain more if you wish but, this portal will close...eventually if you have other business."

[abigailthedreamer]

The Night Carnival!

Based off the Hullabaloo map. Me and Antonio are on a date!

[johnwickb1tsch]

~*☆ M A S T E R L I S T☆*~

( most y/n fics are fem gender but [attempted] no real mention of specific appearance, race, body type) ... ✨️=COMPLETE! ...best viewed with goth rave or dark mode color palette 🤭

J O H N W I C K:

BITTERSWEET - Yandere!John x fem!reader coffee shop au All Chapters ✨️NOW COMPLETE!✨️ ☕️ AU spinoff ft Jack Traven & Tom Ludlow ☕ girl, resurrected - Jack Traven x Reader AU fic alternate ending ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) - John x Helen'sSister!Reader fic │ Part 1 │Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 A03 THE DEVILS' TRIANGLE - Tex Johnson x Reader x John Wick (x Constantine) Yandere Collab with the diabolical @treedaddymcpuffpuff & @sweetwolfcupcake *so many dead doves here be warned...* Original Imagine COVER Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5. Part 6 Part 7. Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

enigmatic stranger - young!john wick x fem!reader collab fic w sweetwolfcupcake & treedaddymcpuffpuff pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

bodyguard!Wick x shy!curvy!student!fem!Reader fic✨️

LESSONS IN ANATOMY - a yandere art professor Wick x model muse! reader AU chapter 1/->chapter map

The One With The Hot Neighbor Who Works For The Mob... - A Friends inspired shy!Reader x John short The Night Nurse - John x Helen - on hiatus bc my heart is fragile 😭😭😭 CH 1 │ CH 2 │ CH 3 │ CH 4 │ CH 5 │ CH 6 │ CH 7 │ CH 8 CH 9. CH 10. │ A03

john wick x reader x helen threesome imagine

John x Helen'sSister!Reader Imagine✨️

John Wick x Tarasov'sDaughter!Reader Imagine✨️

Constantine x Reader x John Wick Imagine✨️

Young!John Wick & Model!Reader Imagine part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4✨️

John x Wife!Reader Fix it Imagine✨️

gentleman john wick headcanon✨️

just a warm up drabble✨️

assassin!Reader x John Wick fic outline

When John Met Helen fic outline

J O H N C O N S T A N T I N E

THE GIRL NEXT DOOR- Constantine x Vampire!Reader (ft John Wick/BRZRKR) + Don John Fic ALL CHAPTERS ✨️COMPLETE!✨️-- BONUS: the deleted scene

young!Constantine x witch!Reader imagine in India Pt 1

Constantine x Vampire!Reader Neighbor Imagine✨️

D O N A K A M A R K

Sympathy for the Devil - Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic ALL CHAPTERS

rager. a donaka mark x reader x john wick oneshot. 6500 words.

business arrangement - a Donaka Mark x stripper!Reader AU - 3500 words

Donaka Mark x MartialArtist!Reader Imagine ✨️

Donaka Mark x Secretary!Reader Imagine✨️

T O M L U D L O W

EXCESSIVE FORCE - Tom Ludlow x Nurse!Reader collab w the AMAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff CHAPTER MAP

D O N J O H N

THE BASTARD'S MISTRESS - a don John x servant!Reader fic✨️

pirate don john imagine

J A C K T R A V E N

break me, softly - a Jack Traven x fem!NurseReader fic✨️

F R A N K

Vino Veritas - A Frank x Reader Destination Wedding Fic PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 EPILOGUE ✨️NOW COMPLETE!😛✨️ CHAPTER MAP

K E V I N L O M A X🔥

peep toe pumps - a kevin lomax x femSecretary!reader fic✨️

P A U L S U T T O N

Andar Conmigo - A Walk in the Clouds Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John Fic Chapter Map bonus: don john's charro suit ✨️complete!✨️

N E O

naughty neo x reader drabble✨️

T E X J O H N S O N

🌻Small Town Girl ~ a Tex Johnson x Reader fic (Donnie Barksdale mentioned) Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

D O N N I E B A R K S D A L E

US Marshall!Reader x Donnie Barksdale revenge fic snippet

S H A N E F A L C O

🐚🧜‍♀️⛵Shane Falco x mermaid reader AU

C O N O R O ' N E I L

oral agreement - you make a bet w Conor drabble 🤭

D R. J U L I A N M E R C E R

dr. julian is your gyno romcom imagine

G A B R I E L THE A N G E L

imagine

BOTS

-Donaka Mark - He's your security consultant.

-Donaka Mark - You meet on a yacht.

-Donaka Mark - He's your best friend's dad...

-Martin Loader - He wants to run away with you. (From Tune In Tomorrow)

-Dhampir John Wick (based on The Girl Next Door) He thinks you're his reincarnated wife Yelena...

****divider by strangergraphics thank you!!

[dinsbeskar]

Ran To The Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

...he was waiting

When all things must end, what does your heart tell you? And will you listen?

Sequel to Shelter In The Storm; finale in the series // AO3 Link incoming

Soundtrack: Through Glass by Stone Sour (I love an encore. We've used it before and I'll use it again!!), Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, When It's All Over by RAIGN, Sinnerman (Nina Simone's version is the best but also Iyeoka does a banging cover; this is where our title comes from), Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Ain't No Grave (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens

A/N: please enjoy the final chapter of Sauron and our reader!! It won't be the last I write of them, but it is their final story chronologically.

idek guys, apparently when the world is ending, these two fuck.

for real, all your support has meant so much to me, this fic has been a labour of love, ngl, and all your feedback and ideas and likes and reblogs have contributed so much, you have no idea. Thank you so much, I appreciate all of you 💜

Warnings: 18+ only!! Smut, angst, tiny wee bit of fluff?? Canon ending, kinda, gratuitous smut, like why are they tearing each other's clothes off now?? Come on guys. P in V sex, bitey!Sauron (man's vampire side kinda comes out in this lmao), blood, mark_me_down_as_scared_and_horny.meme, subterfuge, we moving in the shadows, canon death lmao listen I warned you (but it's okay!!)

Word Count: 5k!!

"I have to go, Mithrandir, my fate is his, remember?"

"It does not have to be so," the old wizard says sagely, knowing your mind is made up. "You have suffered enough, they will not have you share in his punishment too."

You nod, but your heart wants what it wants, and it wants him. It aches for him as it always has.

"Deep down, I think I always knew, regardless of any good I have done to outdo him, I knew it would be the two of us at the end." You won't cry, your tears are long spent, but something in the wizard's sympathy pricks your tear ducts, and you have to turn away.

"Don't tell the others. At least not until I am far enough away. They won't understand."

He grasps your hands, one over the other, and gives you one final approving nod.

"I will do what I can for you, Amarië."

You share one last sombre look, before you take off at a gallop, through the broken gates of Minas Tirith to your doom.

~

The tower is deserted. The entirety of Barad-Dûr seems to have emptied onto the ashen fields before the Black Gate, not a single orc in sight as you stroll right in.

You can feel him now, stronger than ever in the back of your mind.

Úthaessel... you hear your name as if on the wind, a breath in your ear, and you shiver. Long has it been since he has called you his temptation.

"I'm coming for you, husband, are you ready for me?" You cannot help but challenge him, now in the final hours of these dark days. They have to be, or all your suffering would have been for naught.

A large iron-wrought door falls ajar to your left and you pull it open with all your might. The corridor behind it is dark, but as if he heard you wish for light, the torches on the walls set ablaze all at once.

"Thank you, love," you mutter under your breath; the flame nearest you seems to flicker in response.

Now that you know he is here, a power still to be reckoned with, you are more nervous than you ever thought you would be. You grip your sword pommel, more out of habit than any thought of using it. After all, what use has a sword ever been against his sorcery?

The door at the end is grander than the rest, polished with refined edges that the other metalwork in the tower lacks. It more closely resembled something you'd have seen in Eregion, all those centuries ago. This is the one, you realise. He is behind it, and you have no idea what you will find.

Is he confined to twisted black armour, or perhaps something more wraith-like will greet you? You had vowed to him once that you would always want him, unconditionally love him however he came to you, and your heart aches in remembrance for those golden days when you could make such promises without any thought as to how you might be tested later.

Even as you stand outside, holding your breath like you clutch your sword in your hand, he plucks the notes of your soul as effortlessly as when you first met, unseen but perceived in the melody of your enjoined fëar.

You hold the smooth, curving handle for a moment, take a deep breath, and swing it open.

The walls are lined with bookshelves beyond count, and there is a tiny, softly-lit reading nook by the window. It is undisturbed, just as you left it when you undertook your journey with the Fellowship. You ache to sit down, to take a book and just forget. However-

"That is not the page I left it on," you smile, rolling your eyes. "You're getting sloppy, husband of mine."

His attention to detail is actually superb, but you can't resist teasing him for the tiny clues that immediately stand out.

"This cushion is more worn at home. I sit more on its left than the right, this one is practically new. I might have to take it with me when I leave." You cannot help but mock him, hoping for him to reveal himself.

"Somewhere a little more familiar then..." His dulcet tones startle you, as you feel hot breath on your neck; you turn around, blade at the ready, but hear only distant laughter in response.

As you get your bearings once again, golden sunlight streams in through large windows, cushions and blankets strewn everywhere as you once liked in your apartments in Eregion.

"I always liked that bed. Never did find one more comfortable, except perhaps in Imladris. I suppose you wouldn't know." You recall how he had always remarked on the softness of your bed, delighted in laying there for hours with you; twisting the knife about these lost centuries has the desired effect.

"So what surroundings would my darling wife prefer? Perhaps... ah-"

You blink and the room has opened up into a forest glade, rays of sunlight brushing your temples through the trees, rushing water at your back.

"Is this better?"

A tall figure wreathed in golden light emerges from the brush, and your heart wrenches, skipping a beat as it did when you first laid eyes on him.

He looks just as he did on that warm lazy evening, when the world was young and you were innocent.

"This is cruel, even for you."

He cocks his head and looks down at you, having closed the gap between you so swiftly you swear you had no time to escape him; that is what you tell yourself anyway, as his hand wraps around yours so sweetly, so delicious in his gentle touch, that you cannot break away.

"Never, never to you." Gods, he is so tender, he almost makes you forget why you are here, what is taking place right outside.

"Your cruelest torments were reserved for me, or have you forgotten?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he reaches out and tucks your loose hair behind your ear.

"We do not recall these past centuries the same way."

"We never did. What with you being a power-hungry megalomaniac."

His nostrils flare but his smile intensifies, chilling you in the most conflictingly delicious way.

"I promised I would never leave you, and I kept that promise. Even when you did not reciprocate." He almost seems to scold you, the smile never leaving his face but not quite reaching his eyes either.

"I ran across Middle Earth to be rid of you, but perhaps I was too subtle."

"I gave you everything, and you abandoned me!" He raises his voice in indignation, the first sign of a crack in his facade.

"I abandoned you because you gave me everything! The moment you made the rings, what little hope I had in us vanished. You gave me everything I never wanted, and once you put that ring on my finger, you robbed me of a life free of you."

His face hardens into an ugly grimace, an expression not entirely at home on the face he has chosen; never an unkind word was spoken between the two of you before you knew who he was. Perhaps that was always the problem.

"Everything I have done was for you. They are a pair, our Rings, you were meant to join me!"

"I wasn't talking about the two, but of the rest. You'll never learn! That by needing to control Middle Earth, it slipped through your fingers as if it were sand."

"The battle is not decided yet." His smug expression churns an anger in your stomach that spreads through your entire being, limb by limb, until you want to rail and scream and curse.

Instead you collect yourself.

"I thought you perceived all from up here. Do you truly not know what awaits you?" Now it is your turn to be smug.

That delicious tic in his jaw jumps again.

"The plot to destroy my Ring? How could I not, you've hardly been subtle, my love. And you forget a crucial detail." He says, taking your hand on which your gifted ring shines in the illusory sunlight.

"Subtlety was never my strong suit." You shrug. "And you're right. Though perhaps, my love," your tone becoming cutting, "you should take a closer look."

His smirk turns sour, becomes a glare of wrath, betrayal writing itself across his handsome features.

"When?" He asks, looking down at you, holding your hand so tightly it hurts. "When did you swap them out?"

"So you don't perceive everything then." You can't help but smile.

The final detail in your plans had worked. With Elrond's help and the gifts of his finest blacksmiths, you had managed to forge an exact replica of your Ring, smuggling the real one to Frodo before he split from the company.

"Keep it secret. Keep it safe." You had said to the hobbit all those months ago; it was imperative that no-one knew yours too was headed to Mount Doom.

You realise with a tinge of sadness that you would never get to thank Frodo for all of his trials in getting it to the mountain.

"You really didn't notice, every time we spoke. I was sure you would, was terrified in fact. That's why-"

"You weren't sleeping." His jaw is set and his eyes are hard; his anger is palpable now, you could cut through it with a knife.

"I was sure you would realise. After all, you did always have such attention to detail. I guess being trapped in a tower for millennia might drive one to distraction, though." You should stop mocking him, but all of your plans coming to fruition was too delicious a victory.

All the scenic trappings he has conjured disappear, and are replaced with a terribly familiar sight.

Dust and smoke fill the air, seige horns bellow outside, and the ground shakes violently. The razing of Eregion, the event that broke your relationship.

"Sauron, enough!"

His face twists. "I never liked the way that name sounded on your lips."

"I never liked the way it tasted."

Thousands of years have passed since this day, but you would never forget the ice cold fear in your veins, and the white hot shame of knowing it was your beloved who had brought your city to ruin.

Visions come unbidden to your mind's eye, memories of him rutting into you like a wild animal, uncaring of the battle outside, of who might see or hear. You remember telling him no, as your body screamed yes, as he delved into your mind, soul, cunt, and claimed you again and again as the battle raged on, until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, begging him to just take you one more time.

"They told me I had atoned enough for your sins; that I could be free of you. But I knew there was no freedom in Valinor that would taste as sweet as bringing about your doom myself."

"Glad to hear you still think of me, even as you avoided my attentions." His charming smile does nothing but infuriate you.

Well. Not quite nothing.

You cross the space between you, reaching up for him, his face already lowering to yours as you dance to the same beat you always have endured.

His lips on yours feel like a blessing and a curse, your hearts finally beating as one after an age apart. Your soul soars, entwined with his, your fëar revitalised simply by your proximity, by enjoining yourself with him again.

He groans, low in his throat, reaching for you, entangling himself in you, refusing to be parted from you once more.

Questing fingers slip under your waistband, one hand working to remove your belt as the other delves for the hot wet prize he has been denied for so long.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice reminds why you're here, why you haven't been here for an age, why you shouldn't let him ruin you again-

"I've missed you." His voice, low in your ear, sends arousal pooling in your core, a throbbing in your clit that you can no longer ignore, and you can't help but arch into him, pressing against him to kiss him harder.

He picks you up effortlessly, coaxing your legs to wrap around his hips, before slamming you against some solid surface that feels most likely like a wall, not that it matters now.

You're already stripped below the waist, you don't even recall how he did it, the urgent need coursing through the pair of you like nothing you've felt in thousands of years.

His fingers at your clit anchor you to reality, so in danger of floating away and letting him finally claim you as his Queen.

His eyes are black, dark veins in the sockets like the tendrils of his power that wrap around your heart and pull you to his will.

"You want this as much as I do." He murmurs, his teeth worrying the sensitive pointed tip of your ear.

It feels like worship, it feels like having the world in the palm of your hand, it feels like home.

Your eyes fall closed as he gathers your wetness, smearing it on his length, stroking it firmly as he takes you in.

"Look at me." His hand on your chin tilts your head to face him as you force your eyes open, fixing your gaze on his mouth as he licks his fingers clean.

"You've missed me." His self-satisfied smirk and heavily lidded eyes should irritate you, but it only drives you further into his arms, heat pooling in your core as you roll your hips against his.

"Of course I have. I love you, I miss you, I want you-" your desperate ramblings are cut off as he claims you, burying himself to the hilt, his teeth on your neck.

"Please... please, love." You don't know what you're begging for, your mind clinging to any semblance of logic and reason, but he knows what you want, has always known your deepest darkest desires, and loved you all the more for them.

His teeth on your neck sink into tender flesh, sharp pain giving way to bliss, rivulets of blood running red down your collarbone, his tongue chasing every drop.

The dull bite of his fingernails in your back mixed with the sharpness of his teeth penetrating your skin, the burn of his cock inside you, seemingly growing larger, harder with every thrust, as Sauron gives into his more bestial nature; after denying yourself for so long, one last time with your husband feels like paradise.

An age apart can only be satisfied by fucking you senseless; he needs to feel all of you, needs to you to feel all of him, needs to consume and be consumed.

Ever the wordsmith, but he isn't sure he could ever say it aloud, just how much he needs you, how much he's missed you; but you know because you feel it too, as your souls sing the harmony only the two of you can hear.

You can feel the tower shake, but perhaps it's only your husband's desperate thrusts inside you.

He's so focused on your pleasure, on taking what he needs from you, that for a moment, just a moment, his mask slips.

Your skin crawls, your limbs shake, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you.

It isn't that he isn't beautiful. He is, terribly so.

You were the first and only being to set eyes on his true form after the fall of Númenor, and it comes as no surprise now, but somehow you had forgotten, or blocked out, the striking nature of his appearance.

To look upon him is to know the sublime. Beauty and terror in one visage, dreadful to behold but captivating.

It is only for a moment, but it shakes you to your core, and he pulls away, leaving you breathless, your blood running cold in your veins.

"Love-" you begin to call after him but he turns on you, hand at your throat so quickly, so close to dragging you up the wall by the neck, your hearts racing.

"How can you call me that? After that- after what you just saw?" He growls into your neck, burying his face in your hair, nose at your jaw, anything but precious eye contact.

"Do you think me so fickle, so shallow, that I would be daunted by your darkness? I see you. After all this time, I see you, for what you truly are. No more deception, no pretty disguise. I promised you once I would never care what form you took. I keep my promises, love."

He kisses you hard, running his hand down your back, as the other grips your hair and pulls your head back, baring your throat.

"Show me."

His teeth falter on your neck, as your whisper reaches his ear. He regards you with as much softness as he can muster, letting his deception melt like iron in the forge, remade anew.

No pretty face, no gorgeous facade to hide behind.

You feel like your heart might beat out of your chest to join his, cold terror washed away by the heat in your core and the yearning in your heart.

He lets you drink him in, your fingers gingerly tracing old scars on his deathly pale skin.

"Is this what you wanted, wife of mine?" For the first time in an age, he sounds uncertain, a tiny tremor in his voice.

Anyone else might have missed it. But you know him too well.

You can only nod, melting into his embrace once more, drawing out the inevitable as he rolls his hips into yours once more.

A piercing shriek overhead, coming from somewhere close to the tower, distracts you long enough to gather your senses, even as he is wrapped around you, blood and fire and ash just outside.

"Surely you must know it is all in vain." You manage to choke out, his cock leaving little room for the air in your lungs.

"What do you mean, darling wife?" He draws back to regard you, still convinced of his triumph. "I see no victorious party yet. Half a day and your beloved free peoples will be under my rule. There is no will mighty enough to challenge me."

He angles his hips just right to make you see stars on every thrust, and before long, you're clenching around him, his own peak following yours in quick succession.

You're starved of breath but you lean your forehead against his and whisper, "Except mine. Even now, you are blind to what is happening on your doorstep."

His power was often difficult for you to use, to control, but you had centuries to learn how to wield it like a sword and shield. And a door opens both ways. With him inside your mind, you could step inside his, and use his Eye to watch for Frodo undetected.

His eyes widen as he realises far too late. He sends out his ringwraiths but it is for naught. The Ring falls into the fiery chasm from which it was made, and just like that, it is over.

He reaches for you, and without any thought of doing otherwise, you let him embrace you one final time as you both go to meet your fates.

~

When you wake, there is nothing. No up, no down, no light, no dark. It is, to say the least, disorienting. After a while in your own head, you begin to sense movement, glimpse shadows out of the corner of your eye, and some sweet song echoes far off, the like of which you have never heard.

A warmth begins to flow in your fingers, as you regain your sensation, sitting up slowly to take in your surroundings.

A hand on your shoulder warns you to take it slowly, and you look around, unflinching but curious. Whoever it is, they mean you no harm; somehow, this place feels familiar.

It takes you a moment, a century, you can't be sure, but your surroundings come into focus, and the being beside you helps you to your feet.

She is beautiful, like nothing you've ever seen. A sheer veil adorned with tiny shimmering crystals falls across her perfect face, making her appear as if-

"She who weeps." You exhale slowly, in disbelief.

Her smile is so radiant, you can hardly believe she is known for her tears.

"You would know me best of all. It's why I was chosen to greet you, to take you where you need to go." Her voice passes straight through you, soothing your aching bones, washing away your grief.

Nienna stands and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. Guardian of grief and pity, it is only right for her to meet you at the end.

"So these are the Halls we are promised after death. Shame." She looks at you questioningly and you shrug. "After all this time, I was hoping to see-"

You cannot finish that sentence. You have arrived in Valinor, you have been granted entrance to these sacred Halls, against all odds, and yet your heart still clings to him.

It is as if she reads your mind. She probably does, now you stop to think.

"You wonder of his fate." She smiles, a sweet mixture of understanding and sorrow.

"He is the other half of me. I cannot help but be pulled along in his current." Surely she must understand, cannot possibly judge you for your soul's basest desire.

"You can see him. If that is what you wish."

You stop in your tracks, your surroundings and present company all but forgotten, as you realise all may not be lost.

"He is here? But I thought-"

"He was destroyed. But it is impossible to annihilate such a spirit as Sauron wholly. Especially as he has an anchor." She looks pointedly at you, and a shiver runs down your spine; even after millennia of fighting him, he wasn't gone, because of you. "There is a shred of him left, and he has been asking of you."

Your heart sings; perhaps all is not lost, the other half of your soul anchored in purgatory waiting for you, holding on for you to join him.

"Where is he? I do not feel him?" The emptiness in your soul had plagued you since waking, but you had assumed it was because half of it had simply ceased being.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere he cannot exert his will. And if you choose to be with him, you cannot return here. It would be your fate as well, until the ending of days."

"Is it what he wants?" Ever the dutiful wife, if Sauron wishes to be left alone for all eternity, you cannot deny him.

"He needs clarity. You are his clarity."

You nod, weighing up in your mind whether he would truly want to be bound to you with no other company for the rest of his days.

"And what about my rest? Do I not deserve peace?"

"Would it be peace without him?"

It is not a difficult decision.

"Take me to him."

~

The wonders of this new land stun you as you pass through them, never to see them again. But there is no doubt in your mind that this is the right course.

Slowly all fades until there is nothing again, only soft song that ebbs and flows to a crescendo, that breaks upon your arrival in your new purgatory.

You look around and tears spring to your eyes, though you try to deny them. Golden sunlight, soft petalled carpet, endless forest greets you.

"We're back." A breathless whisper that none can hear now, for you are truly alone in this endless wonderland.

It doesn't take you long to find him, the familiar melody of his fëa calling out to you as it always has.

A large iron wrought throne sits in the middle of your glade where you'd first met, the sight jarring. Upon it he sits, almost deliberately lounging as if enjoying the rotten fruits of his labours. But you know different, and the second your gaze falls on his, the facade begins to crumble.

"They told me you were coming." Beneath his cracking exterior, he sounds utterly defeated, and despite yourself you feel pity for your beloved in such a sorry state; after all his evils and malice, he is trapped here in paradise, unable to weave his songs and spells.

"I had to see you for myself. I didn't believe it."

"Now you have. Take heart and rejoice, your king is overthrown." He tries for condescending disdain, but all you hear is a broken man.

You should not pity him, you know it is all for naught, that he deserves this fate.

But to be cut off from the Song is punishment enough. He does not need your wrath too.

"How can I rejoice? The only thing I can take heart in is knowing I have you to myself, for all the ages of this world." To you that sounds like bliss, after endless wars and malice, but you imagine that for him, it is probably torture.

A cruel final trick of the Valar, sublime in its judgement, equal in its share of heaven and hell.

"They said you did not have to stay. That you could leave me if that is what you choose." His golden eyes drop to the floor again, refusing to witness your rejection for the umpteenth time.

"I suppose I don't. But I did wonder what eternity would look like without you."

"This is hardly the paradise you deserve," he scoffs, casting his gaze anywhere but on you.

"It could be. If we are together, it will be." You kneel down, looking up at him, begging him to listen.

"You could choose any other fate, why would you stay here with only your broken husband for company forever? Eternity is a long time."

"That is exactly what I thought. Forever is too long a time to be without you. We've spent so long starved of one another, I can suffer that fate no longer. I choose you." The words tumble from your lips before you realise you had in fact made up your mind, as if your body already knows your decision and grew tired of waiting for the pair of you.

He refuses to look up at you, fingernails digging into the armrests, head hung low. He is sure this is yet another trick of the Valar, perhaps to taunt him with the promise of one good thing in his everlasting purgatory. The promise of breaking his master's curse in defeat, to have and to hold you until the end of days, sounds far too good to be true. Sauron, defeated, is not the man you married. Thankfully.

"I ruined you." He mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

You kneel before him, taking his hand in yours.

"You remade me."

"Not in the way you deserve." He looks up then, and his face is red, eyes wet and puffy; your heart aches, wrenches in two at the sight.

"But in the way I needed."

He gives a derisive snort and turns away.

"No, look at me." You turn his face back to you, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I would not be the person I am without you. You did that. For good or evil, I am yours, and you are mine. All we have is each other. If you'll have me now."

His face twitches, but he doesn't reply, fixing an impassive expression that gets under your skin immediately. After everything that he has put you through, he can listen to you now.

You grip his face urgently, softly, all at once, pulling him to really look at you, imploring him to listen.

"You swore to me once that you are my home. Do you remember?"

He sighs, a long exhale, before finally looking up at you of his own accord.

"Of course I remember. I remember it all."

"And I am your home? We swore, a long time ago, but it still holds, does it not?"

His face twitches, and his fingers flex as if to release themselves from their claw-like grip around the twisted armrests of his throne.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?" The moment the question escapes your lips, you wish to take it back.

At that, he looks up at you, carefully regarding you as if you'd asked him to reveal the secrets of the universe.

After what feels like eternity, he answers you.

"I regret losing you." His tongue forms the words as if through cotton wool, unused to expressing anything but surety, his will to dominate all but spent.

"I regret that too." You whisper, taking his hand in yours.

"Mairon... my love..." You can't help the tears that well from the depths of your heart, as you use his true name for the first time in centuries.

His breath hitches and he reaches out for you, tracing your cheek, marvelling at the glittering tear tracks on your skin, his illusion of neutrality finally broken.

"We have fought too long and too hard for this to be our ending." You pour all your energy, all your love and devotion into the bond the two of you share, hoping maybe he remembers the feeling.

"So let us find another one." Tears blind you as you speak, but to wipe them away would mean letting him go, and you refuse to do so; instead he does the job for you, cupping your face gently, wiping each tear away as they fall.

"I choose you," you whisper, emphasising every word, your heart swelling as his tearstained face breaks into the first genuine smile you've seen in centuries.

"I choose you. I always have." Your voice cracks as he pulls you to him, claiming your lips with such tender passion that you melt into his embrace, his kiss an answer in itself.

Finally you feel whole. For the first time in millennia, you are home.

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Feel free to ignore this request but I had an idea for a while - a childhood friend of Dante and Vergil who used to be a very sickly child (think of heavy anemia) and who became a half/part-demon due to painful experiments after Dante and Vergil's home was attacked.

Imagine Dante and Vergil reuniting with said friend years later, surprised to see how they changed (got new scars and abilities and such) and that they're a devil hunter now. Maybe even rekindling some old childhood feelings and such.

Maybe you could add V into this too, somehow, since he's a part of Vergil and probably has memories of said childhood friend.

Hope you have a good day!

I most certainly will, thank you! May you have a great day too!

Sparda twins + V x Old Friend!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante didn't recognize you at first. You looked so different than what he remembered.

-He was surprised, too. The last time he saw you, you were barely able to get around your own house, and now you were a devil hunter? A pretty capable one, too. He wonders what happened.

-Turns out you were forcibly changed into a half demon through experiments, and while your existence was an unclean one, you were far more mobile than you were before.

-He wasn't really sure how to respond to all that, though. He was happy you could do more things now, but worried that you might hate yourself for what you've become.

-That aside, he was having a great time reconnecting with an old friend, chatting about the past, present, and future.

-Dante quickly decided he was going to invite you to join him at Devil May Cry after your conversation.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was happy to see you out and about since he remembered how sickly and weak you used to be.

-He thought you'd just gotten better thanks to some miracle medicine or something, and never suspected you became a half devil devil hunter like him.

-Of course he questioned you, demanding to know how the hell that even happened in the first place.

-Learning of the experiments you had to go through made his heart ache for you--the first time it had done that in years. You never deserved any of that pain. Why did all the bad things have to happen to you?

-He promised to help you out if you need anything, which you thanked him for. The conversation then shifted to the good old days; for a moment, it was like Vergil was a kid again, sitting at your bedside, excitedly going on about his new favorite book because you were the only one who understood him.

-Vergil wants to hang out with you more, he wants you to hunt devils with him, he wants to start a book club with you; he wants to make up for all that time you guys lost.

● V ●

-V cannot fully remember who you are, but he recognizes you.

-He doesn't know why, but as soon as he laid eyes on you, he finds his head being flooded with memories he wasn't aware he had.

-After talking with you for a while, he deduces you must have been a friend of Vergil's--and a close one, at that.

-He cannot recall the details of your relationship, but he vaguely remembers that you were a very frail child. When did that change?

-You are surprisingly open about your past, quick to tell him all about the experiments that were performed on you, and what they did. You were a half demon now, though not naturally.

-V expresses his sympathy to your situation, but beyond that, there's not much he can do. At least you seem to be okay with it all.

[ktchie]

'Save a horse ride a cowboy'

Ted x reader

Fluff and smut

♡additional tags: smut, p in v, creampie, reader hates Halloween, Ted in a cowboy costume, a little daddy kink, She/her pronouns.

♤7.4k words

◇ she hates Halloween but maybe Ted can change that?

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Her dreaded day is fast approaching, the leaves scattered around the ground - brown and dry from the autumn.

A lone pumpkin, yellow and bright under the shying sun, glare at her from a stairwell of a random flat. Its triangle eyes, hollow from any emotion and sympathy seemingly bore into her as if telling her to submit to its command and the inevitable event that will happen 2 days from now.

She averted her eyes quickly, sweat dripped down her nape as she fasten her pace.

She hated Halloween more than any day there is, she would rather choose her family's dysfunctional Christmas dinner with 5 grown adults yelling at eachother and 3 crying children than be caught dead wearing a ridiculous costume that would tarnish her reputation and self image.

Contrary to Roy, she doesnt hate Halloween because of the loud children and their questionable attire that varies from appropriate character from a cartoon show or a superhero franchise and to some wierd and super inappropriate costume that would and will get a atleast 50 concern side eyes (like a nun smoking a tobacco or pope Francis with devil horns and blood pouring out of his mouth)

She hated Halloween because of her coworkers (mainly Rebecca, keeley and Higgins) and their insistent for her to wear a bloody costumes every damn year. Rebecca would email her and would ask her what she will be going as on the Halloween, the first few times it would only be an additional note, a passing normal interest at the month of October but as the day goes by and the 3rd week rolls around Rebecca's previous important email that is relevant to the well being of the club was replaced by a 5 to 10 sentence regarding the importance of Halloween and how essential it is, to both to yourself and to others, to wear a costume and to have fun. The email will come to her 2 times in one day, sometimes even 3 and in worst times even 5 (if Rebecca is really desperate or in a sour mood) which will automatically go into her spam folder.

And it is also widely known on Richmond that Keeley Jones goes a little unhinged whenever the month of October rolls by. Her energy seems to crank up to its highest peak when the autumn breeze finally grace her skin. So naturally, Halloween would be a BIG BIG deal for her. Massive deal. A deal the size of Asia and Europe combined. A deal that she, unfortunately, has to deal with too.

Keeley Jones, despite of having a own company of her to run, was quiet frequent on the Afc Richmond building. Always lurking on the hallway with her bright pink shoes and heart melting grin (in the normal month) however, when its October - Keleey's only destination is her own fucking office. She would burst in guns blazing and teeth bared with no knocking whatsoever and ask her (more like yelled at her) what her costume will be on Halloween, in which she would proceed to answer with 'none' which in return would make Keeley Jones fumed with anger and rant about her being no fun while calling her all kinds of creative names under the sun.

The two women was both amusing and irritating at the same time, she had to admit that their desperation to get her to celebrate the nonsense Holliday of the 31st of October was quiet funny in their own way. What is not funny however is Higgins..

Leslie Higgins, a man as gentle as a falling feather and whose laugh could light up the entire room, can actually turn into a 10feet tall demonic entity whenever he heard 'Halloween' and 'no costume' in one sentence. Maybe it has something to do with him being a father of 5 children, getting so used to dressing them up that it was downright ridiculous and criminal that she wouldn't. He would breath heavily like a bull whenever she say no and he would look at her in the eye and speak to her, though very calmly she could very well see the veins throbbing on his forehead, and would explain how important it is for her to dress up and to celebrate the day because if he wouldn't he would no longer talk to her and would rather die than be near her ever again (dramatic, but something tells her he wasn't lying)

So, in a desperate attempt to make him leave and calm down she had agreed, she told Leslie she's going to dress up and that he doesn't have to worry about anything else.

She's still deciding if she's lying or not.

She opened her front door with a sigh, the exhaustion visible on her tired eyes.

She had gone home more later than everyone else because of the heavy work load that she had let pile up over the last few weeks due to her avoidance to go to work and accidently bump into the monster trio.

She sat down on her couch before throwing her shoes somewhere in the room, groaning in pleasure as her back met the soft cushion.

The comfort of her own home enveloping her suddenly, all the tension gone from her shoulder and all the worrying thoughts of her work vanish from her head.

Then her phone rang,

"Goddammit.." she mumbled with a frown, head thrown back and eyes closed. She let it rung for a few second before reaching for it.

"Hello?" Her voice was groggy, a clear indication she was tired.

"Yellow!" Ted's voice were loud on the other side of the phone, awfully cheery despite it being late in the evening. "You takin' a nap? You sounds a lil' raspy, oh no I didnt wake ya up did i?"

A soft smile made its way on her lips, a smile only Ted could make. "Uh no, I was about to though. I just got back from work"

"You just got back?! Don't office hours end at 5?!"

"Got alot of work that held me back, I don't want to let it keep piling up on my desk like a leaning tower of Pisa"

"Darn, you must have a heck of a day" she hummed in confirmation before closing her eyes again. "Have you even had lunch yet? Ya didnt came in the locker room earlier, thought ya had lunch on your own but now I have a suspicion that you didnt eat at all"

She took her time to answer, Ted's voice bringing her comfort and making her a little drowsy. "Didnt eat lunch, im planning to order a pizza later for dinner"

"You sounds really tired, darlin' and listen, I know I ain't exactly the proper man to tell ya this but pizza ain't good for ya" Ted had replied, a hint of worry on his voice. "Pizza is a-okay once a week, but you been eatin' it nonstop these days, im gettin' a lil worried"

"Im not going to suddenly drop dead because of pizza, that will be a humiliating way to go out" she replied with a sigh, scratching her eye. "But sure whatever, ill have a cup of tea instead"

"I still can't believe y'all drink that sewer water willingly, you better eat something good with that garbage drink"

"I don't know what else to eat beside pizza if I'm being honest and I'm too fucking tired to cook anything else" she groaned and adjust herself on the coach. "I'll just have a big breakfast tomorrow"

"Are you tellin' me that tea is only thing you'll be having tonight?" he had stated, putting a harsh emphasis on the word 'tea' as if it was someone he wanted to kill.

"Am I hearin' you right, hun? Not only did you not eat lunch but you are willingly, without a gun to your pretty little head, going to drink that poop water and nothin' else?"

She laugh lightly and she desperately try to ignore the sick sick part of her brain that is telling her she looks like a giggling love sick school girl talking to her crush. "Yes Ted, im going to drink tea and only tea and head to bed. If you and a perfectly fine beverage have some beef going on, leave me out of it. I can't let you persuade me on hating our national drink and risk the Queen catching a whiff of my traitorous blood and shoot me in the head"

"She would do that?" Ted asked, genuinely afraid.

She chuckled "no, Ted. I'm fucking with you" she settled deep on the cushions, fully laying herself down.

"She'll hire a few men to raid my house and make my death look like a suicide"

"Oh well thats smart, but I prefer if you're alive and well"

She laugh a little "do you need something, Ted? Its quiet late, shouldn't you be watching some trashy reality show right now?"

"Oh it can wait, I can have coach beard summarize the love island for me tomorrow" he cheerily replied and some part of her are envious of him being so happy in such a tiring night. "I called ya because I wanna know what you'll be wearin' on Halloween night"

A glass shattered on the background and the small smile plastered on her lips fell as quickly as she can blink.

"Jesus christ, not you too" she groaned lowly, eyes closing not in exhaustion but in irritation.

"What? Just askin' cause im gosh darn curious! I asked boss what you'll be goin' as but she pulled a funny face and told me to ask you myself!"

She cursed Rebecca in her brain.

"What brought this on anyway?" She wiped her face with her hand with a sighed.

"Oh well our resident genius Nathan Shelby told me that Rebecca host the best Halloween party every year and it got me all kinds of exicted! 'Been awhile since I went to one of those, in college I always go to parties y'know? Even nonsense ones, I mostly went for the booze and the free food cause I was hella broke and I ain't got no money to even feed myself" Ted voice went down a little at the end, as if reminiscing the time where he couldn't even find a single nickle on his wallet. "So it got me thinkin' that I should really go all out this year, don't ya think so? My first party ever since I turned 30, I don't even know If I can still chug an entire jug of beer but we'll see"

"Jesus Ted, you sounds like frat boy" she grimaced lightly but a pleasant image of Ted wearing a backwards cup and a stupid grin on his baby face got her all giggly.

Maybe he'll let her do a body shot on him, lick the fucking salt on his neck and take him home to her flat the next minute.

"Oh I was a frat boy, alright! Got nothin' better to do in college than cause trouble and play football - y'know the one with a brown ball that looks like a wallnut? That football - though i didn't get to play much, coach said i was too giddy and too happy, that instead of making the other team annoyed i cheer them up, its crazy even Beardo said so. Speaking of Beard he was a beast back then! You should've seen him! You'll love him, he's always laughing and always loud, got in all kinds of bad troubles but he set himself straight in the end. I'm very proud of him"

She heard their story before from beard, or willis (he had revealed his name after weeks of nonstop questioning and obnoxious teasing) she had learned how they came to be Ted and Beard, how insufferable they were like two giggling school girls that had known eachother since birth. How beard became beard and how much an asshole (his own words, not hers) he was to Ted back then. He had told her the time he was sleeping on his couch, how his back felt funny and ache weirdly every morning, how he could map out Ted's house with his eyes closed and ears shut because of how much time he spent in there. How Henry felt so much like his kid, how he watch him grew up and how he had been there when the kid lost his first tooth or rode his own bike.

He owes Ted alot, he had told her. Said he would lay his down his life for him with no question ask and no hesitation on his mind. That Ted is kindest man he had ever met, that he see no wrong in someone even when its staring at him right in the face, even when his own friend stole the car he had been saving for since high-school and almost wreck it.

"Im sure you are, Ted" she replied, picking a piece of loose thread on her couch pillow. "I uh, I don't think I'll attend the party"

"YOU WHAT?!"

She quickly pull the phone away from her ear with a grimaced."Yeahhhh, I just don't really like partying"

"THATS A LIE! I KNOW YOU'RE LYIN' YOU KNOW WHAT? IM COMING OVER RIGHT NOW-"

"Ted im really tired-"

"And I'll make you more tired, don't you dare lock your door or I'll break it in I swear to god-"

She laughed lightly "are you actually going to come over? This is crazy Ted, and for what? Because I'm not coming to that stupid party?"

"IT AINT STUPID, YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" He breathed heavily and she hear a clang of keys followed by a loud thump and a whisper of curse. "-shit, bump my darn knee on the table. This is your fault"

"Im not even there, Ted. That's all on you"

"Yeah but you got me all panicky and annoyed, im comin' over there I'm bringing my left over pasta so you could put a decent meal on your tummy"

God she's so stupidly inlove with him. "Is it your famous spaghetti that you have been bragging about these past few weeks? I heard its good, keleey said its to die for"

"Quit being sweet to me, missy. I'm still annoyed and I'm still comin' over and once I get there we're goin' to eat my pasta and talk about your bad decision okay? Like a proper talk, like a therapy session Dr. Sharon and I been doin' these past few weeks"

"Do I have to cry and tell you my childhood problems and let you figure out how it connects to my annoyance on Halloween?"

"See? Youre already pro at this, just sit pretty and wait for me"

She chuckled lightly and stretched, yawning. "Are you really going to come over?" She had asked "Cause I think I'm about to fall asleep now"

"Ya can fall asleep once I get there and after we ate my pasta, m'kay?" Ted replied followed by a front door closing and being locked.

She blink sleepy as she listen to him "alright, ill wait for you"

"Atta girl" he whispered and she tried to ignore the heat on her stomach as he did so.

Ted arrived with a loud bang, her door hitting the wall so hard she thought it would bust a hole in.

"What the hell?!" She lightly yelled before laughing, watching as Ted pant with a Tupperware of spaghetti on his left hand.

"Sorry, god, wait gotta catch my breath first" he hit his chest a couple of times and cough a little. "Okay, sorry, got excited. But I brought my spaghetti!" He raised it with a large grin, dimple and teeth out and oh she wish  she could kiss him right there.

"I see that you did" she leaned on the marble bar of her kitchen as she watched him walked over to her, eyes ranking up and down.

God he looks good, how dare he?

"And I see that you're still sleepy" he grinned and put the tupper wear down beside her, looking down to meet her eyes.

"Gonna put you to bed, after our talk m'kay?"

"That a promise?" She blinked at him flirty, a sweet smirk playing on her lips.

"N-not that kind of put to bed" Ted looks panicky, flushing pink on her gaze.

"Bummer" she mumbled with a pout before straightening her posture. "Come help me with plates, let's talk while we eat yeah?"

"Y-yeah"

Okay, maybe her drowsiness is making her a little more bolder, more braver, more yearnful for what she wants. Makes her want to capture his very being on her palm and not let go until the sky fall from above.

She wouldn't flirt with him on a good day, wouldn't even smirk at him if she can help it. He's a recently divorced man who has eyes as sad as whimpering puppy, looking anything and anywhere with a kind of desperation you would only find on someone so despondent and so so alone. He wasn't available on the public market, wasn't meant to be courted when she knows his heart still depict someone's else image, she knows he loves Michelle, miss her everyday, and she knows deep on her bones she could not barge in roses in her mouth and poems on her hand and offer to take him out on a date he would never forget.

"Why is the spaghetti cold?" She asked with a frown as she took a bite, water on her side instead of wine because Ted insisted that she should drink something normal for once.

"Spgahti ish dbest win clmpd" she frowned and watched him hold a finger up before swallowing his food. "Sorry. i said spaghetti is the best when its cold"

"Well its not bad" she shrugged as she ate it. "So how's your day? Heard Roy got mad on Jaime again, per usual of course, but this time he was about to tear his throat out"

Ted nod his head "yes, yes, ill tell ya all 'bout it later but first were gotta talk about the Halloween party"

She groaned loudly, throwing her head back. "Must we do this? Really?"

"Yes, really" he wiped his mouth with a napkin before taking a sip on his water, she could not help but feel like he was about to question her every actions and decision as if she was placed under government surveillance.

"Its really not a big deal, teddy. I just don't like going to parties"

"No, no, I heard ya' goin' to bunch of parties before, specially new-year. You're lyin' to me"

Goddamit.

"Fine" she raised her hand in defense, tired. "Seems like I can't lie my way around here so ill give it to you straight.." she took a deep breath, dreading it. Ted watched her closely, brown eyes boaring into her own and if she wasn't sleepy and wasn't bothered by the topic she would mention how beautiful they are.

"I don't like dressing up"

He slam his fork down. "THATS ABSURD!"

"Wow I didnt expect that big of a reaction at all"

"You tellin' me, someone, someone I gosh darn know! Dont like wearin' costume on Halloween? Thats like- thats like worse than murder!"

Her eyes widen "okay thats a little-"

Ted nod calming down a little "yeah yeah, I know, a little dramatic. It ain't worse than murder at all, I was just-" he poke his heart. "Just lost in the moment AND ITS YOUR FAULT!" he pointed at her

She laughed lightly.

"It wasn't even that bad! I just don't like doing it, its perfectly fine"

"No it ain't! I have never met someone like ya before! People always like dressing up, doesn't matter how bad it looks, Halloween is for everyone, its the only day its legal to pretend you're someone else" he's slowly losing his mind.

"I get that and I fully support that but its just not for me" she explained, finally finished with her spaghetti and she had to admit it was pretty fucking good. "I have to say, you're a good cook i didnt expect-"

"NO! FORGET ABOUT THE GOSH DARN SPAGHETTI!" He pointed at her face

"Youre goin' to the party even if i have to drag your bum in there"

She whistled, eyebrows up and eyes a little wide. "Oh my, I didnt know you're into that"

"Shut it" he stated but the blush on his cheeks are apprent.

"Youre goin' that's final, wrapped your self in a toilet paper if ya don't got any costume, you just have to be there"

"You literally cannot make me" she shrugged, leaning on the chair with arms crossed. "Im not going to that party even if you have to put a gun to my head, I don't like Halloween, I don't like costumes and I dojt like candies"

"YOU DONT LIKE CANDIES-" he stop himself before taking a deep breath, controlling his emotions. "Its like, its like I don't know you at all"

"Ted we've been friends for like 2 years, of course you don't"

Ted shook his head, distraught. As if the revelation of her dislike for the holiday might send him spiral to a pit of hopelessness. "If you ain't goin, im not goin'"

Her eyes widen. "What the hell are you on about?"

He looked up to her, eyes hard, determined. Like a soldier off to war.

'This is ridiculous' she had thought

"I said, im not goin if ya ain't goin"

"Y-you can't do that! The others would kill me!" She yelled, panic settling deep on her guts. Rebecca would literally drag her corpse on the road, yelling shame! Shame! Shame! While the folks of richmond would throw shit at her face. "Ted, they'll do worse than kill me. Keleey would use my skin to make herself a new bag, you can't do this to me"

"Oh I will" he pointed, shoulder squared. "I will blame it all on ya', if they ask why I ain't goin' ill tell them it was you"

"This is crazy! Why are you even doing this?!" She asked him, wanting to laugh and wanting to cry on how fucking mental it is.

"Why do I even- why do you even want me there?!"

"BECAUSE!"

"THATS NOT A PROPER REASON, IDIOT!" she yelled before groaning, throwing her hands up. "FINE! FINE! IM GOING! GOD!"

He then grinned, big, wide and bright that she had to squint. She hates the part of her brain that told her that suffering on the party is all worth it if she could see him like this for a second , smiling just for her. Its crazy how he can make everything more livable just by existing.

"I know ya would come around"

She scoffed "like you just didn't threaten me"

"Had to do it" he shrugged, still smiling, still joyous. It makes her heart melt.

"Whatever" she looked away when he met her eyes, blush slithering on her cheeks. "Im going only because of you, you hear?"

It was his turn to blush, dimple deep on his cheek and eyes glimmering. "Yes ma'am" he looked down, suddenly shy. "And I'm only goin cause of ya' either"

She gave him a sideways glance, suspicious. "You sure its not for the beer?"

"Nah, just for ya" she suddenly had a sick sick disgusting urge to giggle. "Ya make everythin' better, not the booze"

God she's so inlove with him she would carved a pumpkin right now if he ask.

___________

She went as ghostface.

Tight black shirt and a sweatpants with fake blood (ketchup) splattered on her white shoes and arms. Its a simple costume that required a little amount of effort and money. And she had to admit, she look hot as fuck, she just wished the security guard up front had let her kept the kitchen knife but no matter how many pleading and yelling of 'its not real!' The man wouldn't budge.

She stood next to Rebecca whose dress could send any man with eyes falling on the floor. She went as maleficent, with horns, high cheek bones and everything that made her almost fall inlove with her.

"Hows the drink?" She had asked, smiling at her so pleasantly ever since she had got there.

"Terrible"

"Oh?" She blinked, confused. Blood red lips almost scowling. "Was it too strong?"

"Not strong enough" she replied with a teasing smile that made her boss rolled her eyes.

"Of course you would say that, the one person here that wants to go home"

"Thats not true" she laughed, putting her glass down before leaning on the wall. Watching as the other dance on the floor, some giggling and some stumbling.

"Im actually enjoying myself"

"I doubt it" Rebecca raised her perfectly drawn brow before a slow teasing grin slithered its way on her red lips. "Ted isn't here yet"

She ignored the heat on her ears

"Are you implying i can only enjoy this party if Ted is here? That he's the sunlight on my dark days? Because if so then you're are one hundred percent corre- holy fucking shit, get out of the way" she quickly, as fast can blink, lightly push Rebecca off the view of the entrance door.

"Goodness!"

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph is that Ted fucking Lasso dressed up as a cowboy?" Keeley -dressed as katniss everdeen - strolled in like a ghost in the night, suddenly popping up, a cola on her hand.

"I think I'm about to faint" y/n confessed with a heavy breath while clutching her heart. Rebecca giggled next to her, gently holding her arm.

"Look at him walking around like he doesn't have half of the woman's eyes on him, he's killing me, he's fucking killing me"

"Look at that ass, oh that is criminal" keeley stated with a whistled, watching as Ted walked around, greeting people with a laugh and a smile.

"Is that a whip?" Y/n squinted her eyes and oh  fuck it is, it is a whip, right on the holster on his hips - she swallowed thickly, the familiar heat of desperation drawing a line on her stomach.

"I have to say, im impres-"

"Im going to ride him"

Keeley choked on her drink

"excuse you?" Rebecca's head whipped around to look at y/n's face, eyes blown wide.

"Forget about the horse, im going to ride Ted Lasso tonight"

"Y-youre going to hook up with him?" Keleey asked her carefully a grin on her lips. "Tonight? Like actually tonight?"

"If he let's me" she answered though her eyes still hangs heavy on Ted Lasso who is currently standing across the room with Beard beside him dressed as Alan from the hangover.

"So you're going to confessed?" Rebecca then asked "Because this is your opportunity to tell him what you really feel, this is your time"

Ted's eyes suddenly met hers and suddenly - everything stops.

The chatter, the song, even the loud flash of cameras and the yells of the drunk. As if one look from him can make the whole world stop turning, made the time crumbles and lay dust beneath his foot.

She could hear her breathing, slow and full and deep. As if he's taking it away, feeding from her own soul. For a minute she would let him, let him take it all, place her heart on his palm and make him promise to keep it close, pour her soul onto his mouth and kiss it to seal its lock, reduce herself into nothing but atoms and dust and particles on the air and be kept in a jar, forever still, forever there, forever on him.

Ted grinned so beautifully she could cry, he gave her a wave, almost shy, almost adoring before he took his first step towards her. Every foot the same rhythm as her heart, for a second she believed in soul mate and for a second she had hoped it was him.

"Hes coming this way!" Keeley squealed lowly, turning away from him and walked towards the bar. "Im going to pretend I dont know you so you can jump on him, okay?"

"Im going to, uh, going over there! Right there to Higgins" she scrambled to lift off her gown and run lightly towards her assistance who's currently dressed as a Frankenstein.

Ted walked towards her, apologizing to the people he had bumped on his way. She doesnt think she can love anyone like this dork..

He wore a flannel, blue and black and rolled over his thick forearms. It was tucked inside his jeans, scandalously tight on his muscled thighs. There's a leather belt slithered between it, thick with a silver buckled on its front. A whip and a fake gun hang on each side.

There's a red bandana hanging on his neck and brown cowboy hat place upon his head.

Ted lasso looks sinful underneath the beating lights and shadows, like a proper seduction on a night, dress in pure temptation with a smile that held thousand of promise.

"Howdy, ma'am" he tipped his hat on her, winking. "Never have i thought I would see a lady as fine as you are"

She pray to get she wouldn't get a nosebleed. "Why thank you, cowboy" she push her mask down, hiding the grin and the blush on her cheek.

"I must say, you look good enough to eat-" she approached him a little, standing close. "-ya wouldn't mind a little bite would ya', sweetheart?"

Ted swallowed "n-not at all"

"What got you stuttering now, little lamb?" She went up to his face, titling her head a little, as if taunting him. "Youre not scared are you?"

Thank fuck for the mask, if it wasn't for it she would be on the floor right now, confidence and determination gone and replaced by the undying need to have him and never let go.

"you're really into your character arent ya?" Ted grinned at you.

"Was i?" She peered up to him with smirk, removing the mask off her face. "What are you going to do about it, cowboy? Lasso me away?"

Ted's dimple become apparent "Might have to if ya keep this up" he titled his head "Whisk you away out'a 'ere and show you what happens to a pretty little naughty thing like ya'"

Her breath hitched, body hot and guts swirlin. Her fingers itched to yank his collar and kiss him stupid.

"Yeah?" She uttered breathlessly

Ted nod his head, gaze stuck on her mouth. "Mhm, but ya would like that wouldn't ya? Have ya with me, bound and tied. Bet you would love it, a minx like ya'"

"Oh I would love it alright" she looked up to him with half lided eyes, almost drank on the words spouting of his mouth.

"Specially so because its you"

Ted had blushed then, red and harsh even under the thousand beating lights. He chuckled, the magic that reside between them now gone, replaced by the silence that you could only get when everything is light and adoring and filled with colors of love and feelings too big for your own heart.

"I uh," he looked down "im glad ya' came, thought ya wouldn't"

She chuckled and took a step back, away from his space.

"I told you I would didn't I?"

"Yeah I know but I thought you're just foolin' me, get me to shut up"

"Ted i would literally pay you my entire savings just to NEVER shut up" she smiled when he shyly looked away. "You know how much I enjoy you talk, even about things I do not understand like a 100 years old pop culture reference from an ancient movie"

"Im not that old" he grumbled rather adorably and it took everything on her not to pinch his cheeks.

"Yeah? Bet your hips would pop if I took you to the dance floor right now"

He stared at her for a couple of seconds before a grin erupted on his lips. "Is this your way of asking me to dance?"

She sighed "depends, are you going to say yes?"

"You gosh darn right I will!" He had replied with a big smile before interrupting it with a pointed finger " 'n not cause of your allegations about my perfectly fine hips, its cause I want to dance with ya'"

"I know that ted" she laughed, grabbing his hand suddenly, warm and big and rough. She likes it. "Now show me what you got, cowboy. You're too fine not to show off on the dance floor"

_________

They stumbled around the flat, kissing heatedly - all teeth and tounge and the pain of desperation to consume.

"Fuck, you're killing me" she grumbled, eyes half lided and lips red and wet. Her fingers worked in frenzy to take off every clothing he wore, buttons flying and his hat somewhere on the floor.

"Did I mention how good you look tonight?" She nose his neck, licking a stripe that had him shivering. "Did I, darling?"

"N-no, oh god" he moaned when her palm squeezed the outline of his cock on his tight jeans.

She smirked and bit him lightly on the skin between his shoulder.

"Well you are, my love." She whispered, not even bothering to give a flying fuck on the nickname she had accidently slip out. "Absolutely handsome, couldn't keep my fucking eyes off you you know that?"

Ted looked half drunk across you, hair a mess and neck covered with bites. "I-i didnt know ya find, ngh- I didnt know ya find me t-that attractive, sweetheart"

"All the flirting wasn't enough then?" She questioned, pushing him to fall on the couch and he did, easily, with a grunt and a look of anticipation and dark lust.

"Looks like you're more of a visual learner eh?" She sat on his lap, grinding her heated core on his hard cock - wet with slick and thick between her thighs. "What do you say, cowboy? Gonna let me ride you till sunrise?"

Ted moaned loudly, hands gripping her waist and nails digging on the flesh. "Y-yes please"

She smiled, hands slithering on his hair before pulling it to bare his throat to her like a submissive prey would. "Dont worry, darling. I'll take good care of you"

In one move his cock was inside her, thick and splitting her open. A gush of slick drip down her thighs and Ted moaned loudly, not a care in the world. "God.." he groaned, throwing his head back. "Feels good, fuck, ya feel so fuckin' good baby doll"

The nickname send shiver down her spine, a tingling of heat and cold.

"Squeezin' my damn cock so fuckin' tight" he licked his lips before grinning up to her, eyes lazy, dark and blown wide. "Ya sure this cunt ain't made f'me, dollface? You takin' my cock like champ"

She moaned on his filthy words, tounge frozen and chest tight. She could feel him inside her, deep on her guts, moving and rearranging anything it can reach.

"Yeah-fuck, look at ya'" he strike a palm on her ass, loud. "Beautiful thing sat on my cock, s'yours yeah?" He took her mouth, gifting her a wet kiss, pulling her bottom lip. "How ya feelin', bunny? Feels good?"

"Y-yes, feels-fuck, feel so full" she arched her back as Ted's hand went to her waist, big palm squeezing it thigh with his thumb caressing the skin he can reach.

"Cock's too big, ain't it?" He questioned, a lazy smirk on his lips. "Fitting into your tiny cunt just right though yeah? Look at it" his other hand went to her soaking pussy, caressing her folds before sucking it clean with a hummed. "Swallowing me whole easily, what a good fuckin' girl ya are. Makes me wonder if ya can take my cock on the back, fill ya up even more what'd ya say?"

He pulled her close and she gasped as his dick pierced her impossibly more deeper. "Talk to me, darlin'" he nose her neck, breathing warmth on her throat. "Gonna let your man tear ya' up from behind? Shoot my cum inside ya till you're a drippy mess hm?"

Goodness his fucking mouth..' she had thought, shivering.

"Bet ya would huh?" He bit a skin on her neck before sucking it harshly, drawing a bruise and a shiver on her spine. She moaned when his hands went to her ribs, big they were and rough, a hands of a man who could toss her around. "Bet ya would even beg for it, ya naughty thing"

His fingers went to her shoulder, brushing it gently with heavy breath and heated eyes. Tracing the collar bone and the line between her breast before his fingers reach her perked up nipple - making her shudder. "Beautiful" he whispered lowly, as if it was a secret meant only for himself. His hand envelop her whole breast, playing with it as his cock speared her in a pace that had her toes curling. She could feel every vein inside her, every thrust had her cunt quivering and gushing, painting his pelvis with her own slick.

His mouth went to her nipple, hot and smooth and soaking. His tounge swirled and his lashes flutter as he closed his eyes, the hand on her ribs pulled her much closer than before and Ted sucked at her nipple like a man starve, groaning.

She bounce on his cock, moaning wantonly from the fullness between her thighs, she swore she could feel his dick on her throat, so deep and so thick it was splitting her open, making a room inside her just for his cock and his alone.

"Thats it" he remove his mouth off her nipple with a pop before throwing his head back. "Thats it, dollface. Take my cock like ya own it" he clenched his jaw, the litte hair dangling on his forehead moving at every movement she makes, long eyelashes closed and mouth slightly agape.

She moaned when his hips started moving, meeting her thrust halfway through, it hit the hidden spot inside her that made her want to scream and sob and stop at the same time. "T-ted, Ted, Ted!" She repeated his name like a mantra, like a broken prayer of a desperate man, filled with adoration and lust and yearning for something she doesnt even know what.

He groaned loudly, almost like a growl of a feral man before he sat up more straighter, grabbing her closely, impossibly close, pushing her head on his neck and hugging her tight on his own sweaty body that it render immovable and writhing in pleasure. "Gonna fuck your pretty little pussy just like this yeah?" He stated in her ear before his hips started moving much faster, more harder, hitting her spot over and over again that every thrust had her gushing and moaning.

"Yeah, fuck yeah, t-take it, take it, take it" he repeated in her ear, thick thick cock spearing her mercilessly until she was sobbing and drawing her nails on his shoulder.

"S'too m-much!" She complained and yet she widen her thighs further more, savoring the feeling of his wet cock. "T-teddyy" she whined, pushing her face into his neck as tears fell from her eyes.

"What got ya cryin' now, sweetheart?" He chuckled breathlessly, hips still moving, dick still splitting her open. His hand went to her nape, grabbing it with his whole palm before pulling it to glimpse at her fucked out face. "Even with tears drippin' on your cheeks you're fuckin' beautiful" he pecked her lips sweetly before drawing back, a grin on his lips. "'S my cock too much for ya' dolly? Daddy hurtin' your cunt hm? Do-dont worry.." his hand tighten. "Gonna give ya my cum to make it all better"

That was the last straw of it all, snapping everything in place, cogs turning and limbs rigid.

She came on his cock with a cry and a thousand tears on her cheeks, back arching and quivering that Ted had to hold him more tighter. She could feel her cum dripping down his cock, soaking him wet. Ted moaned in return, loving the filth of it all, basking on it even - he watched her face relax and brows furrowed, letting herself be used even when her cunt throbs.

"T-teddy" she whined lowly, biting her lip. Her hand went to his arm, gripping it tight. "C-cant, m'too, im too s-sensitive!"

"Just a lil' mo-more" he groaned, holding her waist now, lifting her up and bringing her down, completely using her like she was only a hole for him, a cum dump. "Ya can take it, d-darlin'. M'sure ya could yeah? Jus-just a little, be good f'me"

She squealed and she sob, soaping cunt loud at every thrust. He was breathing heavily then, sweating like a dog in heat as he split her. Thighs sticky and cunt still dripping.

"Fu-fuck, bunny" he groaned, grinding her on his throbbing cock. "M' close, f-fuck, so fuckin' close" he whined, head thumping on her chest, breath warming her breast. "G-gonna cum, can-can i, can I fill ya' up? Pleas-please please, oh god.." the sound he had made was between a sob and a moan, it made her guts coil, made her cheeks hot.

"Mhm hm" she nod her head quickly, pulling him close to him. "P-please cum inside me, t-ted pl-please" tears drip down her cheeks, cunt swollen and clit throbbing with need. Hes stretching her wide, touching every corner of her inside.

"Y-yeah, thank you dolly, fu-fuck thank you" he groaned and push his hips much faster, fucking her silly with his cock. "Gonna fill your pretty pussy up nice and good yeah?" He was breathing heavily, heaving chest and throbbing cock. She can feel it more on her guts, a dull bump on her tummy at every movement he makes."G-gonna have ya drippin' f'me, use ya' like a fuckin hole and dump my spunk into your pussy yeah? Fuck!" He gave a harsh thrust "Oh god, sweetheart oh fuck i love you"

Her eyes widen.

"Love ya' so fuckin' much" he growled, pulling her onto his lap before he lift his hips up and gave her a single harsh thrust. "Fucking take it, take it, take it" he repeated in her ear as his cum came flooding in, hot and so so many.

"Yeah, s-shit look'a that. 'S too much its dripping out'a ya'" he groaned, thrusting slower then, riding his high.

"Ya did such a good job" he sighed as he had stopped, pulling out of her with a low moan and a shudder.

He kissed her forehead with a lazy grin.  "Lets get ya clean-"

"You said you love me" she interrupted him with a wide eyes and a blushing cheeks.

"What?"

"You told me you love me" she repeated, as if in trance. "You said you love me so much earlier, you repeated it twice, Ted"

Ted sat frozen underneath her before looking away, suddenly so so sad.

"I-yeah, okay, no point in-in denying i supposed" his brows furrowed and his eyes had turned into that softer gentler look that had her heart always aching. "I love ya..for, for a long time. Don't know how it started and I'm quiet upset im confessing to ya' like this but what do I do" he chuckled but the humour on it was gone. He met her eyes, earnest, adoring, the same gaze he had used to looked at her for as long as she can remember, a gaze she couldn't put a finger on back then but could finally see it as clearly as day now.

"I love you, im inlove with you, stu-stupidly so and I get it if ya don't feel the same, its okay and I can do whatever ya like me too after this, I can walk away or I can pretend to never know ya at-"

She kissed him.

She kissed him like he would loose him.

Like any second he would turn into ashes, flew in the air and never to be return again. Tasted him like It would be her last to see him for a very long time, as if he's off to war with death hanging like a noose on his head, ready to pull and ready to kill.

"I love you too, you fucking idiot" she grinned up to him, eyes wet and cheeks hurting.

"I love you, Ted. I fucking love you"

Ted smiled, big and bright despite the darkness of the night. He looks beautiful with happiness lingering on his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, fuck yes"

Their lips met and yeah..yeah maybe Halloween wasn't too bad.

Ted smiled on her lips and it tasted sickeningly sweet as a melted sugar.

Yep, it definitely wasn't bad at all.

[fan-goddess]

The decay of marital flesh

Authors Note: This has taken months to complete, and I am so happy that people have taken time to ask me about this and have wanted to have a part two of my original oneshot that I didn’t know would get so popular. So here’s the depressive thing that took me months to compete cause I needed to be in an angsty mood to write. Here’s my blood and angst

Summary: A part two of this piece here. This is the depressing version of it and the other happy part will be linked to this part here.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of f oral, self harm, blood, kinslaying, cheating on partner (I’ve probably no doubt missed warnings so if you see any you think I should add then let me know!)

Taglist: @ietss, @papichulo120627, @rorawinters, @introverbatim, @alicentswife, @brie-annwyl, @victoriagaunt, @kyla44, @pax-2735, @omgbcat @bellameshipper, @coolsiaisaqueenstuff, @snh96, @devils-blackrose, @blue-serendipity, @dahlias-and-marigolds, @glame, @jennifer0305, @humanpurposes, @valeskafics, @aemondwhoresworld @leiakim99

Whenever you slept, somehow the weight of the letter always found a way to haunt you. Whenever your hand managed to sweep under and made direct contact with the paper, it practically burned to the touch with no explanation how.

Klarissa had soon became one of your trusted, friends? She would come into your chambers to place your food in the morn and look at you intently and with questions she herself knew would remain unanswered. You never spoke to her again of the contents of the original letter, nor did she ever thankfully attempt to ever bring it up. It was thing about her you found yourself grateful for.

Though it seemed Klarissas silence on the topic may soon be broken. As recently, more letters, similar to the original, were beginning to make themselves known to you.

Though this time, you cannot bring yourself to read them. You can only stare at them while they burn into nothing in your fireplace. You can only watch as whatever words and meaning they once possessed become ash and soot. Maybe they were letters asking for forgiveness? Or asking for a conference where he begged for you to not spill his blood just as you instructed him that you would? Either way, you held firm belief that nothing of that sort would be happening.

Not while Aemond continued to breathe, and to live.

Aemond does not believe that you are reading any of his letters any more. The maid who had given to you his first letter, whose eyes once held fear of his position, now hold only sympathy and sadness. She doesn’t need to say what he had been fearing. It’s written plain and clearly all over her face.

Still, he can’t help but wish to cry at the realisation, even though he knew it would happen some time or later. An act he does not even think he’s done since he was robbed of his eye. Yet his sudden loss of you, the one person who he should have protected and been with, brings to him more emotion throughout his entire body than he’s felt in his entire life. Even when his sorrow begins to spread through out him, throughout his soul, the tears do not fall. He cannot dare let them. He cannot appear weak in front of the court. He cannot dare appear to be weak in front of you.

His chambers seem all too empty when he enters them. The bed appears stiff and uninviting. The books appear meaningless and empty. Even the fire seems too cold. Even when he begins edging closer and closer to the flames until he’s practically face to face with them.

“Aemond, what are you doing?!” His mothers frantic voice breaks him from his trance before he could fully put his arm in the fire. Only hearing the sudden frantic sound of his mother’s voice does he begin feeling the heat of the flames against his skin. It’s an addictive feeling, as for the first time in months he feels alive. It feels like your fiery touch is caressing him again.

“It does not matter mother… why are you here?” Aemond curtly says, begrudgingly stepping away from the flames to look at her with a soulless eye.

“Aemond, my son, I’m afraid that the court are beginning to talk. They question your marriage, they question your-“

“I do not care about what the people question mother!” Aemond shouts. Raw emotion and anger overflowing from his skin in waves as he stalks to his mother and grips her arms roughly in emphasis of his frustration. He can feel his unkempt nails digging into her arms, and he can even see the slight fear that slowly envelopes her. Yet still, he does not relent on his hold of her, even when she tries to escape from him. “The people do not know how it is I have suffered! How much my wife has suffered! I will not have those insufferable cunts dictating things about my own marriage!”

His nails unknowingly leave small dents in his mother’s arms. His nails which have grown long from neglect begin to draw into her skin so deeply that even with the clothing between the two, he nearly manages draws blood. It’s not even until she begins to wince and voice her pain does Aemond notice what he’s doing to her. What he’s doing to his own mother.

“M-mother I-“

“Save it Aemond. I know you are mourning in your own way. I know that your wife is mourning. She is mourning my son because it was you who betrayed the scared vows the two of you spoke together, and insisted that you drew blood for. It is well within her right to burst down these doors and draw that same blood from you with her own blade. I will not let you drag that girl down with you my son, just because you wish to cling to a long rotted away life that you yourself threw away, all for a fucking bastard wet nurse belonging to house strong!”

Aemond does not move when his mother shouts as him. He does not even blink when his mother’s passionate anger leaves small spit trails on his face. For everything she just said is true. It was him who broke the scared marital bond between him and you. For that, he should suffer no less than a thousand cuts.

Aemonds single eye goes back to the fire where he had sat earlier, and goes to sit there once more. Once again, he does not truly feel the heat it should be providing him. He adds a couple loose logs in the fire, prodding them around slightly with an iron poker.

Aemond drops it though when a log jolts suddenly and startles him, and hisses when the red hot poker makes contact with his upper thigh, burning him. Though he cannot deny the slight satisfaction it brings him to feel the pain flare through his clothes. So he strips himself till he is only in his underclothes, and he does it again, and again. Hissing under his breath each time it makes contact with the pale skin. Maybe this is how he will get closer to you? How he will successfully manage to feel the pain that you felt when you had to push the physical manifestation of his betrayal curse you? He knows it is unlike anything he could ever truly experience, but he has to try. For you, and for the baby he will never meet.

When you begin burning the next letter in the fire, adjusting it slightly with the poker hanging on the side of the fireplace, you can hear an unknown person entering the room with an audible creak coming from the direction of the door. Klarissa had slyly mentioned a few days previous how it was like that due to your infrequent comings and goings. If you didn’t know her name and respect her slightly, you probably would’ve had her relocated immediately for such cheek.

“I think my brother takes great time and thought into writing those letters princess.” A distinctive voice and nickname causes a rare smile to form, still looking at the fire before you.

“Good. Then maybe he’ll learn to be sorry and he’ll learn what my pain was like.” Your voice is surprisingly cold, even with such a warm smile on your lips. It even surprises yourself slightly.

“Well, as much as I do appreciate your determination for damning my brother, I don’t think he’ll share that same sentiment. Do you even read them? Or do you just immediately condemn them to ash? Because I’d hate to think some poor soul like my mother writes a letter to you only to have it thrown to the flames…”

“I’m not that overcome with anger, my prince. I do look at the handwriting of the letters before I, as you so plainly put it, condemn them to ash.” It’s almost annoying how easy it is for Aegon to make you smile. He’s become the light to shine you through your dark ages. A friend amongst the snakes and the thorns that weave and poison the court, looking only in ways to further their power.

“How many times have I told you sweet princess to call me Aegon? I think after everything we’ve done and been through together, we’d have been properly acquainted with each others company. As much as my little brother utterly detests the very idea of it.” Aegon now sits beside you at the fire, his everything already making your tensed frame ease into a more calm and relaxed one. He does not make any move to stop you from making sure the letter is properly burned into nothingness. An act you appreciate immensely.

“My brother, was a fool to believe he needed someone else to comfort him...”

The quick comment is also quickly followed by a deathly sort of silence in the room. The only thing being able to penetrate it being the comforting sound of the crackling flames.

Though not a few minutes after, from the corner of your eye, you can spot Aegons hand slowly and cautiously placing itself on your arm, drawing your attention to him as you cautiously drop the poker and turn to him. His face looks like the one of a deer when it’s caught in a trap, fear and panic. Though by the way he had approached you, it was as if he was trying to approach an unpredictable creature from the forest. A beast.

“Can I be so bold princess, as to say something to you?” His voice is practically one of a whisper. So meek that you didn’t know if you had heard him correctly the first time.

“Of course Aegon? You are my closest confidant.” Your words though, supposed to be ones of comfort, makes Aegons lips turn in a slight grimace. Yet still, he wets his lips before speaking.

“You… are everything any man I think could ever need in a wide. Which is why i am so disappointed in him. Why take that bastard into his bed, when he could have had you…” Aegon then cautiously leads his head forward and captures your open mouth with his own.

You cannot move. You cannot think. You cannot say anything to stop what is going on in that moment. There is only one thing that races specifically through your head however. One question that stands out from the rest.

Do you even want Aegon, your husbands brother, to stop?

In your confusion, you find yourself unable to move a muscle. Only it seems Aegon mistakes your lack of action and your confusion as a direct answer. Since his once shy hands move with a surprising confidence from your arm, to delicately cupping at your cheek and your head.

You cannot deny that the kiss did not leave a warm feeling erupting in your chest, and a fluttering sensation to churn in your heart. Yet there is one other thing you can think off while this is happening. You can only ponder on how strange it truly feels to kiss another man other than your husband. How strange it is to betray your marriage like he had done.

When Aegon finally breaks away from you, you can see that his eyes have grown dark with presumably desire. Yet unlike other men, he makes no move to direct you to the nearest bed like you would expect him to do. Instead, it looks as if his eyes have softened as they look into your own. A strange kind of peace drifting over him that you’d never really seen on him, nor even on another person before.

“Why did you do that…” You mutter, watching the way the flames make his skin look almost golden in the light.

His eyes though still hold that same strange look of softness, and his hand begin to stroke at your cheek with a strange type of fondness.

“Because I’ve been wanting to do it for quite some time now.”

It’s so simple. Spoken so calmly with a careless shrug, that it’s almost as if it was the easiest thing Aegons ever said in his life, and yet it causes an immediate feeling of panic and terror to erupt deep within your chest.

Your head moves your body in such a hurry that you had almost toppled over, if Aegon had not clutched at you so quickly to keep you steady. Yet at the feeling of his practically burning hands on your bare skin you push away from him.

Your head races with the discovery of Aegons… desires? Feelings even? Whatever they are, they’re something you never would’ve known about if not for Aemonds betrayal to his vows.

You know you should be angry at Aegon for what he has done. Angry at yourself even for not immediately pushing him off of you, a still married woman. And yet, when he kissed you, you felt more alive and happy then you’ve felt since Aemonds betrayal.

Even as you pace the room, Aegons keen eyes watch you with concern and slight anticipation at your next move. Like a dog always waiting for it’s masters command. He doesn’t move from the spot he originally sat in, only turning on his and trailing after your pacing with his eyes.

“I don’t know if I could ever love you-“

“You do not have to love me!” At the confession, Aegon is suddenly standing before you, your hands clasped tightly in his. Almost too tightly. As if he was grasping a delicate object he was too afraid would collapse and smash into a thousand pieces. The issue with that concern though, is that you’ve already been broken into thousands of tiny pieces and put back together again. In the end, there’s nothing left for him to break that’s not already been broken before. “All you need to do, my sweet princess, is let me in…”

This time, you do not break away so suddenly from Aegon when he kisses you again. Instead, you tightly grip at his warm fire like flesh in your fingers, and allow for his body to envelope you in senses you thought would never be awoken again.

That night, you felt the crash of everything you have ever been feeling, and everyone that’s made you feel that pain hit you all at once. That night, the hurting finally stopped for a time, and was replaced with only pleasure.

Aemond feels tired, exhausted, and drained, all in one. The words that he attempts to write to you blur all into one as his head swims with an ache that he has no idea whether is due to his deformity or due to his lack of sleep and self care. Either way, it’s in the way, and if Aemond could, he would rip it from his head so he could be done with it all.

He’s seen glimpses and heard plenty of tales of Aegon coming and going from your chambers. Seemingly, a strange bond has formed between the two of you, as before his time at Harrenhal, you’d never spoken to him. Yet now, he hears whispers of his brother leaving your presence and your chambers nearly every day.

Now he not only is jealous of his brothers soon to be crown. Now, he must bear witness and be forced to sit and wallow in his jealousy of Aegons access to your touch and your voice. Of Aegons access to his wife.

The letter in front of him, his unknown number attempt at reconciliation, is half written. The quill in his hand half poised to write as it drips dark raven ink onto the page and bleeds onto the dark oak desk.

Maybe he should write it with his own blood? Slice his palm and let it drip into a cup, before dipping his quill into it and writing his heartbreak with it. If he shows you how much he’s willing to bleed for you, maybe you’ll finally be willing to read his words and allow him to see you again…

There’s now a cramp in his hand from where he’s paused himself, and yet he strangely relishes in the onslaught of dull pain being given to him by his hand and head.

Maybe it’s a sign from the gods that he should stop himself? For he betrayed both the maiden and the mother when he laid with that fucking witch from Harrenhal, and it feels as if he should be praying nightly to the father for him to be brought to justice for you.

However now, with the considerable amount of time that he is being forced to spend away from you and your arms, he feels as though he should pray to the Stranger, late at night, when the moon is high and full. He should pray to him to slice his head from his shoulders and place him away from his misery forever more.

Though with his Targaryen heritage, there is no doubt that they have been waiting for an opportunity like this to pluck him and his family from their very roots for their many sins…

It has been a few months since you, ‘let Aegon in’, as he’d so put it. Though if you were to be honest with yourself, you’ve never felt as calm of character, as you were when you were with Aegon.

Still, you must admit, that whenever his head of short and unkempt silver hair is laid in your lap, facing away from you, your mind begins to wander of other things. You end up always thinking of his hair being twice as long, and his body being twice as lean.

You concluded that the gods must be punishing you for your sins. For practically abandoning your husband for a man of his own blood and partaking in pleasures of the flesh with him. But if this was how the gods had decided to punish you, how were they punishing Aemond…

“It is alright my love, we do not need to do it again until you are willing.” Aegon had said whilst stroking the bare skin of your arm with a distinguishable fondness.

You hadn’t the strength to tell him that the reason why you could not bring yourself to lay with him again is because the memory of Aemond still lives on in you forever. The ones that used to make you smile in fondness, but now make you wish to tear out his other eye with your bare hands and have his blood drip from your fingernails.

Aemonds memory that constantly lies within you is now a plague. A plague of constant mourning and sadness. A plague that is never ending and never relenting.

The memory of him still lives on months later, where for the first time ever, you leave your room dressed properly and looking like a true lady of the court. Aegon stands by your side in what you believe in his eyes is for your protection. But why would you need protection when your heart has been broken and stitched back together carelessly two times already?

Though as Aegons tries to murmur what your sure is meant to be encouraging murmurs of affection in your ear, your ears prick up to the sound of a familiar sound of footsteps, and you look up and connect eyes with your husband.

Your feet stop where they stand, and Aegons hands clench firmly against your own as he continues murmuring some kind of unknown gibberish in your ear. But you ignore him and look only at your husband. Who in turn, stares only at Aegons hands that are intwined in your own. You can see even from where you are standing, the way his brows furrow in annoyance at the sight, and somehow, you can feel your heart break for the third time in your lifetime as Aemond swiftly walks away without sparing you another glance.

You’re here. You’re walking close as can be with his brother and you’re standing in front of him looking at him with shocked doe like eyes.

The anger that blooms in his chest is nothing like the anger he felt when he killed Luke. It’s nothing similar to the anger he felt when he faced the injustice of his father when he was robbed of his eye. This is a new type of anger. It’s an obsession. A new type of injustice that only the feeling of blood on his skin could possibly have the power to diminish. But not your blood. Never your blood. No. Aemond craves Aegons blood on his blade.

He doesn’t even realise that he walked away from you until he looks around and realises he’s in his chambers, and his eye stares at the half written letter that still pathetically lays on his desk. An old pot of ink and a ruffled quill still waiting for him to pick up again.

His rage that still boils like a dragons fire within him feels no bounds as he tempts himself into ripping the letter. Into grabbing his dagger tucked away in his belt and stalking his way through the passages to Aegons chambers, where he’d wait till the sun goes down to strike him when he least expects it, and grin as Aegons chokes on his blood with fear and betrayal in his eyes. Watching with glee as Aegon dies for his crime. Trying to take what rightfully belongs to him.

But then, Aemond properly begins to think. You seemed to be close to be brother, if the closeness Aegon held you and the way he so closely whispered into your ears meant anything. If he killed his brother, it would only mean that he killed another one of the people you cared about. And Aemond refused to give you another reason for you to be scornful of him.

Aemond gives in though and rips the letter on the desk, and with a huff begins a new one. His anger and his frustration clear in his writing and with how many times the quill almost goes through the page with how fiercely and carelessly he uses it. He imagines your happiness though as he writes. The way you used to smile at him with such unique brightness. The way your cheeks would flush a beautiful light pink when he teased you. He even dared to think and reminisce on the way your face would shift into one of pure pleasure when he’d sit before the heaven that lay between your thighs, and lick and suck till he felt you spill no less than three times on his tongue.

The last thought soured though as he imaged Aegon seeing you like that. Seeing your smile, your happiness, your pleasure. The grip on his quill so strong he felt it snap between his fingers. A sharp shard of it bringing a small drop of blood to drop and pool on the page bellow. Yet Aemond didn’t choose to begin a new letter clear of his blood. He allowed it to stay there and continue with the same paper, so he could show his devotion to you. So he could show his willingness to bleed for you. Show how much he values his vow to shed as much blood as he needed to in order to achieve your forgiveness. It was truly an addictive thought, seeing you again. And one he could never stop running through his head when he thought of the future.

Aemond finished the letter, writing on the paper front and back with no less than three separate pages before he deemed his rant to be over. Blood pooling on various areas on all of them. His fingers now cramping around the new quill that he’d grabbed with each flex of his hand, and the ache that has sadly dulled around the cut to Aemonds relief remains pungent. If he could, he would pray to all Seven Gods for the wound to never heal. So you could see his devotion to you. To witness the death of his sanity in front of your very eyes.

There are no guards outside the front of your chambers. A fact Aemond cannot help but be disgusted by when he sees it as he walks to the familiar doors. Later that night he’ll find those two men tasked with the purpose of keeping you safe, and he’ll make sure to strip them of whatever dignity and honour they believed to possess. Perhaps the comfort of the wall would suit them nicely? Or the kiss of his blade?

Aemond raises his fist to knock at the door, but voices keep him from doing so. Specific voices. Yours and Aegons voices…

Before he knows it, Aemond is pushing himself against the wood as much as he can so he can hear every beautiful syllable of your voice. He does not care at first for the meanings behind them, but he certainly begins to when he realises what he is listening too are some very familiar high pitched sounds. Breathless sounds that Aemond had told you on yours and his wedding night that only he would hear.

While Aemond waits outside your door, he can hear your voices of pleasure radiating from the other side.

His fists are clenched no more to knock, but instead in anger. And the dulled throb of the small cut earlier on his hand flares up again as it reopened from his carelessness. Yet instead of moving to stem the blood, Aemond grows an idea deep from within him. Aemond snatches his dagger from his belt, and with no hesitation, quickly slices a deep mark on his inner palm.

His posture and frame is deathly still while the blood begins to heavily pool and drip onto the ground, only moving to place his hand firmly against the wooden door, watching it drip down the dark wood and trail to the stone flooring.

He can see the large puddle flow under your door, and Aemond wishes nothing more at that moment for you to see it. To see him. To see his devotion. His love. His sacrifice for you. If he hadn’t already lost it, Aemond would’ve torn out his eye and shoved it under the door too as a gift for you to make you stop your torturing of his soul.

Aemond only steps away when the blood pool reaches his shoes, and even then it’s with great resistance from himself as he stuffs the still bleeding wound against his dark coat that already begins to rapidly absorb the blood. He can even feel it soak his undershirt and his skin.

He goes straight to his chambers that night instead of paying a visit to the maesters. He does the same the next night, and the one after that.

Instead, Aemond relishes in the look he receives from Aegon the next morning. The look of utter horror and fear that speaks at least over a thousand words. The look that tells him you now finally know of his gift and his devotion to you. The look that tells him he is one step closer to you again.

Aemond Targaryen refuses to rest until he is drained entirely of his blood and it is pooled directly at your feet. He refuses to rest until his heart is laid bare in his hands and is presented to you like a septa presents the gods with their offerings. Until his name can be uttered from your precious lips without your own heart breaking from sorrow.

Aemond Targaryens heart could break a thousand times over, each time bloodier than the next, but he refuses to allow yours to break again. Not by his hand at least…