#again this is obvs joking (...mostly)

[saff-rons]

cycling between genuine happiness and joy for Max and also sheer dread. part of me is just like. idgaf abt the kid what about Me and My enjoyment of the sport

[zetchrr]

Apologies to my non dnd folllowers. It's a gith kind of morning.

[celandeline]

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader, mostly canon compliant (yes, people are still dying/getting maimed), heavy on the smut, incest (they are targaryens, obv), a little angst

9.5k words (buckle up)

You were born at the end of a long summer’s day, just as the last sliver of sun was sinking below the waves of the bay. Your sister was born on the same day, just after the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon. Twin Targaryen girls, Helaena and Jaenara, the second and third of Alicent Hightower’s children. 

The summer has always held a special place in your heart - not only because of your nameday, but because of the way the heat of the day lingers in the air long after the sun has set. The sound of a warm breeze as it rustles through the courtyard flowers, spreading the lovely floral scent. The feeling of the sun on your skin - the taste of fresh fruit grown outside the city. You’ve always loved the summer. You love it especially now, the only thing making this godforsaken funeral bearable. 

Next to you, Aegon snags two more glasses of wine from a passing serving girl, handing one to you with a limp wrist and a sigh. He downs half his glass in one long draught. “I don’t understand why Helaena.” He grumbles, gesturing to where she sits on the ground with his glass, the wine sloshing inside. “If I must marry at all, why not you?”

You take a long sip from your own glass, leaning back against the store railing overlooking the sea. Driftmark, while much more drab than the Red Keep, has one thing going for it - the pleasant smell of salt in the air, and the sound of the waves against the shore. “Our mother thinks that if we were to be wed, I would enable you.” You say. 

Aegon snorts, finishing off his drink. “As if Helaena will do anything to stop me from my hedonistic desires.” He jokes, quoting Alicent. “If it’s not to do with grasshoppers, it’s not to do with her.”

You neglect to snicker along with him, simply pressing your lips to the rim of your glass as you watch your dear sister pass a spider back and forth between her hands, muttering under her breath. She’s always been something of a dreamer, your Helaena, something the rest of your family doesn’t seem to notice. But you, always in tune to your sister from the moment you were born, know. Threads of omniscience run through her mutterings, though deciphering them sometimes is beyond you. 

“Some could say the same about you, with wine and whores.” You say, glancing knowingly at Aegon. “We all have our compulsions - some worse than others.”

“I only jest.” Aegon says, defensive. You can tell he’s getting drunker, his movements becoming more loose, his words louder. 

“Hm.” You finish your glass, setting the empty cup on the railing beside you. “Is it truly in jest if you are the only one laughing?”

“Perhaps it is better that I marry Helaena instead of you.” Aegon says, leaning close enough that you can smell the wine on his breath. “You do have a way of inciting my annoyance, Jaenara. No, I do not think you would make a good wife.”

You lean even closer, all too ready to play Aegon’s game. Your teeth scrape over his ear as you retort, “No, you’ve always liked the ones who won’t fight back, haven’t you?”

The tension breaks as Aegon laughs, tossing his head back as he steps away, putting a respectable amount of distance between you again. You chuckle as well, until another voice - softer, younger - cuts through your chortling. Aemond.

“What’s funny?”

Aegon, not subtle at all, rolls his eyes. “Nothing.”

“We were just discussing Aegon’s betrothal.” You say, shifting so that Aemond can lean against the railing beside you. You’ve never understood Aegon’s disdain for your baby brother - something your nephews seem to share. “Or rather,” You cast a joking look to Aegon. “Aegon was complaining about it.”

“‘Tis your duty.” Aemond says, ever so serious. 

Aegon rolls his eyes again, gesturing widely at Helaena. “Look at her.”

“Aegon-” You start.

“I would do my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.” Aemond retorts. 

Aegon flaps a hand. “The both of you.” He dismisses, eyes scanning through the thin crowd. “I’m going to get more wine.” And with that, he’s gone, sliding between chatting relatives in the wake of a serving girl, chasing after the wine she carries. 

You place a hand atop Aemond’s head with a sigh, gently carding it through the silky silver hair there. “He can be such an ass, our brother.”

Aemond looks up at you with a thin smile. “Mm.”

The blood on your hands is not yours, but your brothers, smeared across your forearms from when you’d clutched his face in your hands, holding closed the gash across his eye with your thumbs as the maester stitched the wound back together. Now, he smears tears and snot across the bodice of your gown, the good side of his face pressed against the thin fabric of your nightclothes as he clutches you with shaking hands. 

Your mother is screaming. Aegon is huddled against the wall of the room, no doubt already suffering a hangover from how much he drank. Helaena stands to your left, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the scene before her, gaze absent. You watch in horror as your mother wields a knife against Rhaenyra, spitting insults like venom. Ser Cole is pressed almost chest to chest with Daemon. Your little nephew, Lucerys’ face is bloodied. 

You have no idea what happened. But Aemond is missing an eye. And Vhagar is now his dragon, instead of Laena’s daughters. You knew - known, now - that his lack of a dragon had always been a sore spot for Aemond, but you never would have guessed that he would go to such drastic measures to claim a beast of his own. And Vhagar, no less. 

You expect him to cry, to whimper in pain, to react, but he just holds onto the gauzy fabric of your nightdress and keeps the unmarred side of his face pressed close to your chest. Hiding, almost. 

You soothe a hand down his back, pressing him closer. “It’ll be alright.” You say, your voice lost amongst the carrying on. It won’t be. He’ll be scarred forever, he’ll have to re-learn how to walk, how to write, how to do anything that requires vision. It’ll take him years to recover fully. 

“I know.” He says, voice soft. Level. Even. 

And it’s his calm reassurance that makes you believe your own words. It will be alright, one way or another. 

Hand in hand, you walk your brother through the halls of the Red Keep, towards the training yards, for his swordsmanship lessons. Servants and nobles alike avert their eyes as you pass, some out of respect, some out of disgust. It’s true - the scar across Aemond’s face is nothing delightful to look at, a motley of yellow and purple swollen skin, the scabs leaking pus. But you do not look away. He is your brother, and he receives enough torment from Aegon already. 

He clutches your hand tightly, holding it like a bannister as he puts one foot in front of the other, his good eye steadfastly looking ahead. Sometimes his balance sways (especially around turns or on the steps) but he’s getting better. “You’ll be able to come and go as you please again soon.” You say, not bothering to hide the pride in your tone. 

He scoffs. “I can’t stay a cripple forever.”

Aemond was never sweet. But the loss of his eye has only soured him more. You roll your eyes, teasing, “You’d do well to save your bitterness for someone who’s not capable of causing you to fall down the stairs at a moment's notice.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “Apologies, sister.” He mumbles.

You sigh. “I only joke, Aemond.” Aegon has ruined him, picking at all of his insecurities without remorse until he bristles at the slightest hint of humor, thinking an insult is coming. 

His good eye shifts away from the hall in front of him for a moment to cast you a sidelong glance. 

“Not all of us are Aegon.” You insist, rounding the corner with him to step outside into the afternoon sunlight. Ser Cole is already waiting, whirling his sword from hand to hand idly as Aegon straps himself into his practice armor. Aemond lets go of your hand as soon as he sees Aegon, taking shaky steps onto the field proper, alone. 

Aegon pays him no mind, his gaze falling on you. “Jaenara. Come help me.”

“Your lack of manners is appalling.” You say, walking over to him anyway, taking the leather straps of his breastplate from him and tightening them over his shoulders. “What would mother say?”

Aegon just grins. “Meet me tonight.” He says, his voice dropping into a more conspiratorial register. He doesn’t have to say where - you’ve snuck out with him before. You know the route. “A traveling troupe has arrived in Flea Bottom, supposedly.”

“Sunset?” You ask, dropping your hands from the straps on his shoulders to the ones near his waist. 

“Mm.” He watches you work, still grinning. 

“Alright.” You say, stepping back. 

His grin widens into a smile as he twirls his sword. “What fun we’ll have.”

The sun has begun to light the sky when you stumble back into the Red Keep with Aegon, giggling under your hoods as you sneak past the white cloaks back to your chambers. Really, it can barely be called sneaking anymore - you know they see you return, you know they saw you leave. The only reason they don’t trail you through the streets of the city is because Alicent doesn’t know, and hasn’t ordered them to, so why do the extra work? 

You sway into Aegon’s shoulder as you walk, all the wine that you drank making your head spin. Taking you by the arm, he only makes it worse as he begins to waltz you down the hall, jauntily humming the same tune you’d been dancing to in a tavern earlier. Laughing like a fool, you tip your head back and let him dance you about, until he deposits you against the wall by your bedroom door, caging you in against the stone. 

You know he’s going to kiss you - he always does, at the end of the night. Gently, he presses his lips to yours, and you smile into it. He doesn’t kiss you like he kisses his whores - nor do you kiss him as you do yours. It’s a chaste thing, only a moment before you’re both pulling back to look at each other. 

“As sweet as wine.” He whispers.

“Mm.” You bite your lip in a grin. “Goodnight, Aegon.”

“Good morning.” He giggles, pushing away from the wall to stumble back to his own bed. 

You slip into your own room, dropping your cloak and dress from your shoulders, one after the other, as soon as you are inside. Just in your shift, you turn to flop into the soft comfort of your bed, only to see a lump under the covers that wasn’t there when you left. Slowly, you peel back the sheets to reveal Aemond, face pressed into your pillow, soundly asleep. 

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips as you climb into bed beside him, doing your best not to disturb his slumber. He stirs anyway though, good eye cracking open with a jolt, softening when he realizes it’s you. Extending an arm, you make space for him to curl up against your chest, and he does, tucking his face under your chin.

“You were with Aegon.” It’s mildly accusatory, but mostly sleepy.

“Mm.” You don’t deny it, stroking a hand through Aemond’s hair. “And you were here. In my bed.” You press your nose to the top of his head. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

“My eye.” He says. “The pain. It’s more than just the skin, it… it stabs me through the skull, sometimes. Makes it hard to fall asleep.”

“We will see the maesters in the morning.” You say, still gently stroking. “Perhaps they will be able to come up with some tincture to soothe you.”

He lets out a sleepy little hum, and settles more against you. Your own eyes flutter shut, and your stroking hand moves to wrap around his shoulders instead. It’s quiet, for a while, and for a moment you think he’s drifted off, but then,

“Will you take me with you, once?”

“To Flea Bottom?”

“Mm.”

You pause for a moment. “If you wish. Perhaps when you’re a bit older.”

“How old?”

“At least as old as I was when Aegon first took me with him.”

“And how old was that?”

You smile into his hair. “Give it a year.”

“Mm. Alright.”

The quality of Aemond’s eye improves drastically over the course of a year, so that by the time he dons his own cloak and takes to the streets of King’s Landing with you and Aegon, it almost blends into his face. The scar is a long pale thing that trails down his cheek, and the only part of the injury that escapes the eyepatch. Under the shadow of his hood, it’s barely noticeable. 

He trails a half-step after you and Aegon, clearly unsure. You don’t blame him, it’s quite a change from within the walls of the Red Keep, but an exhilarating one at that. Arm in arm, you and Aegon lead the way, moving smoothly through the crowds to one of your favorite haunts, a little brothel tucked away near the edge of the city. 

You can hear the sounds of pleasure emanating from within before you even step foot in the building, and the area around the door is crowded with hangers-on, men who can’t pay their whores dues. Aegon pushes through them all easily, and you glance back to make sure Aemond isn’t lost before following him inside. 

The place reeks of incense, barely covering the smells of sweat and sex, but it’s familiar to you. On instinct, your eyes scan the crowd of the main chamber, searching for your favorite whore, a beauty named Falyse with long lashes and plump lips. You can feel Aemond pull closer to you in the presence of such debauchery, and you glance down at him again, to find him already looking at you. 

“This is a brothel.” He says.

“Aye.” You grin, glancing at Aegon. 

Aegon smiles wide, clapping Aemond on the shoulder. “Tonight is the night that you become a man, brother! Your first taste of the best pleasure the world can offer.”

Catching sight of a familiar shock of black hair, you turn, meeting Falyse’s eyes through the throngs of men. “I must take my leave.” You say, petting Aemond’s head. “But you are in good hands with Aegon. And I won't be far.”

“Alright.” Aemond says. He’s still unsure, clearly, but there’s no time for hesitation once Aegon’s swept Aemond up in his frenzy. You slip away, weaving through the writhing bodies until you reach the other side of the room, where Falyse is pouring a glass of wine for another patron. She’s barely clothed, so you can feel the goosebumps that rise when you snake an arm around her middle and rest your chin on her shoulder. 

“Princess.” She greets you with a sultry purr. 

“My lady.” You return, laying your lips in the junction of her neck. “I’ve missed you so.” 

She’s quick to pull you away from the main room, behind a thick curtain to an empty bed. It’s a familiar dance that you do - she makes a show of ridding you of your clothes, running her soft hands up and down your body until you’re dripping. Then she lays her mouth on you - her wonderful mouth that could pull honey from even the most stalwart of noble women. She never lets you rest with only one peak, no she delights in working as many from you as she can, until you’re pushing her away. Then it’s your turn to return the favor, licking at her until her sweet moans fill the air and you can feel her clenching around your tongue. You’ve earned her devotion in that way - on more than one occasion, she’s confessed that no man has ever thought of her pleasure, on their own. 

“Well, I am no man.” You’d responded. 

It’s an exhausting affair, this dance, so it often ends with you curled around her on the bed, listening to her share the latest gossip of the smallfolk whilst you twist her hair into intricate braids, the kind only Targaryens wear, a sign she’s been with royalty. You’ve just finished your handiwork, laughing along to a story about the smallest cock she’s ever seen, when the curtains part, and Aemond slips into the room, clearly close to tears. 

Immediately you sit up, paying no mind to the fact that you’re completely bare. “What’s wrong?”

Holding back tears, he hesitates for a moment before climbing into your lap, pressing his face between your breasts with a shaky sigh. You clutch him to you, guilt and regret sinking into your heart. Too young. He’s always been more sensitive than you, or Aegon, you should have waited to include him in your revelry. Too young, too young. 

Falyse sits up as well, raising a questioning brow. You shake your head, and run your fingers down your brother’s back. For a while, the room is silent as Aemond’s breathing calms, and then he pulls his face away, sliding out of your lap to sit next to you instead. Looking down, he hides behind long curtains of hair, but not before you catch a glimpse of his expression. Shame.

Gently, you break the silence. “Aemond, this is my friend, Falyse. Falyse, my dear brother.”

Falyse smiles warmly, peering underneath Aemond’s hair. “A pleasure to meet you, my prince.”

“You must tell him what you were telling me.” You say. “Oh, it’s hilarious, Aemond, you must listen.”

He perks up slightly, as Falyse starts her story again - and she does get him to laugh, but the hurt doesn’t leave his eyes, and the guilt begins to pool in your stomach. 

The sapphire is weighty in the pocket of your gown, and bounces heavy against your leg as you rise from the dinner table, dipping your head towards your father before you take your leave, following your siblings out of the hall. Aemond’s nameday feast was a small affair, per request of the prince, and he only received books from both of your parents - leatherbound histories of Valyria that look entirely too large in his little arms as he carries them back to his bedroom. 

“Aemond.”

He turns at the sound of your voice, and you pluck one of the books from his hold, tucking it under your arm. With your other hand, you pull the sapphire from your pocket, and hold your closed fist out to him. “Here.”

Looking at you curiously, he holds out a hand, and you drop the sapphire into it. “A sapphire.” He says. 

“For your eye.” You explain. “I had the masons fashion it so that you can slide it into the socket. I thought it might suit you.” Jokingly, you add, “And perhaps improve your standing with the court ladies.”

He huffs out a little laugh, examining the gemstone with a careful eye. “Thank you Jaenara.”

You smile, reveling in the first laugh you’ve won from him in a very long time.

Ser Cole and Aemond behind you, you lead them through the streets of Flea Bottom in the early morning light. It feels like a bit of a betrayal, showing them all of Aegon’s usual haunts, but the situation is dire, and your brother needs to be found. Your father is dead, and it was his dying wish, your mother said, for Aegon to be king. 

The brothel looks different in the daylight, drab and empty. Gathering your skirts in one hand, you bound up the steps to the door and bang the heavy knocker twice on the wood. With any luck, you can get a hold of Falyse - if Aegon was here last night, she will let you know, free of charge. 

It is not Falyse that answers the door, but the brothel Madame, Sylvi. A familiar face to you, albeit one that you have not had the pleasure of knowing under more intimate circumstances. Her eyes scan over your face, and then Aemond and Cole behind you. Stooping into a short curtsy, she asks. “And what can I do for you, my lady?”

“I am looking for my brother.” You say. 

“He seems to be behind you-”

“My other brother. Aegon.” You clarify. “Was he here last night?”

“I’m afraid not.” She says. 

You turn back to face your companions. Cole sighs, glancing around the streets like he might spot Aegon passed out in the mud. Aemond’s eye is on the Madame, a mixture of contempt and something else stirring in his gaze. 

“Where else, then?” Cole asks. 

“I don’t know.” You wrack your mind, tracing through all of the taverns and brothels you frequent with your brother, all places that you’ve stopped before arriving here, all with the same result. “This was the last place I could think of.”

Cole swears under his breath. 

Aemond breezes back down the steps, his mouth set in a determined line. “He must be somewhere. Come, we will try the fighting pits next.”

You murmur your thanks to the Madame before following after Aemond and Cole, worry sinking into your gut. Leave it to Aegon to get swallowed up by the city when the realm needs him most. 

Meleys’ breath washes over you as you stare down the dragon’s maw, expecting to see the glow of fire any moment, signaling your end. There is no time for action - in the few seconds you would have before flame reached you, there is no way you could reach your own dragon, Vermithor, to have any hope of combatting Rhaenys. Instead, you grasp Helaena’s arm and try to ignore how your hands shake. 

Aemond steps in front of the both of you, obscuring your view of Rhaenys atop her dragon with one hand on his sword. As if something as feeble as that will do anything against a dragon. 

You wait, feeling your sister with whom you shared your mother’s womb tremble underneath your grasp. 

You wait, watching Aemond’s shoulders rise and fall with each breath in front of you.

You wait, watching as your mother steps in front of Aegon, one hand wrapped around his wrist like a vice. 

A tidal wave of relief floods through you as Rhaenys pulls at the reins, and Meleys backs off, slipping through the doors of the dragonpit just before they swing closed, casting the room into semi-darkness. Alive. You’re alive - as is Helaena, and Aemond and Aegon. All of you, alive. You watch your mother almost fall to her knees as the relief washes through her, and then you are wrapped up in Helaena’s arms as she crushes herself to your chest. You return the hug with vigor, your eyes finding Aemond’s over her shoulder. 

Alive. Alive. Alive.

Something is happening. They’ve been locked in the small council chamber even since Aemond returned from Storm’s End. It’s been hours since your brother dismounted Vhagar, soaked to the bone and looking more shaken than you’ve ever seen him. You have no idea what happened, or what’s being discussed. Now, more than ever, you curse not being born a man. 

Still, there is nothing to do but wait. 

So you do, steeping in the burning hot waters of Aemond’s bathtub, idly flipping with damp fingers through a series of poems you’d found in your great-grandfather Jaehaerys’s saddlebag when you’d claimed his dragon. Some of them you recognize as things he’d copied from other poets, some are his own musings about his wife, Alysanne. He wasn’t half bad, in your opinion. 

You snap the booklet closed as the door to the bathroom opens, and Aemond slips inside, still dressed in his soaked riding leathers. He stills when he lays eyes on you, obviously not expecting anyone to have been waiting for him. But you just smile, and set your book aside. 

“I had them draw a bath.” You say. “I figured you would want a soak, after flying in the rain. Scalding, of course.”

He smiles, and starts on the buttons of his overcoats, the fabric falling to the floor with a wet slap. His trousers are next, and then his eyepatch, set on top of your book before he slides into the bath behind you with a sigh, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. 

“Very thoughtful of you, sister.” He says, eye fluttering shut. 

“Mm.” You turn around in the tub, collecting a rag that you’d draped over the side and dipping it into the hot water, beginning to run it over his skin that isn’t submerged. For a moment, the only sounds are the echoes of droplets falling back into the tub as you wash him, until you speak again. “What business kept you in council so long?”

A tension settles in his jaw. “Lucerys Velaryon was also at Storm’s End.”

“You failed to win their allegiance?” You ask, surprised. 

“No. Lord Borros was easily won when I promised myself to one of his daughters.” You brother opens his eye. “But Lucerys is dead, at my hand.”

You set the rag aside, your mind spinning. Lucerys, dead. As if things weren’t already pointing towards all out war after your father changed his mind about the succession. “How?”

Something in his expression shifts and for a moment, he looks like he’s about to burst into tears. “Vhagar.” He says, his voice cracking slightly. “I only meant to scare him, but she knows my anger… I cannot pretend that I did not fantasize about killing him. I did not think that she would…” He swallows, collecting himself. “Our mother is less than pleased with me.”

“Our mother could never understand the bond between dragon and rider.” You say, consoling. You lay a hand gently on his face, over his scar, and run your thumb under the sapphire that sits in his eye. “You cannot be blamed for your anger at the boy who maimed you. Vhagar cannot be blamed for sharing that sentiment.” You pause. “It is a regrettable accident. And I am sorry for Rhaenyra and her children.”

He takes a shaky breath before wrapping his arms around your middle, and pressing his face into your shoulder, holding you to him as tightly as possible. Already wet from the bath, the few tears he sheds onto your skin make no difference. You say nothing, but pick up a comb from the short table beside the tub and begin to work it through his hair. 

You wake up to a sharp pain in the side of your neck, like the skin has been sliced open. One hand flies to the wound, and the other slips under your mattress, pulling the long dagger you keep there free of its sheath in a smooth motion. You sit up, the knife brandished before you, only to find your bedroom empty, the only motion being that of the curtains fluttering from the breeze of your open window. 

You pull your other hand away from your neck, expecting to see blood. Your palm is blank, the skin unmarred. In the reflection of your blade, you inspect your neck, only to find nothing. A phantom wound, perhaps from a dream. Anyone else would have simply gone back to sleep. But this is not the first time you and your sister have shared each other’s injuries. 

You rise quickly, knife still in hand as you dart from your chambers, heading down the hall at a quick clip. It’s eerily empty - not a white cloak in sight. Something is wrong, you’re sure of it, the echo of your footsteps on the stone only serving to further put you on edge as you approach the nursery. The door stands ajar, flickering candlelight seeping out into the hall from within. 

Slowly, carefully, you peer around the door. The room is empty - silent. The door creaks as you edge your way inside, turning to glance at the children’s beds. It is then that you see it - the headless body of your nephew, blood still seeping out of the stump of his neck into his bedsheets. Your blood runs ice cold, and then burning hot as rage fills you. Your gaze drops to the blood spatters on the floor, little droplets lead out into the hall. 

Readjusting your grip on your dagger, you break into a sprint, following the trail. 

Your bare feet slap in harsh rhythm against the stone, your eyes flicking back and forth from the floor to the hall in front of you as you follow the blood splatters. It is too late now. Jaehaerys is dead already, but you have to do something, you must. You can see candles being lit as you whip past door after door, the Keep slowly waking as the horror sets in, but you do not stop. 

You do not stop even when you turn an ankle as you round a corner, because there he is, a tall man in a hooded cloak, a burlap sack tightly clutched in his hand, blood dripping through the fibers. Stumbling, you push yourself back up with your hands, and with a mighty scream, leap at the mans back, knocking him forward. 

The bag tumbles to the ground, and Jaehaerys’ head rolls out, jaw slack and eyes wide. 

“The fuck-” The man growls, knocking you from his back. You fall to the ground, but force yourself to your feet again, diving forward, your dagger poised to strike. Bigger and stronger than you, he grabs your wrist, bending the bone until it snaps. Tears flood your vision as the pain washes over you, but you do not stop. Gritting your teeth, you drive your dagger into the soft skin of his side, between where his ribs end and his hips begin. 

He groans, releasing your wrist, and you leap at him again, clawing at his face as you sink your teeth into the side of his neck, biting as hard as you can. You can feel the blows he’s raining on you, but you hold on, savoring the taste of his blood as it floods your mouth, coppery and strong. His hands wrap around your broken wrist, and you wail again, your voice muffled by his skin in your mouth. 

But then there are hands around your waist, and the clank of armor fills your ears. Two white cloaks tackle the man to the ground as Aemond pulls you from his grasp, pressing your back to his chest. 

“Kill him!” You shout, eyes locked on the man as the guards beat him into submission before hauling him up to his feet. “Kill him!”

“Jaenara.” Aemond’s voice is low in your ear. “The maesters…”

You try to shake him off, but your brother doesn’t relent, gently steering you away from the guards and little Jaehaerys’ head on the floor, back into the relative calm of the halls. As the adrenaline fades, pain begins to wrack your body in waves, and you find yourself leaning against Aemond as tears fill your vision. 

“Helaena,” You gasp, chest heaving as sobs build up in your throat.

“With Cole, and our mother. Jaehaera, as well.” Aemond assures you. 

“They,” You say, working around the lump in your throat. “Put a knife. To her throat.” You bring your fingers up to the side of your neck, where the pain had awoken you. “Here.”

“I’m sure she’s being tended to.” He says. Gently, he pulls your arm up, inspecting your wrist, bent at an odd angle and already starting to swell. “We must tend to you too.”

Too exhausted to insist that there are more important things to be dealt with, you let him steer you along. 

You watch little Jaehaerys’ body bounce with the movement of the carriage in front of you, slightly obscured by the mourning veil you wear. Helaena sits beside you, pressed between you and your mother, eyes firmly pointed up at the sky. She’s empty, you can feel the echo of it in your own body, as you’re sure she can feel a hint of the festering anger you yourself are harboring. 

It will only be a matter of time now, before you don your armor and mount Vermithor for battle. You pity the fool who will fly to meet you. 

The wails of the smallfolk fill the city streets as you pass, petals filling the air as they toss handfuls at the carriages, shouting their grief in harmony. The news of Jaehaerys death had swept through the city like fire, just as your grandsire had suggested it would. Now, more than ever, the smallfolk hated Rhaenyra - there would be no public protest of the war that was brewing. 

But you cannot help but feel angered by the whole thing as your little nephew’s body shakes with the movement of the carriage in front of you. To be reduced to a martyr, at such a young age. And knowingly, by his own kin. It is an ugly, ugly thing. 

Helaena’s eyes finally drop from the sky, and your mother shifts, extending a hand to touch her arm. Helaena shrinks away instinctually, leaning further into you, and you shift, allowing her to press herself against your side, her head falling into the crook of your neck.

You do not need to speak to know what she is thinking. You rest a hand on the back of her head, and let her curl into you, feeling her heartbeat against your own. 

“Cole and I will cut them off entirely.” Aemond says, laying another marker on the map, over Rook’s Rest. “And with Rhaenyra confined to Dragonstone, it should be simple enough to take Harrenhal without interruption.”

You let your gaze sweep over the map, stopping at each marker Aemond had put down. “A clever plan.” You agree. “And Aegon also approves?”

Aemond scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair, the light from the fireplace dancing over his face. “What does it matter?”

“He is the king.” You say simply, lifting your gaze to look at your brother. “It is his war that we fight.”

“He is a figurehead.” Aemond says, rising from his seat to circle around the table, coming to stand behind you. “At the hands of our mother and grandsire. His only purpose is to lend them free reign.”

“He is our brother, and liege lord.” You say, standing from your own seat and turning to face him. “You speak treason, Aemond.”

“Mm.” Aemond hums, eye drifting over your face. “I forget, sometimes, that you are partial to him.”

“He is my brother.” You repeat. “And my Helaena is his wife.”

Silence permeates the room, and for a moment, the only sound is that of the crackling fire. But Aemond’s soft voice breaks through again. “Did you ever let him fuck you?”

The question takes you aback, and you laugh. “What?”

“In all your whoring together, did you ever let him fuck you?” He asks again, unwavering. 

“No.” You say. “I have no taste for his particular flavor of depravity.” Not that Aegon ever tried, either. That wasn’t - isn’t - the nature of your friendship. 

“Hm.” Aemond hums, turning back to the map sprawled across the table. “Vermithor will be needed to secure the Riverlands.” He continues, like the discussion never strayed from battle in the first place. He leans over the map, tracing a long finger over the stretch of the reach. 

“Of course.” You agree, confused. 

It’s been too long since you last did this. 

Wine flowing through your veins, you walk arm in arm with Aegon, leading the way to the old brothel, his friends and squire - the reason for the night - behind you. The crowd parts as you step through the brothel doors, a hush falling over the gathered patrons. The quiet only lasts for a moment before whispers take its place, hushed words about the king himself being a patron tonight. 

Aegon, of course, pays these whispers no mind, dropping your arm in favor of grasping his squire by the shoulders, speaking grandly about the pleasures of manhood. It makes you think of a similar night many years ago, when you’d brought Aemond to this very brothel. Guilt floods you for a moment, but is quickly quelled when soft hands wind over your shoulders, and a sultry voice whispers in your ears. 

“Princess.”

You turn, delighted to see Falyse - delighted enough, that with the wine already in you, you plant a wet kiss to her lips before resting your forehead against hers. “My sweet lady, my own heart.” You croon. “It has been far too long.”

She laughs, raspy and seductive, her eyes crinkling at the edges with her smile. “I did not know that all three of you would be joining us tonight.” She says, winding her arms about your shoulders. “Just like when you were younger.”

“Mm.” You find yourself agreeing before her words really register. “Wait, three? Is Aemond-?”

But it’s too late, you know it is as soon as Aegon’s raucous laughter booms through the room. You turn away from Falyse, finding your brother amidst the crowd, having abandoned his squire in favor of sinking next to Aemond on a bed, a wide grin crawling over his face. 

You can’t make out what he’s saying, but you can see Aemond shrinking in on himself, curling away from the Madame, who he’d been laying with. Winding Falyse’s hands away from your shoulders, you bring her knuckles to your lips, pressing a kiss there. “Another time, my lady.”

“Of course.” She says, understanding flashing across her gaze. 

You push through the gathered patrons towards your brothers, but Aemond meets you halfway, stalking through the crowd naked as the day he was born, clearly fuming. He pauses when his eye falls on you, clearly not having expected you to be here as well, and you watch his lip tremble ever so slightly. But he does not cry. 

“Aemond.” You say, unsure how to broach the subject. 

“Jaenara.” He returns, icy.

A pause stretches between you, and Aemond turns to leave, but you grab his arm, stopping him. “Come back home with me.” You say. 

You think he’ll spurn you, hiss some insult that’s more for Aegon than for you, but he sighs, “Fine.”

He does not speak to you until you stand at his bedroom door. You feel as though you should say something, apologize on Aegon’s behalf in some way, but you don’t get the chance before Aemond is beckoning you into his chambers with a quiet, “Come.”

You do, not realizing what he wants until the door is shut behind you and you’re pressed against it, your brother's lips pressing insistently into yours. You only hesitate for a moment before kissing him back, giving him what he wants. He melts into it, softening as he realizes that you won’t reject him, cradling you into his arms. 

When he pulls back, his voice is breathy. “I’m going to kill him.”

It sends a spike of fear through you, thinking of one brother killing the other, but the look in Aemond’s eye leaves no room for doubt. “I’m sure you will.”

Apparently the correct answer, Aemond resumes kissing you with a fervor, steering you away from the door and towards his bed. “I’ll kill him,” He says, rushed between kisses. “And without an heir, I’ll take his place.” His hair tickles the side of your face as he presses his nose into your neck. “Make you my queen, as he had Helaena.” He nips at the thin skin, making you hiss in pain, pulling at his hair. 

He lifts his head as he pushes you down onto his bed, crawling over you. “You’re betrothed to another.” You say as he begins to pull at the laces of your dress. 

“As are you.” He responds. You bat his hands away from the laces as soon as you hear fabric rip, and begin undoing them yourself. “Both empty promises made by our grandsire for armies.”

You shimmy out of your overdress, and kick it off the edge of the bed, left in your shift. Aemond strips himself of his shirt before tugging at the hem of your slip, urging you to take it off as well. Before long, you’re both naked, and he’s hovering over you again, trailing his nose along the swell of your breast. You take the opportunity to free him of his eyepatch, enjoying the glitter of the sapphire you gave him. 

His eye finds yours as he quietly asks, “Will you let me?”

As if you really even have a choice in the matter. “Yes.”

That’s all the permission he needs to lift your hips with one hand and slide his cock into you with the other. You wrinkle your nose as the sting of the stretch as he works himself into you, his eye fluttering shut. With a deep groan, he begins rocking himself in and out, grinding into you slowly. It’s not the most pleasure you’ve ever felt (no, he would be hard-pressed to compete with Falyse), but it isn’t unpleasant. 

You relax into the bed as he begins to fuck into you in earnest, whimpering to himself as he takes a breast in his mouth, lost in your body. You suppose you should have expected something like this, eventually. It was odd, that he’d asked if Aegon had ever fucked you, but you hadn’t thought that he himself wanted to. Now, his intentions in asking seem obvious.

He releases your breast with a pop before tucking his face against your neck, words trickling directly from his lips to your ear. “My Jaenara…” He moans. “Always so good to me. So kind, so sweet, so fierce. Hm.” He pants heavy, his hips knocking against yours frantically. “Seeing you covered in that mans blood, the chunk you ripped out of his neck with your teeth… my dragon.” He croons. 

You wind a hand into his hair, wincing as your wrist twinges in pain. It’s gotten better under the maester’s care, but it still complains when you move it in certain ways. The pain vanishes quickly though, and you begin to stroke Aemond’s hair just how he likes, pressing your lips to his temple. 

He whimpers again, almost like he’s in pain. “I will put us on the Iron Throne.” He swears, voice breathy. “Our dragons will burn Rhaenyra and her armies alive, and it will be our line that continues the tradition of our ancestors.” He all but growls it, snapping his hips with such force that you have to stop yourself from slamming into the headboard. “I swear it to you.”

“Aemond.” You gasp, overwhelmed with the vigor of his thrusts. The last thing you would have expected was for Aemond to get you to peak, but you can feel yourself getting closer, the combination of his rough fucking and devoted words stirring your insides. 

“Tell me that you are mine.” He says, demanding and begging at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm, pleasure no doubt creeping up on him the same as it is for you. 

“I’m yours.” You swear. “I’m yours, Aemond.”

He whimpers, and it’s the whining sound that sends you over the edge, your body tensing in his hold as you clench around him. With a loud gasp, you come, and Aemond’s thrusts reach breakneck speed. 

“You’re mine.” He whispers in your ear. “Mine, mine-” He comes with a rough groan, pressing his hips to yours and holding them there. He sinks into you immediately, collapsing onto your chest, his breath coming in pants against your skin. 

You bask in the quiet of his room as his cock softens within you, mind spinning as you take in what just happened. “Did you mean it? All that you said?” You ask softly, stroking his hair again. 

“Mm.” He affirms, sleep heavy in his voice. 

You say no more as he drifts off to sleep on your chest, cock still inside you. He intends to make you his queen. To kill Aegon and take his place. 

You love Aegon, you do. He is your brother, and one of your closest friends. But you would be lying if you said he was a good king. Perhaps it would not be so bad, if Aemond were to take his place, especially with you at his side. 

But does Aegon really deserve to die?

Aemond is insatiable now that he knows you won’t spurn his advances. You can’t say that you mind too much. 

Your elbows resting on the table before you, he takes you from behind as you both pore over a map of Westeros, markers indicating where your forces lay. A letter from Ser Cole sits open on the table beside you, informing Aemond of his most recent conquest as he nears Rook’s Rest. You run your fingers against the wood of the table, moving pieces along the map like chess, the sounds of Aemond’s breathy groans and the rustle of your skirts shifting as he takes you the only sounds in the room. 

“You will have to - ah - take flight on Vhagar soon then, if you are to meet Cole at Rook’s Rest.” You say. 

“Hm.” Aemond’s hips smack into yours as he leans over your back, moving the piece that symbolizes Vhagar to the edge of the crownlands. “The conquest should not take more than a day. Any longer and I would send Aegon in my stead - I would be loathe to leave you.” He jokes, pressing his nose against your neck. 

“Mm.” You hum, letting him stretch you further across the table and angle your hips to better receive his thrusts. Planting his hands on your hips, he pulls you back to meet each snap of his hips, the map forgotten as he pleasures himself with your body. There’s something intoxicating about his unwavering devotion, something rewarding. It feels like all the time you spent comforting him as a child is paying off; after all, he intends to put you on the throne. You wind a hand behind you to caress his cheek. 

He melts into the touch, extending his body over your back, pressing himself to you completely. It’s intoxicating, the power you have over him. The simplest of touches, the softest of words, and the most fearsome dragon rider in the world bends completely to your will. 

“You must tell Aegon of your plans.” You say, laying your head down on the table to peer at the man behind you. 

“He will no doubt find out on his own.” Aemond says. “Either way, they don’t involve him. Rook’s Rest is nothing Cole and I cannot take on our own.”

“And if someone were to show you the same insolence if you were the king?” You retort, biting back a gasp as his thrusts increase pace. 

“When.” He corrects, almost growling. “When I am the king. And I would exile them for such an insult.”

“Yet- mm, Aemond, ah - you do not fear such retribution from Aegon.” You say. You know he’s getting close, his soft pants turning into longer whines, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. You clench as tightly as you can, reveling in the breathy moan you pull from him as he stills, hips still pressed against yours, spent. 

You feel him make himself comfortable against your back, not bothering to pull away just yet. “Our brother is a fool, not fit for the duties of the crown. How can one be expected to respect such an undeserving monarch? No,” He says, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto any patch of your skin he can reach. “We will be much greater.”

It’s treason, even just entertaining thoughts of taking the throne from the rightful king, but the more Aemond speaks of it, the more you find yourself indulging in the fantasy. Never before did you truly consider what it would be to be queen, but after truly thinking about it, you find yourself enchanted with the idea. With anyone else, you have no doubt that you would have been subjected to the life your mother lived, but as Aemond’s queen, you would have more power than any woman before you. 

“You sound so sure already.” You tease, pushing yourself up on your elbows as he slips away, tucking himself back into his trousers and pulls your skirts back down over your legs. 

“That is because I am.”

Aegon presses his face into his hands, groaning. While he’s not looking, you slide the wine decanter away from him. Full when you sat down, it’s almost empty now, most of the contents having been poured down the kings throat. He’s been drinking more, in the aftermath of little Jaehaerys’ death. You can’t blame him, of course, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t concerning. 

“They plot behind my back.” He says, his face still hidden in his hands, his elbows resting on the table. “Aemond. My own hand - and our mother, she…” He trails off. “They mock me. Think me an idiot. I cannot…” He reaches for the decanter, only to find it missing, and lifts his head out of his hands. “My wine.”

“Perhaps you’ve had enough.” You say, doing your best to be firm. 

He looks at you blankly before gesturing for the decanter again. With a sigh, you fold, sliding the container across the table to him. Let him drink himself to death if he wishes - it would be a better end than whatever Aemond is planning. 

It’s hard to look at Aegon, knowing that your other brother is plotting his demise. He doesn’t deserve to die, not after all he’s been through. Sometimes, you think you know Aegon better than yourself. You’ve seen him at his drunkest, in the streets of Flea Bottom, at his most desperate before his coronation, at his lowest, after the death of his son. He never asked for any of this. He never asked to be king. He doesn’t deserve to die because of a crown he never desired. 

But one cannot simply resign from the throne. 

You watch as Aegon empties the rest of the decanter into his glass, and then misses the table as he sets the pitcher down, shards shattering across the tiled floor. He stares down at the floor, eyes blank. “Ah.”

“Aegon.” You groan. 

He flaps his hand. “Someone will clean it up. Someone always does.”

“Perhaps it is behavior such as this that deters Cole and Aemond from sharing their plans with you.” You say, utterly annoyed at your brother’s actions. 

Aegon scoffs. “As if you weren’t also kept in the dark.” His eyes lazily slide to yours, and you don’t look away quickly enough, it seems, because he catches it in your gaze. “They told you? And not me, their king?”

“I cannot help that our brother seeks my opinion on such matters.” You say. 

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Aegon demands, angrily rising from his seat to level an accusatory finger at you. “You are supposed to be my closest confidant, I expect you to be on my side-!” He cuts himself off. “But no. Of course not. As soon as Aemond gets his claws into you you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Aegon,” You try, placating. “I meant no offense. In fact, I urged Aemond to tell you himself-”

“No, no, you cannot fool me again! I am not as stupid as you think me to be, I am not.” He shouts, harshly backing away from the table as you rise from your seat. There’s an anger in his eyes that you’ve never seen directed at you before, and it gives you pause, guilt and shame sinking into the pit of your stomach. What were you thinking, going behind his back like this? He is your brother, one of your closest friends, your king. Curse Aemond and all his sickly sweet words. 

“Aegon-”

A loose hand thrown up in the air, he silences you with a harsh glance before stalking out of the room, leaving you alone with the shattered pieces of the decanter for company. 

Aegon returns to you on a litter, melted into his armor by dragonfire, barely conscious. The smell of charred flesh and dragon blood fills the hall as the kingsguard rush him to the maesters, and you press yourself as far into the wall as you can to let them pass. There is no rage in you, only shock and despair. You had not thought it would be so soon, that Aemond had his revenge. 

“Jaenara.”

You turn at the sound of his voice, and he stops in front of you, pulling off his riding gloves and tucking them into the pocket of his leathers. There’s an energy about him that you haven’t seen before. Leftover adrenaline crackles over his skin, the pupil of his good eye blown wide, almost lustful. 

“What have you done?” You demand, cringing at the frightened quality of your voice. 

“What I planned to do.” He says, taking you by the arm. “Are you not delighted? Aegon is indisposed, he will be crippled for the rest of his life - however many short years he has left, in this state. None will stand in our way.”

“I…” You aren’t sure how you feel. Aegon isn’t dead, but he will be in incredible pain for the rest of his life. Likely, he won’t be able to walk on his own, or ever ride his dragon again. It is an awful fate for someone you love. But you cannot pretend a part of you - the same part seduced by Aemond’s ambition - isn’t elated at the downfall of the king. 

“Come.” Aemond says, tugging you away from your palace pressed against the rough hewn stone of the Keep walls. You fall into pace beside him, stumbling over your own feet as you process how reality is shifting around you at this very moment. Aemond and the council will have to speak on Aegon’s behalf, puppeteering him even more so than before. You are one step closer to ascending the throne. Your brother is half-alive, melted into the armor of his namesake. 

You don’t realize where you are until Aemond is pushing you down onto his bed with one hand and rucking your skirts up around your waist with the other. He does not wait for you to react before he scoops your hips up to insert himself into you, groaning in relief as he slides home. “My queen.” He gasps throatily, pillowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Have I pleased you?”

“Mm.” You hum, unable to say the words ‘yes, of course’. It proves to be enough though, for Aemond sighs again, slowly beginning to grind his hips against yours. It’s more fervent than his usual fucking, spurred on by the bloody battle he’s just come from. You can smell the smoke in his hair from where it lays across your face. 

“It will not be long now,” He says, breathy and rough. “Soon, you and I will sit the throne. Have our own heirs - will you give me an heir?” He asks. “Will you give me more than one?”

“As many as you’d like.” You choke out. There isn’t another option for you now, not with Aemond so intent on having you by his side when he takes his place as king. As you’re sure he will. 

“We will put Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame.” He declares, placing his hands under the small of your back, causing you to arch against him. Holding the tops of your hips, he fucks you against him feverishly. It does not take long for him to finish, already keyed up on the high of his plans coming to fruition. 

He collapses against your chest with a heavy sigh, and instinctually, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“I love you.” He whispers against your skin. 

It’s the first time he’s said the words aloud, though you’ve known it for a very long time. Of course Aemond loves you. 

“As I, you.” You return. 

What you can’t decide, is if you feel the same.

[greenandsorrow]

Hiya I was wondering if you could do a prompt where fem reader is in [as in actress] in all the slashers movies even if it's as a background character? How they would react to her?Have a nice day no worries if you don't get to it!

Greetings, slasher community! This is my first work featuring our delicious psychos, unless you count my platonic Pennywise multi chap (I know he's not technically a slasher, but still). Hopefully, I've covered most of them♥️

Disclaimer?: I didn't do Art the Clown because I haven't watched Terrifier yet –but trust me, once I do, I'm sure it'll turn into an unhealthy obsession. Accept my apologies for now.

Aside from the obv gory nature of the whole thing, it's mostly sfw, with only minor suggestive innuendos. Don't try these relationship dynamics irl.

Featuring: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Ghostface (in the vague sense), Leatherface, The Grabber, Pennywise (1990), Pennywise (2017), William Afton because he's an undead serial killer and because I can (book, game, movie, not Springtrap this time), +BONUS CHARACTER

~the slashers x fem!actress!reader

Michael Myers 🏠🎃

The living room is silent except for the audio of Scream playing on the TV. You're lounging on the couch, mindlessly watching -until Michael, standing by the wall like a shadow, suddenly pauses the screen.

You blink. "Uh… what?"

Michael remains completely still as he observes the paused frame. A frame of you mid-sprint in the background of the classic horror movie, being chased by Ghostface. Anyone else would argue about whether that's really you, but Michael already knows. He's seen you move like this before. Maybe he's even chased you this way.

Without a word, he switches discs. He presses forward on the console.

And there you are -blurry in the background of a trick-or-treating scene in some other horror media, dressed as a generic babysitter, chatting with another actress. It's barely a second of screen time.

Michael turns his masked face toward you, his posture unreadable.

You shrug. "I needed money. It was just background gigs."

He keeps staring.

Stalker mode: activated.

Jason Voorhees ⛺🪓

You're leaning against his shoulder, a throw blanket draped over both of you.

Jason tilts his head, then turns to you, then back at the screen, then to you again.

If he could speak, he'd be asking "When was this?"

If he cared about emotions, he'd be offended.

You've been in so many slasher movies and never once did you mention it... Are you okay? Have you been running from psychos your whole life? He's almost worried about you.

Expect some extra protective hovering and a machete presented as a gift of comfort.

Freddy Krueger 🔥🌙

"Oh-ho-ho! Look at you, Hollywood! Running for your life again! What's your IMBD looking like, sweetheart? Professional Screamer?"

Freddy cackles, pausing and rewinding just to enjoy your panicked face.

"Damn, you're good. Ever considered coming to MY movies?" He waggles his claws at you. "Bet I could give you some real nightmare material." He's joking. Mostly. But you might want to lock your bedroom door tonight.

Just in case.

Ghostface (in general) 📞🔪

The moment your familiar figure flashes across the screen, Ghostface pauses the movie so fast the remote nearly cracks in his grip.

"Well, well, well… what do we have here?" His voice drips with amusement, though there's a sharp edge of something else... Interest? Possessiveness? A touch of jealousy? Hard to say.

He leans forward, taking in every detail. "You didn't tell me you were in Scream, getting killed by other Ghostfaces -or Halloween, or Friday the 13th, or literally every horror movie ever made.... Even in Child's Play?!"

He clicks his tongue, pretending to be offended. "And here I thought we had something special."

His gloved fingers tap against your thigh as he considers. "So, do you always run from killers, or are you just playing hard to get?"

A chuckle follows, dark and playful. "You know, I could give you a much more… hands-on experience than any of these amateurs."

He lets the movie roll again, but now he's watching you, not the film. "Final girl, background character, victim... Doesn't matter. You'll always be my favorite scream queen."

Leatherface 🪚🌾

Leatherface watches in silence. A chainsaw in his lap, forgotten.

He doesn't understand movies too well, but he does understand that's you being chased by someone who isn't him.

Excuse me?

You let someone else do the chasing? And you never told him?

Next thing you know, he's pacing, huffing under his breath. Expect extra possessiveness and a LOT of lingering looks.

Also, if that actor playing Ghostface suddenly goes missing… you know nothing.

The Grabber (Albert Shaw) 🎩🎭

The room is dimly lit, the glow of the TV flickering against the walls as A Nightmare on Elm Street plays. He turns to you, eyes glinting behind the sockets of his signature mask. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. "Look at that."

His voice is smooth, almost teasing. "You're so good at being scared."

He fixates on the screen, watching the way your body moves, the way you fight to survive. Something about it simply delights him.

"You know, you'd look even better in my basement" he muses, his tone almost affectionate. "No cameras. No audience. Just you and me."

His gloved fingers tap against the armrest. "I wonder if you'd last as long as they let you in the movies…"

Then, suddenly, he laughs -light, breathy, as if the thought genuinely amuses him. "Maybe, you'd last even longer... If I want you to."

Pennywise (1990) 🎈🍿

Bob Gray is having the time of his life watching you in all these horror movies. He's laughing, cackling, absolutely thriving.

"Y'know, I could've given you real horrors to perform, kiddo!" His grin stretches wide. "And that running? Pfft! Amateur work! You should see how kids run from me!"

"Oh-ho! There you are again, kiddo! Look at you run! And run! And run some more! Boy, you really know how to make a monster work for it!"

But then, he sees him. His replacement. His knock-off.

The smile fades. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, squinting at the screen like a father seeing his daughter bring home the wrong guy.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Look at this guy. Thinks he's scary." He flicks a dismissive palm at the screen. "Ooooh, I'm tall! Ooooh, I drool all over myself! Ooooh, I wear frilly clown pants like I just crawled out of a Victorian nightmare!"

He turns to you, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You fought this guy?"

A wheezing laugh escapes him. "Honey, you downgraded! Big time!"

"He tastes fear? Kiddo, I invented that shit. He's just doing a cheap impression of yours truly. And let's not even talk about that goofy-ass head-tilt he does."

He jerks his head side to side in an exaggerated impression. "What's the matter, buddy? Need a chiropractor?"

With a smirk, he throws an arm around you, pulling you close like some sleazy salesman. "Listen, sweetheart, if you really wanna be haunted by a clown, why not go with the original? Hmm?"

His sharp teeth flash you a smile. "I'm funnier. I'm nastier. And I won't just stand there like some awkward mime in oversized shoes."

Pennywise (2017) 🎪🩸

Pennywise watches, slowly tilting his head. Then tilting it more. And more.

"You run so well" he purrs, voice thick with amusement. "You know… I could chase you better."

He grins, showing sharp teeth. "Would you like to practice?"

Is he joking? Is he serious? It doesn't matter.

The moment he spots you in IT -in a grainy, VHS quality shot of Derry- his entire body stiffens. Then, his gloved fingers start twitching against his knees. His lips part in something between a sneer and a pout.

"You… you were in his movie?" His voice drops into a guttural growl. His yellow eyes flick between you and the screen, utterly insulted. "That knockoff? That circus reject?"

For a moment, he says nothing. Just stares.

Then, suddenly, he bursts into shrill, mocking laughter. "Ahaha! Oh, I get it! You were doing charity work!"

He claps his hands together, the sound unnerving.

"Helping the less fortunate! That's just so sweet of you!"

He stops laughing a little too abruptly. He looms closer now, voice dipping into something almost sultry, eyes gleaming in the flickering light.

"Tell me, little star…" His grin is wide, impossibly sharp.

"Did he taste you, too?" His head jerks to the side with a sickening crack. "Or were you saving yourself for someone better?"

Before you can answer, his arms snap around you, yanking you into his lap. His breath, hot and damp, ghosts over your throat.

"You're mine now" he coos, teeth just barely grazing your skin.

"My movie. My horror. My little leading lady." His grip tightens possessively.

William Afton (Book Version) 🐰🔦

Book Afton doesn't just watch the screen.

He studies it.

Cold, calculating eyes track every movement you make, every scream, every desperate attempt to escape. The slight twitch of his lips is the only sign of amusement -well, that and the way his fingers tighten around his armrest just a little too hard.

"All those killers" he murmurs, voice as smooth as velvet. "And yet, you always slip through their fingers. Fascinating."

His smile is thin, mirthless. "I wonder… is it luck that keeps you alive, dear girl?"

His fingers reach out, slow, deliberate, tracing a ghost of a touch on your wrist.

"Or instinct?"

His eyes glint dangerously. "I'd like to find out."

And then, he moves.

One second, he's across the couch. The next? You're caged against the armrest, his breath chilling your skin.

"You scream so pretty for them." His voice dips lower, like he's enjoying the chase. "Let's see how pretty you scream for me."

William Afton (Game Version) 👾📺

"We do love a good game of chase in this establishment." He smirks tiredly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Perhaps you'd like a private audition?"

That's a yes whether you like it or not.

"Hah" he exhales, voice deep, rich and unmistakably British. "Now, that's just precious."

His pale eyes dilate as he watches you on his computer screen, just another background character in a slasher film. "You're terrified, aren't you?" His smirk grows. "And yet, you survived. Brave, little thing."

He clicks his tongue, straightening.

"You know…" he begins, casual, like talking about the weather. "Slashers today are so messy. Bloody, predictable, boring…"

His fingers flex, like he's imagining them wrapped around something. "But me? I was crafted for this. A mind sharper than any knife, a body that refuses to die…"

His smirk sharpens, dark amusement flickering in his irises. "And of course... I don't just chase, darling. I build my nightmares."

He watches your reaction, drinking it in. "Animatronics, trap rooms, hidden passageways… There's no running when the entire building is designed to keep you in."

A low chuckle escapes him. "Now… wouldn't that be fun?

"Oh? No, no, darling! I'm not going to hurt you... I thought you'd be impressed by... this. By my brilliance. Can we at least have a drink later?"

William Afton (Movie Version) 🍕🗃️

Afton watches in eerie silence.

"Hmm."

His expression is unreadable, but you can feel the gears turning in his head. "You have a habit of escaping things, don't you?"

A pause. Then, a half smirk.

"How interesting." He doesn't say more, but from that day on, you swear he watches you just a little too closely. Maybe you shouldn't have let him see that.

"Ohh, now we're talking!" William practically purrs, leaning back on the couch with an easy grin.

"Look at you! Little horror darling. Final girl energy, but still gets caught. Mmm, chef's kiss."

He actually makes the gesture, grinning at the screen like a director admiring his finest work.

Then, his expression shifts. Turns sharper. Hungrier

"But you know, sweetheart… these guys? Hack jobs." He gestures lazily at the killers on-screen.

"Me? I play for keeps."

His fingers trail down your arm, slow, teasing. "Never made you wonder if the monster really wanted to hurt you… or just wanted to keep you?"

He laughs, the sound warm, playful -dangerous.

bonus~

Slender Man 🌲🚫

The static hums through the speakers before the screen distorts. The lights flicker. Something in the air shifts... and you know before even turning your head -he's watching.

Slender Man stands in the shadows, unmoving, unreadable. He has no eyes, no expression, no face -and yet, the pressure of his gaze coils around you like an unseen force. A protecting one, to your relief.

You appear on the screen, a fleeting glimpse -a background figure, passing through some darkened corridor in a forgotten horror film. His head tilts, impossibly slow, almost… curious.

A long limb raises, fingers tapering into nothingness. He reaches -not toward the screen, but toward you.

The images on the television distort again. The signal is lost, replaced by static.

A silent message. A warning.

Or an invitation.

Then, the shadows stretch. The dark pools at the edges of the room, deepening, swallowing the corners. The walls feel further away than they should be.

A whisper brushes the nape of your neck, though no words are spoken.

Every contribution is much appreciated! Your kindness means the world to me! Thank you so much!!! CLICKHERE ♥️ (PayPal link)

My masterlist.

Divider by @strangergraphics.

It/Fnaf taglist, you might like this (@satubby @sketchist-art @urdeftonesgrrrl @vampirecrow38 @lilac-and-lavender @sra7riddle-malfoy)

[lustlovehart]

HI

Che’nya. In the Monster AU. I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO PUT HIM IN BUT TOO MUCH OF A COWARD TO SEND AN ASK. BUT HERES A VERY LONG IDEA ASK

So heres my idea: A Kitsune / Cheshire Cat Combo, and considering he’s already canonically overpowered, it’s safe to say he’s insanely op with the Kitsune bonus.

The GOD LEVEL Illusion magic he must have bro, plus the LONG LONG list of the Cheshire Cats abilities with the shorter but still lengthy list of Kitsune abilities? Plus Feline senses? He may be breaching Malleus tier.

But just like in the original game, he’s so unassuming that you don’t notice.

——-

You originally meet him as a stray, strangely colored (purple and magenta obvs) cat and take him in.

However you failed to notice his shadow had nine tails instead of the one.

You were usually more focused on convincing Rollo to stop trying to throw hands with the cat over what seemed like normal (orange) cat shenanigans, although he was convinced the feline was a devil of some sort.

Neige is genuinely….too frightened to say anything? One look into those lamplight eyes and he changes the subject at rapid speed. Maybe he was hoping the cat didn’t lunge for his wings. Yea, thats totally it.

Jacks no better, mostly having staring contests with it and giving you gruff hints that “that cats not what you think it is”, only to be met with the obvious Cat VS Dog (joking) accusations.

It’s not until it follows you to the Hospital that you begin to find out what it..he…both work…truly is capable of.

The shortcut route through the forest usually seemed never ending, slowly warping more and more, only slightly.

On a night you don’t particularly wish to walk, A small door appears in a red oak tree, the Hospitals looming figure on the other side. As you take a cautious step across the threshold, you feel a swirling in your stomach, and a drop.

But sure as hell, you’re at your destination in record time.

Riddle nearly pops a stitch in shock when you throw out the jest on it after a couple months of using it after the incident , that he should of told you there were portals so you didn’t have to walk all the time, and you were grateful for it.

A sinking feeling follows after you discover that there are no portals near the forest, nor nearly any average monsters capable of creating one.

Leona? Maybe. Azul? 60/40 at best. Kalim? Perhaps yes, if someone wished it. Vil? He has to access the hells somehow. Idia? Is it a question, the Underworld doesn’t have an portable elevator, you know. Malleus? Likely but doubtful if he would find the need to. Lilia? Also likely.

But creating portals that are long lasting takes much preparation and choice of location is VITAL.

Making a “casual transport” portal on a whim from a tree? One leading to the hospital? Theres only one person he can think of that’d do such a thing.

You haven’t met anyone named Che’nya, have you? Or Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker?

Are you certain? Positive?

Well, one can never be sure with him. He’s the one, and only, Cheshire Kitsune. A master of magic capable of bending reality itself. He’d seen the man project his face onto the moon itself as a prank. No, he’s entirely quite serious! With Trey as another witness!

After some time, you leave through the portal again, but instead, find yourself in a different forest. One with glowing butterflies, floating lanterns and candles, windchimes and singing flowers.

In a small wooden pavilion, a being waves a clawed and painted figure as he orchestrates their song, humming along and floating casually as the long striped tails of Lavender and Magenta sway in the wind with the long sleeves of his yukata.

On fluffy ears, several earrings rattled as he turned to you, grinning, a mysterious smile within those lamplight eyes that simply screams “I know something you don’t”.

Huh. Where have you seen those eyes before?

Once the “illusion” fades, you’re back where you began, on the other side of the portal.

That night, as you lie awake trying to remember where you’ve seen those eyes, you remain blissfully unaware they belong to the creature purring away in your arms.

——————-

SORRY I YAPPED BUT THERES MY IDEA :D

ENJOY.

AHHH CHENYA KITSUNE CONTENTTTT. I love when people write stuff like this in my inbox, do it more, I’ll eat the writing(⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃. I like the idea of Chenya being on par with Malleus, the contrast is actually kinda funny! Imagine looking between a majestic Kitsune glittered with tails and fancy ornaments. Meanwhile there’s a moss-covered gargoyle next to him. They’re both op in this scenario, yet somehow the latter still has more power??!!!

(Writing under cut)

(Sprinkling some ideas of the Nekomata from last ask…) Kitsune + Nekomata is truly a fun mix.

I imagine here, your first meeting with Chenya isn’t actually in his cat form, but rather when you come across a wounded civilian slumped against a tree. If you looked down his shadow definitely would’ve betrayed his true nature, but you’re much too caring to pay attention. He’s immediately hooked the moment you touch him, his once round eyes quickly slimming into slits before reverting. Your touch is so soft… but all humans are. What truly attracts him… from the smell of it he can tell you’ve hunted low ranks monsters before. Yet here you are, restoring the health of a mysterious monster NRF hasn’t even documented!

When you leave him, he’s quick to follow the trail, appearing as a purple cat the moment you step foot on Rollos doorway.

The add ins of other characters is so fun!!! Imagining Rollo and his work husband monster hunter reflexes immediately having him reach for his weapon and swatting at the feline like a fly. You watch as it dodges with a speed and precision so unlike a cat. Rollo being jealous over the stupid pest you took in… It’s truly unfair, now all your attention is given to the wretched monster instead of bathing him with your affection. (He knows simply bc he’s one too, but telling you that would most definitely give him away.) Rollo acts more like the neglected wet cat that it does, it’s quite funny. If you attempt to cheer him up, resting your head on his shoulder like usual, he’ll smile before getting clawed by the magenta animal that splits you up.

“Truly… You actually enjoy this thing??”

Neige, Neige, Neige… He feels some sort of connection to the purple fur that lays in your lap, as if he’s met the thing before… Perhaps in another life? But, he can’t help but feel a little scared when he mistakes the cats cuddly ministrations for affection, instead of deception. He tries petting it and instead it jumps on his wings, as if attempting to claw off all the white from his wings. Neige has never been hated by animals before, so he feels guilty when he has to throw it off, but… if it went any further there’s not doubt you would notice black feathers hidden among the ivory. He stares at it dead in the eye ready to sweeten his transgression with an apology. He backs off when yellow eyes peer at him with the intelligence of something much higher than a cat. Oh yeah no that’s definitely a monster.

“Uhm, maybe we should find a different owner…? I don’t want you to overwork yourself! You have so much work in yourself from your job and and…! Oh, you don’t want to…? I see…”

Jacks a funny case, he doesn’t have the traits of a werewolf as he’s entirely human (totally), but the countenance of a dog still could be used to describe him. The way he guards you, the way he seems so happy when you appear (despite his face, if he had a tail, everyone knows it would be wagging the moment you get there.), even to the way he responds to your praise.

“Amazing job Jack! The way you got rid of them so fast was so—!”

The purple cat you took in jumps out into your arms, shutting your compliment down as quick as it came. You left it at home… How is it in Jacks room??

Jack doesn’t realize the way he snarls at the feline with a ferocity you only see when he’s working. It’s only when you pull his ear does he snap out of it.

Ahhh!!! Riddle fawning with worry at your confession. Portals?? His doctorate skills have him vicariously checking all parts of your body. Looking at skin for any sign of bruises, lumps, possibly even curses. You’re left dazed wondering how him just touching your body has anything to do with these portals, but then he cautions you with flick of the forehead (If you were anyone else he would’ve done something much harsher, but this is you).

Going through the list of Monsters capable of magic is an exhausting endeavor… Then the name Chenya appears and you’re wondering if it’s some demon.

AHH! and then meeting him? The area is so tranquil, and then you see some man standing on water, multiple tails flailing around.

Before you know it, the ominous saying leaves his lips, and he stands only inches away from your face, those sharp claws tracing a light pattern on your cheek. Disappearing quickly into the night…

And then you wake up, but rather than finding the stray cat you’ve been caring for… there’s a knock on the door, and when you open it, a familiar magenta man stands at the entrance. You can’t quite place it… but you recognize him. Thought you swear he wasn’t a human, you think.

Also, Don’t ever worry about yapping in my inbox!!! It might take awhile for me to answer, but I promise i see your rambles and love them!!!

[emo-batboy]

Somewhere out there in the DC multiverse, there’s a world where Battinson’s parents didn’t die, and he became the Lance Stroll of Formula One racing. Wayne Enterprises has an F1 team, Thomas brought Bruce to races when he was young, they indulged his love of cars until he was winning kart races at 8. He BEGGED to help design the race cars, ended up making a great car, and now Wayne has turned from a midfield team to nearly top three.

You’d think everyone hates Bruce because he’s a nepo baby, but he’s just so nice and smiley (like Lance lol) that everyone loves him anyway. His dad is the team’s chairman and pretty hands-on just like Lawrence Stroll. Fans call Bruce the F1 Princess as a joke since he’s already the Prince of Gotham, but then it sticks, and now everyone makes edits of him with tiaras on every time he makes it to the podium. He doesn’t get it, but he’s not going to complain either. His fans are just silly. (He blushes so much when anyone calls him princess to his face, though. Fight me.)

Bruce still insists on everything being black because it’s his favorite color. It was already mostly black before he joined, but now it’s even blacker. His suit is all black. The car is all black. The helmet is all black. He loves it. He looks just like the dark, regal old money rich boy you’d imagine until he’s smiling and talking about racing. (Imagine a meme with two cars next to each other, one being WE’s. It says: “Bruce’s Car v. Bruce’s Personality.” The other one is covered in glitter obv.) One time, a little girl gives him a tiara that she painted black herself and asks him to wear it if he wins. (He does win. He puts it on at the podium. He’s embarrassed the entire time. The champagne rubs some of the black away. It’s a treasured memory and sits right on top in his trophy case.)

His fellow drivers call him Brucie to tease him. He’s a bit awkward during interviews, but that just makes him endearing. He’s also tall for an F1 driver (nepo baby core) so there’s always jokes about him towering over everyone. One time, he came second to Lewis Hamilton, but you could still see he was visibly standing taller on the podium, and people would not stop making jokes about it. (It was mostly his hair, but you know how Twitter is.) Speaking of hair, it will NOT stay flat. He looks insane every time he takes his helmet off. He could be sweating for hours in there but when he takes the thing off, he looks like he’s through in a tornado. (Again, memes.) He knows so much about car mechanics, even for a driver, and will regularly start talking to other drivers or the press about the tiniest of parts in the engine or break system, unaware that everyone is completely lost. (Also memes about that.)

When he’s 23, he suffers a pretty bad crash. It knocks him out for about twenty seconds, and his mom and dad are ready to pull him completely from the sport, but he refuses to stop, and despite missing a few races to recover—his dad’s still a doctor—he ends up winning the next race and gets to stay.

During his F1 career, it’s pretty much guaranteed that he’ll get fastest laps, but he only gets podium like 40–50% of the time. There’s always drama that apparently Wayne Enterprises is trying to become top three, but they insist that they’re not as competitive. They will always have respect for every team, and it shows. They never join in on protests. They always wish the other teams luck, and they genuinely congratulate the winners. Bruce is always the first to hug the winner :)

Before Bruce joined, the Wayne team was always a midfield team, and they were perfectly comfortable with it. WE had good-looking cars, they designed good-looking cars, and they sold good-looking cars, and F1 was just a way of promoting that. Thomas loved watching the races, and he was happy to see them get podium a few times per season, and that was it.

Until Bruce became their lead driver, and he wanted to really earn his seat, and he wanted to get podium, and he wanted to design a faster car, and he wanted to win, and Thomas Wayne couldn’t say no to his son, and suddenly Wayne Enterprises was inching closer and closer to the front of the grid. Now, they’re still not The Best, but they’re a team that future drivers look up to.

During a season of DTS, Bruce is 27. Netflix films the Wayne episode when there’s a fatal crash in F2, and Bruce was nearby when it happened. He ends up crying on camera for ten minutes. They had to cut almost all of it, but we get the most gut-wrenching confessional about how after he heard the news, in that moment, he didn’t want to be an F1 driver. He admits that if he hadn’t become a driver, he was going to become a doctor like his father, and he wonders if he could have saved the driver’s life if he did that instead. “What am I really doing if I can’t help others? I could have been anything…Maybe being a driver was selfish. Maybe I don’t belong on the track anymore.”

He’s visibly distraught during the moment of silence on the day of the race, but Bruce decided to continue because he wants to make the fans and spectators happy. (That’s his job, anyway. That’s what he does.) Despite getting pole position the previous day, he doesn’t get fastest lap or make it to the podium, but he still gets fourth. He has a long talk with his father away from cameras and calls his mom. The future’s uncertain for a few days until Bruce comes back to training. To finish the episode, he says he’s going to continue driving, even if he might need a bit of time to get his confidence back, and he pledges to one day make the safest F1 car ever seen. Even if it’s part of the risk of being a driver, he doesn’t want to see any more drivers losing their lives to the sport they love.

When he’s around 35 or 40, he retires from Formula One so he can inherit Wayne Enterprises, and he takes his father’s place as chairman of the team. Since he has the time now, he holds up on his promise to make an even safer car—the designs inspiring safer car designs for other teams as well—and they pick out two incredible drivers who end up finally (FINALLY) moving Wayne Enterprises into one of the top three teams. They win the world championship twice in a row before falling back a bit and only winning it every couple of years, but they’re nonetheless fierce competitors. Bruce still has a ton of kids, some of which like F1 just like he does, but he is the only Wayne to become a Formula One driver.

I just think Battinson would love driving for F1 :)

[krispdreemurr]

ok so i finished up the chapters... have some definite thoughts so I'm just going to put down some initial rambles under the read more. spoilers for 3+4, obviously

-mike calling kris out as the fountain opener caught me off guard. it was cool seeing Susie talk herself around to getting it and even admitting that she probably would have too, but does anyone else think Ralsei dropped it suspiciously quickly?

-the channel switch mini game was so much fun but why is the golf channel in there. im so bad at video game golf. rouxls mocked me so much.

-ok ill admit the running "knock your socks off" joke got old and then swung around to incredibly funny again

-chairiel my beloved

-tenna is a cool antagonist... love the slow escalation of him getting more and more serious until he finally does that thing with Toriel. his breakdown at the end was kind of moving

-the secret boss fight took me so goddamn long until I figured out the radio feedback mechanism with the shield

-that scene after huh. kris i think managed to tell Susie something, but I'm still not sure what I think it was... i wonder if that'll show up later. will secret bosses start influencing plot?

-really liked Susie and Kris trying to explain to Toriel the next morning why they had to steal all her possessions. her facial expressions alone

-the Susie and Kris hangout sequence was great obv. the goobers. and wow Pluey real

-i dunno if I was expecting how they combined the church with the stored decorations, but it kind of ruled

-rouxls' scripture was. well. hm.

-really really love 'angel'. genuinely actually faked me out for a bit before the reveal

-seeing Kris react to that though. oof.

-its kind of cool that the main boss was so Kris focused like that and then ofc the secret boss... why was her guitar even being stored there? misplaced in a box of donations? or did Noelle get rid of it?

-ofc even with the mostly Noelle focus we got that callout about how Kris stopped caring about how she wasn't there for duets. ow.

-havent done the weird route take on this yet but I have no idea how it could go. like Susie's right there and I feel like Noelle would be really off. gonna have to check it later but I'm scared

-speaking of, did ch3 have a weird branch? i fiddled around a bit when it was just Toriel and Kris but couldn't trigger anything... those fire spells worried me tho

so yeah those are my loose initial thoughts! and if you read them all well. uh. a-april fools I'm not gonna try and hide it this late in the game

[misc-obeyme]

Omg yes lol the characters missing the hole and their reactions to it. It’d be so funny, and fun and realistic!

I'm sorry for the delayed response on this, anon, but I wanted to write some headcanons about it so bad lol! I hope you don't mind that I took the idea and ran with it.

Here they are, the demon brothers, awkwardly missing your hole and reacting in various ways to that scenario. I loved writing this lol.

Thank you for the idea!

GN!MC x the demon brothers

NSFW MDNI

Warnings: attempts at penetration? loooooool (reader receiving obvs), this is mostly jokes but it's obviously about sex so take that as you will?

Lucifer

He's embarrassed. Instantly blushing profusely. Can't look you in the eye. After a moment of strained silence, he asks if you're okay. Not that he hurt you or anything, but he's trying desperately to salvage the situation.

If you start laughing, he'll act annoyed at first, but it will definitely break the tension. After a moment, he goes into long suffering Lucifer mode. Might even say good grief. Hangs his head in shame and frustration.

Reassure him that you think it's hilarious and that it's nothing he needs to worry about. Tease him playfully, kiss him a few times, and lure him back into action. He might be stubborn about it at first, but he can't deny you anything. And so he gives in, like he always ends up doing.

He's just about to put it in correctly this time, but he pauses. You had better not breathe a word of this to his brothers, MC. He makes you take a vow of silence. You agree, giggling the whole time, which finally makes him laugh, too.

Mammon

He's surprised he missed, but he tells you not to move so he can try again. He gets real serious, concentrating on doing it right. You just bust out laughing because it's so funny. First he misses altogether and instead of getting embarrassed, he's just like wait let me try again.

Once you start laughing, he blushes and sits back, folding his arms indignantly. C'mon! Stop laughin' at him, MC! You're going to have to kiss him a bunch and hug him, too, because now he's just offended.

Eventually starts laughing with you, especially if you tell him how cute it is that he was trying so hard to get it right. Okay, well, it is pretty funny, isn't it? And he loves the way your eyes sparkle when you're laughing.

Loves it so much that he forgets his embarrassment and starts kissing you for real, already getting back into the swing of things. Actually jokes about it with you later, an inside joke that makes the two of you snicker while everybody else is just confused.

Leviathan

Might not even realize he's missed at first. Rubbing up against you instead feels so good, he's unaware of the fact that your hole's still empty. The minute you point it out, though, he completely shuts down. He's so embarrassed he doesn't even want to be near you. Scrambles away, covering his face with his hands and blushing brightly.

Reassure him quickly because if you don't, that's it, you guys are done. You might have to talk him down a little bit, let him know that there's nothing to be embarrassed about. He's so sorry, MC. How can you even stand to be with a loser like him?

Take his face in your hands and force him to look at you. Then kiss him all over. Take the initiative. He might be a little soft now, but either way you can bring it back full force with a little hand action.

Levi will need your reassurance, but you can get him to laugh if you joke about it. Tell him you think it's cute. He won't believe you, but he won't argue with you, either. At that point, he's already putty in your hands.

Satan

Realizes what he's done immediately. Blushes, but tries to act cool about it. Forgive him, MC. Let him adjust a little… if you laugh, he might be offended at first, but then he sees that it is actually pretty funny and starts to laugh with you.

In fact, at that point, he might even stop everything altogether and have a ridiculous conversation with you about positioning. Now that the tension is broken and you guys are obviously able to laugh about these things, the next step is to discuss what you both enjoy.

He will still get embarrassed and blushy if he tells you how much he would enjoy it if you put on some cat ears and a kitty bell. Blushes even more when he tells you he'd like to put those things on for you. Try not to tease him too much, but you can't help but smile at how cute it is.

You may have to distract him if you want things to pick up where they left off. It won't take much, though. If he starts talking about logistics again, just cut him off with a kiss. Then guide him into that empty hole yourself. You taking charge like that will make him forget everything he had been thinking about.

Asmodeus

Laughs right away. In fact, he starts laughing before you've even realized what's happening. Once you do, you're laughing, too. Not just because it's funny but because Asmo's laughter is infectious.

You both sit up and he has to lean against you as he giggles away. He's sorry, MC! That was just really funny. You're not upset, you fully agree. It was hilarious. You guys make a bunch of jokes about it. Jokingly asks you not to tell anyone about this mishap. He's the Avatar of Lust! He has a reputation to uphold!

Covers you in kisses because he loves how you look when you're laughing. Might even start tickling you to get you to laugh even harder. After a little bit, he asks you if you'd like to switch positions. Maybe this one wasn't working quite right? What do you think about - he has about twenty other suggestions. It's up to you whether or not you decide to actually change it up.

Once you've made your choice, though, it's easy for him to dive right back in. He's grinning, though, because he still finds it pretty funny and the two of you randomly burst into giggles in the middle of your moans.

Beelzebub

Notices right away. He's not embarrassed, just tells you what's going on. If you laugh, you'll make him laugh. Then you're laughing about it together. Beel is so cute, all blushy still from the activity, eyes closed as he laughs with you.

Sorry about that, MC. Do you want him to keep going? He'll do whatever you ask at that point. Kiss him and tell him that it's okay, to not even worry about it. And he won't. He trusts you to tell him the truth about how you feel. He's able to simply kiss you back and continue on.

And that's about it. You two laugh about it, talk about it for a minute, and then you're right back into it. He doesn't have any hang ups about it. He has no problem accepting that sometimes he makes mistakes. And you don't seem to be upset about it, so why should he be?

When he does get it right, he might say something in a joking way. Like, is this better? You're too full of his cock to give him a witty response, but your gasping, moaned out yes will be more than enough motivation for him to pick up the pace.

Belphegor

Tries to pretend it didn't happen. Hopes you didn't notice. Of course you did and if you say something about it or start laughing, Belphie will get embarrassed. You can't really expect him to be good at strenuous activity of any kind, MC. Even this. Poke fun at him a little more because it's so cute to watch him blush.

He might get annoyed to the point where he tries to stop altogether. Reassure him with some kisses. Tell him you think it's really cute and that you're happy the two of you can joke about it like this. That will get you one of those rare Belphie smiles.

He's a little off kilter now, so you'll need to get him back into it. Maybe switch positions to change things up. He loves it when you ride him, so if you just reposition yourself for that, he'll be turned back on so fast you can take it from there.

Later on he'll joke with you about it, when he's gotten over the initial embarrassment. It is pretty funny and if anything like that ever happens again, he'll just start laughing right away. You find you're just happy to listen to his laughter.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[nattanoora]

Today's clip has so many layers, I love it.

I've been wondering if Eva is really over Jakov, and to me it seems like she is getting there. I don't know, from what she says here, it looks like she just doesn't want to feel like the one who hasn't moved on, that's why she wants to start dating again. I like that, I hope they don't make her pine for him because that Eva storyline never goes anywhere in the OG, it just makes Eva 'less confident', and it's the opposite of what she wanted in her speech when she's breaking up with Jonas. I always felt like that Eva storyline does her so dirty, she deserves better! I also like it that she confides it to Nora while wanting to let the girls think she's actually into the guy she's going on a date with. From what we saw of her in s1, she's far from being a self-assured person, so that makes sense, that she still worried of how others perceive her, but not Nora. <3

There are lots of lines here that could be read as foreshadowing, let's see if it happens!

For example, Nora saying it's not like Eva is gonna marry the guy she's going on a date with, maybe it's foreshadowing to when Roko (hopefully) says 'let's get married when she tells him she wants to wait-until-marriage. And obv because the guy Nora is going on a date with IS the guy she's going to marry, but okay.

The red lipstick part, will she put on her red lipstick for their date? Will she want to look like she's very sure of herself, then? Because usually Nooras take it off in order to not look like they have put it on to look prettier for the date, or as Roko said, 'more dolled up', lmao.

It's nice that Eva asks her about her being 'so sure of herself', because it's something we know about Eva as a character, she admires Noora because she thinks Noora is this role model in her eyes, and it's good that she asks because really, this Eva totally needs some reassurance that this friend she looks up to so much is not as 'perfect' as she seems.

When she talks about alcohol and how she relies on it to not get anxious and speak her mind without caring of what people will think of her, and Nora tells her she's just as interesting sober!!!!!!!!! She also really needed to hear that, even though she makes a joke after that, probably to not let it show it's a serious issue to her.

Then there's that Nora moment where she tells Eva about the date. I do think she did that mostly to avoid more questions, like: why don't you date, Nora? When she first says 'never', she sees joking won't do, so she uses the date as a shield against that type of question. She also believes it will be just one time, and that she won't have to talk about it, and that Eva will never find out who her date was, our sweet summer child who on top of everything, isn't a fan of changes. OOF!

'If it becomes important, you'll know.' OH SHE WILL KNOW, DEAR. You're lying and have no idea of what's gonna happen between you and your date but, she so will know.

And last but not least we have her randomly asking Eva about that building. Will it be the building Roko will take her on their date or will it turn out to be nothing? Guess we'll find out on Friday!

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

could you do a toodles x child reader (platonic obv)? due to all the overwhelm from the ichor operation and all that stuff they don't understand (cuz theyre kids) they decided to have a sleepover! (ive never been in a sleepover before so idk what they'd do sksksk)

thx and take care!

Toodles With A Child Reader Having A Sleepover!

JOKES ON ME I'VE NEVER BEEN TO A SLEEPOVER TOO, DEAR ANON, BEAR WITH ME Y'ALL I DIDN'T HAVE MUCH CLOSE FRIENDS GROWING UP BAHAHAHAHA SORRY IF THIS ISN'T ACCURATE- AHEM-

This is such a cute scenario though, hehe, despite the mess that is happening around them sobs, here you go, dear anon! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-With Gardenview closing, you and Toodles at least understood that there won't be any more visitors. One thing the other toons never told you about is what is happening on the floors. They pretended that everything is fine to you two, if it was anyone that should never find out the truth in there, it's you two. You were still young and things like that, you didn't deserve to worry about this situation but sadly it wasn't like things were rainbows and sunshine either. The toons had to even come up with excuses for toons that were missing or have become a twisted now, they try all sorts of excuses, they feel their chest hurting when they lie to you two like that though.

-If you two wanted to go down there, you would watch as the others just acted.. weirdly suspicious, telling you to play somewhere else because well.. they are just working on things! Mhm! Totally!! They know you will catch up eventually but until then? It worked for now, it kept you two away as you stayed in the lobby or even the hallways with everyone's rooms, just running around laughing. It.. helped with the whole mood of this place not feeling so hopeless. Some toons even had a rare smile on their faces as they watched you two play around, not even knowing the situation. It reminded them of the kids that used to visit here all over again.

-Since you two weren't really allowed to go on the other floors.. Toodles came up with a brilliant idea to have a sleepover! Even the other toons agreed so this was totally a good idea! You couldn't really access the floors that had fun stuff so why not bring your own toys and everything to one of your rooms! It was definitely better than being bored all day waiting for Rodger, after all! He sure kept having big adventures every day along with everyone else.. you and Toodles never could participate in them, though he did promise to bring back candy for you and Toodles, so that was good enough for the both of you!

-It starts around in the evening where the mood for playing comes back. You bring your own pillow, snacks you had hidden, your plushie and toys from your room happily as you make your way to Toodle's room! It usually starts with you two hugging before you come in and putting your things in the right spots, your pillow next to her own, even your plushie, your toys mixing which gets you two giggling and snacks on the table for you two to choose anything you want! What you do next is really up to what you two are feeling like doing. If you have energy, playing tag or with your toys together and making dramatic sounds sounds good! If not, something calmer like drawing or reading a fairytale together is nice too.

-It's those things mostly that happen at the sleepover. It's basically just you two trying to entertain yourselves while everyone else is doing their own thing and are very busy. Thankfully, your boredom helped you two come up with many creative ideas to pass the time, hell, sometimes you even just ran around (carefully too) in the long hallways and just laugh together, no one was there to tell you two to not be loud or anything, the place barely had any toons around but it wasn't like it bothered you two. You had this idea in your mind that they are having their own adventures, they didn't have to worry about you two being bored behind, this was fun!

-You two even make a pillow fort together with whatever you have! You even borrowed the pillows from the empty couches as you tried your best to build it! Toodles had done this with Rodger before so she had a decent idea of how it's build and how it works! You two do struggle and even though the end result is not the best, you didn't care! You just got in and kept giggling as you pretended to be in a huuuge castle. You even brought your toys and plushies and decorated around, making them the knights or guards and everything, you two went all out! One of you even pretended to be a dragon that attacked the pillow fort, it usually ended up in a big mess that had you two giggling from how dramatic and fun it was.

-Sometimes Pebble likes to scratch on the door and join you two as no one else is really in the mood to play with him so he also tends to stick around here and there! He even joins you two in various games like acting as the dragon in the pillow fort game, playing tag (he always gets you two very fast), even at hide and seek, Pebble is pretty good for the most part, unless when you notice his tail wagging unstoppably which always gets him spotted, he's just so excited to play with you two, he can't help it! Ending it by playing fetch with him? He's so happy! He tends to go back to his room or even sit on a pillow at the corner, keeping you two company at night.

-Funnily enough, even though Pebble has such huge energy to play around, he does sit still as you and Toodles try your makeup skills on him, at least Pebble is rewarded with a treat afterwards for sitting so calmly. Toodles has practiced on him before and even had put on a pink bow for him and Pebble doesn't know what to think, he is just happy to get the treat at the very end after the makeup is wiped off well from him. He really wants that treat, especially since the other toons refuse to give more to him!

-At night, where things are more quiet, you two pretend to sit around a candle, pretending it's a fireplace and try to tell scary stories. Of course, Toodles is very careful with it, especially after Rodger taught her to not accidentally cause flames with the candle. It usually ends with laughter and giggles as anything you two come up with is trying to sound scary but funny plot twists fly here and there that get you two smiling and giggling quietly. You even make random shadows with your hands at the walls and act like you are holding your toys up and pretend to attack each other's shadow, it's pretty wholesome!

-Eventually, it becomes this thing you two do almost every single night, the company is nice and Toodles doesn't feel so alone with you. You and her talk while staying under the warm covers together and just talking about anything that comes to your minds as you look at the ceiling. You two are holding your plushies as you talk until sleep catches up to you two. When Rodger comes up, covered in some ichor to check on Toodles and you, he smiles warmly before placing the bag of candy down on the table and gently tucking you two in before leaving quietly. He promises to stay safe in these floors just to see that wholesome image after all the bad things he has witnessed.

Thank you for reading! <3

[livingincolorsagain]

apparently the Still Not Funny deleted scene is about Bucky ‘bringing a treat to Sam's family gathering’, and after talking to @logicheartsoul about it, i obvs had to write something

It was a joke.

Sam’d—very casually, if he’d say so himself—invited Bucky to the cookout. He’d been trying to relax into Bucky’s lone armchair, the TV on and playing something he’d never seen before.

Bucky, who had been sitting on the ground and leaning into the side of the chair, had froze, very minutely, then relaxed, asked what he should bring.

Sam had, very dryly, said, “Ice cream cake,” because Bucky’d tried to make them breakfast that morning and almost burned the eggs to a crisp. Sam was just being cautious, and yeah, okay, maybe also a little shit, but mostly cautious.

Bucky, the biggest little shit to have ever existed, took it personally, apparently, because here he was now, sunglasses on, wearing Sam’s Henley, driving Sam’s truck and joking with Sam’s nephews, carrying a lopsided ice cream cake that was very bravely fighting for its life in the heat of the afternoon.

Sam’s stupid, stupid heart did a stupid, stupid somersault.

He went on taking pictures and joking around and filling up his plate, feeling light and happy and on the edge of something wonderful, then Bucky was close, sunglasses hanging from the collar of his—Sam’s—Henley, his cheeks a bright red from the setting sun.

“Hey,” he said, voice light and so soft.

“Hey yourself.”

“Want a piece of cake?”

Sam gave him a flat look. “You’re not funny.”

Bucky’s smile went bigger, brighter, like he immediately knew what Sam was talking about.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he said.

“You’re full of shit,” Sam said, “and, still not funny. You’re not funny.”

“I just couldn’t come empty-handed, Samuel, I have manners.”

“You brought an ice cream cake.”

“It was a no-brainer, honestly.”

Sam rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile, then he turned back to watch the gentle waves and the sky as it changed colors.

The music was dying down, the day slowing and easing into the evening. Bucky was still standing just a step behind him, and Sam could feel his eyes on him.

His heart skipped a little as Bucky knocked his knuckles against his shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, so soft once again.

And Sam turned, gave into the urge and wrapped his arm around his shoulder to pull him closer.

Bucky came easily, his warmth seeking into Sam’s alright sun-warmed body, until it was almost too much.

He didn’t pull away.

[oatmealmika]

What Are They Like On Social Media (Headcanons)?

feat. luffy, zoro, nami, sanji, usopp, robin, franky, and brook

requests open for other things like this!

Luffy

nami made him make an Instagram account and he did so... BUT NOT WITHOUT DOWNLOADING 8 VIRUSES THE MOMENT HE GOT ONTO IT

he started clinking on every ad he saw, of course, and now he's got to pay 100000 dollars by the end of the month or else world government will find him.

he took that as a challenge.

basic, but his username is kingofthepirates or strawhat69 or something

maybe even a pun or some shit bro

follows anybody he even slightly likes and comments dumb shit on all of their posts.

ex; luffy commenting on a post robin made w chopper "can you ask him if reindeers are real?"

takes weird angled photos of his friends and posts them (ex. forehead shots)

Zoro

username is bestswordsmanofficial

usually posts training videos, but also sometimes puts on his story a cry for help to his friends cuz he got lost again

also not the most tech savy guy

i get vibes he would straight up record himself coughing to death and post it

he went viral once, actually.

was dragged by nami to be a backup dancer for one of her tiktoks

stiffly dancing

on snapchat, he uses weird filters like the broccoli one and just sent it to everyone he knew.

Nami

username is nami.venmo.me

probably makes scams in order to get money

she has two accounts; a scamming account and a real account (both under similar usernames actually)

on snapchat, she and usopp have a 200+ snapscore

they both contemplated jumping ship when they messed it up..

matching pfps with usopp too! ex.;

nami is cookie monster, usopp is screaming man

Sanji

username is lovecook_sanji

other than posting the food he makes, he also posts aesthetic photos of him crying💀

ALSO posts photos of baths with rose petals that he only made cuz he wanted to be desperate in the caption like "such a beautiful place... i just wish that... someone could share it with me... :("

out here posting "i wish i was beautiful :(" posts for attention and zoro out here commenting back "i wish you were too💀"

blocked zoro after that

tags ONLY nami and robin in his posts whenever he posts the group

"the rest of them are just some guys 🙄"

Usopp

username is god..usopp

also is in charge of the strawhat official social media accounts

nami makes the aesthetically pleasing posts while usopp posts the funny hahas

like that time luffy slipped off ship with his mouth full of food (and bcuz he can't swim w his devil fruit) so he almost sank to the bottom

plugs his personal acc on the strawhat official acc too much

luffy used to be the manager of the account but that acc got banned...

so usopp was given the job to make a new one and manage it (no luffy you can't write the caption)

Robin

username is nico.robin

mostly posts about the books she's been reading, such as reviews

formats them nice and neatly

all her posts are very aesthetically pleasing

besides book reviews, she posts a lot of chopper

she's like a mom in that way making her kids pose for photos and takes photos as much as possible

overall very pretty account

Franky

username is franky_da_cyborg

when not posting inventions, he posts crewmates doing random things

doesn't have to be weird at all most of the posts are just straight up usopp making a sandwich or robin reading

all posts are very low quality tho lol

Brook

username is musician-brook

obv posts him playing music but also posts himself saying terrible dad jokes

"singing in the shower is fun until you get soap in your mouth. then it's a soap opera."

he got the phone confiscated for that one

apart of nami's backup dancers for her tiktoks

actually works it

go grandpa go!

all right reserved. do not repost or copy my work but relogging, comments or feedback is very much appreciated! Thank you.

[zmediaoutlet]

hello love <3 happy wincest wednesday!! do you have a favourite canon wincest dynamic shift? there are many times in the show where something happens that dramatically changes the relationship they have/how they look at it, and i'm wondering which one you find the most compelling. it doesn't have to literally be one moment-- eg. mine is the transition from s9 -> s10 where sam watches dean die and then dives HARD into curing the MOC after s9, where he's so deliciously withholding.

happy wincest wednesday!! we're back from the wincest wars! <333

goddamn, that's such a good answer I wish I could immediately steal it, haha -- especially with how mostly-unspoken it is. I'd also pull in there the thing that starts to happen in late s9, probably around the AAAA episode, where Sam starts to really notice what he said has done to Dean's mindset and is getting quietly worried, but can't actually -- say anything. Delish :pinchy fingers emoji:

There's a couple of faaantastic dynamic shifts -- after John dies and they have their rebel/loyalist flip; the thing that rots through s4 where pity and fear almost ruin everything; the thing in s3 where Sam really realizes what's about to slip through his fingers and starts to get wild. Season 6! Season 8! so much!!!

but for my heart-home I think I should pick s11, and very specifically this thing that happens in the kind of middle of that season where Dean seems to actually fully accept Sam's protectiveness, and it finally feels like the most equal version of the partnership. Sam did a horrific thing to save Dean's morality -- not even his life, which is kind of a cheap product, but to get back the Dean he recognized and loved -- and he says he'd do it again (with a little sop to 'and that has to change' -- lol, lmao. good luck with that, darling). Meanwhile Dean, who has indeed been a horrible shitbag for a while there, and still obv is in his Dean era of 'I'm the worst person who's ever lived' -- buuut Sam saved him, and brought him back from the brink, and proved maybe that there was something worth saving, as a result. Sam's got pretty good taste, after all. Dean's got another black mark on his soul with Amara's obsession looming over him, and Sam's got a fearful Lucifer-based worry crawling up his back, but -- something about the dynamic settles, and heals something that had been broken since that s9 moment you reference. Shit, it balances something that had been spinning a little wrong since s5, s2, since they were kids, probably. It becomes clear that this is a truly, thoroughly equal partnership, and that's something that... really hadn't been fully clear, all this time.

The specific moment I keep thinking of is the bit at the end of Love Hurts where Dean feels able to admit that his 'deepest desire' was Amara, and Sam accepts it completely without judgment, and then assures Dean that he'll do whatever he needs to do to help if Dean can't manage. Dean accepts it, even if he's embarrassed. That's just -- different. For so many years the Winchesters have been on this rocking see-saw, one of them in the dirt and one of them heroic and saving his brother. It used to be a joke. "Another season of Supernatural? Which one of them is gonna betray the other/die this year?" s11 represents a total break with that past into: they are a team. One of them can be weak and the other will understand and shore them up on the crippled side until they're whole again, and it's--fine. No shame and no worry that the partnership will be broken or weakened as a result. It's the fullest representation of the marriage that was gestured at in s8 -- tested, almost broken, repaired, now an alloy much stronger than steel.

There is a reason s11 is my favorite.

[tomato-greens]

I’m really grading. I’m really doing it. this isn’t as bad as working during the height of the pandemic when the psychological, like, part of consciousness I relied on to do work disappeared and I had to literally relearn to work but it’s almost as bad, dudes, it’s been really really hard. but I’m doing it!

totally unrelated sorta vagueblog

I have followed someone for like, I don’t know, almost a decade who left her job training seeing eye dogs to become a nurse and it has been totally bizarre watching the transformation - but especially now that she’s about to take her final licensing exam. initially she wanted to become a psych nurse because she has been hospitalized/institutionalized for mental illness and wanted to change the culture of treatment. her time in school has seemed weird but I don’t follow her that closely so I figured she’d go to work and figure out her priorities again. but now that has completely disappeared from her professional goals, she will be working in a completely different department after licensure, she has distanced herself from her own experience of mental illness and taken on standard/troubling medical vocabulary about the mentally ill patients she works with as an aide, she has always been p defensive and like fair enough, but recently changed her URL to reflect a meme about nurses being mean, which is really shitty if you’re like…actually a nurse……….

I say this because I’m in education - comparable gendered helping profession, another extremely hierarchical & unevenly competitive field (paid worse though) where we are invited to not only notice and address but pathologize (though obv different context) our students for behaving in certain ways. it is extremely easy for teachers to abuse their power unknowingly, take out their insecurities on people they are supposed to be helping/in service to, etc. (I consider it an extremely important part of my job to professionally develop my teaching both formally and informally, mostly informally/through self-study, but NOT to adopt the shittier parts of education training, though I bypassed ever going to teacher school which probably helped in some ways & hurt in others.) good teachers learn to manage their own defensiveness because they ultimately have the power to do immense harm & they need to be able to listen to the people they are responsible for & assess their own behavior with care. the URL is just a joke but like is it…? if i called myself MeanAssholeTeacher & someone who is a student - not even of mine, but like, generally - found it, wouldn’t that potentially fuck them up in a way just calling myself MeanAsshole and blogging about being a teacher wouldn’t?

I think this feels vaguely like drdemonprince to me - like not nearly nearly nearly as egregious, but if you’re in a profession where you could potentially intimately harm someone, I guess I’m kind of a prude about how careful I think you should be about making that profession part of your immediately obvious, online, non-professional identity, rather than in a context where someone has to read your posts and engage with you and your personality and your more in-depth personhood.

like obviously I AM kind of a mean asshole myself sometimes, I can be defensive, I act out my asocial behaviors online so they don’t interrupt my offline life, & thus I am also visibly mentally ill on this blog, but I don’t think it’s unethical of me to mention being a teacher in the same breath. I don’t know. I also don’t do any of this attached to my IRL name in any obvious way for a reason. thinking through it.

…I’ve just found this transformation very alarming I guess. making me feel sad about who has power & what professional training does to people w/ good intentions. how limited ethics are!

[jackassbrainrot]

could you pretty pretty pls write about ehren? I like the idea of him comforting someone because he knows what it’s like to be not taken seriously or be made the butt of the joke a lot… obvs it’s up to you but thanks for your time!!

uncool as me [danger ehren x gn!reader]

desc: ehren comforts you after a hard day on set

a/n: EHREN MY BABYYYY <33 first time writing him so idk how good it is but I should absolutely write more of him! thank u for the req and hope you enjoy it <3

warnings: hurt comfort, kinda angsty at the beginning but mostly fluffy

word count: 534

You sat behind a trailer, your forehead resting on your knees which were pressed to your chest, hands wrapped around your legs. You just needed a moment to yourself. It has been a long day.

It's not that picking on each other was a rare occurrence on set, for god's sake, it's Jackass. But you felt like every joke today was on you. You couldn't think of one moment when Bam wasn't trying to fuck with you, messing up your stunts, or when Johnny wasn't throwing jabs your way, his sickly sweet southern accent failing to mask the malice in his voice for once.

Hearing footsteps approaching, you try to compose yourself as much as you can. "You're in my spot." Ehren's soft voice surprises you, since you were prepared to be laughed at again. "Sorry." You mumble out, going to stand up before you feel his gentle hand on your shoulder as he sits down next to you. "No need to, I was kind of expecting to find you here." You cock your head to the side slightly, a confused look on your face.

"This is usually where I go when I get it that bad too." He says sympathetically, offering you a knowing smile. "Yeah, I guess it's worse for you, isn't it?" You breathe out, mirroring his smile. "You get used to it." He shrugs his shoulders. "It's not like they really mean it anyway, they're just natural assholes."

Laughing at his comment, you think to yourself that's why it's called jackass. "They don't get it as bad, though." You say somewhat sadly. "Because Bam will cry if you say anything to him, and Knoxville will get Tremaine on your ass, the bastard." That last comment is said so sincerely, you were sure it has happened to him before. "And Preston gets it real bad too! And O had a fish hook in his mouth! And-" You listened to him ramble about every shitty stunt the guys had to do, retelling every moment someone got messed with on set.

As you listen to his stories, you feel your mood getting better, his sincere attempt at cheering you up succeeding. "-and in any case, you'll never get it as bad as me!" He beams as if it's a good thing, his goofy smile making you smile too. "You're such a dork, Danger." You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder, sides pressed together. You feel his skin heating up, a blush spreading over it at the contact. He sheepishly wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"We're both equally uncool and I think that's cool!" He exclaims excitedly, making you melt and cuddle closer to him. "I think you're cool too, Ehren." You say into his shoulder, wrapping your hands around his waist, hugging him tighly. He hugs you back, arms wrapped around your shoulders, a goofy smile on his face that you couldn't see.

"Where the fuck are those two losers!?" You hear a yell from behind the trailer, causing you both to laugh before getting up and running back to work. Suddenly, everyone's annoying comments were affecting you less, stealing glances at Ehren for the rest of the day.

[tomssexdoll]

a nsfw aplahbet with bill kaulitz please 🫶🏻🫶🏻

HEYYYY OK IM EXCITED

NSFW ALPHABET BILL KAULITZ structure creds: @angelll135444

A=after care: Bill is amazing with aftercare, he is so loving and gentle with you, makes sure you feel ok, makes sure you're cleaned up, tucks you in to bed after teehee, makes you something to eat or drink if you want it

B=Body Part: his favourite body part on you is DEF your tits, he loves playing with them, sucking on them, literally doing anything with them, especially squeezing them while you ride him hrbwehjnfwe

C=Cum: I feel like Bill is def a fan of cum, his or yours, he loves cumming in you and on you. He also LOVES when you cum in his mouth when he eats you out

D=dirty secret of his: he secretly likes being a sub and likes slight pain

E= Experience (how well experienced they are) I'm very 50/50 on this, one half of me says he's shy and doesn't have much experience but the other half tells me he knows how to please a woman so well

F= Favourite position: def doggy and cowgirl, he loves squeezing your tits in cowgirl obvs and LOVES to grab onto your ass in doggy

G= Goofy (Are they serious during sex?) mostly, i feel like he will joke now and again maybe at the start and the end but when its getting STEAMY he is very serious

H= Hair (Do they trim?) YES. OMG. Bill hates being hairy down there, he will always make sure he is clean shaven, as for you he doesn't care as long as it's not a lot of hair cause he loves eating you out

I= Intimacy (Are they intimate during sex?): HELL YESSSS! Even when he's balls deep in you he will kiss and praise you (thats if you haven't pissed him off)

J= Jerking off: he def does, I feel like he'd do mutual masturbation with you but when you're away he def does it over the phone or will BEAT HIS MEAT to photos or videos of you, he has some cheeky photos saved of you teehee

K= Kinks (one kink or more) he def has a degrading kink, whether its you doing it or him, also a praising one too, he likes pain too

L= Location (Favourite places to have sex.) def the shower or bedroom

M=Motivation (turns them on what gets them really going etc.) usually seeing you naked or you teasing him will make him feral

N= No (something they definitely wouldn’t agree too) he wouldn't agree on hitting her (except her ass) at all, even if she asked

O= Oral (receiving giving) he loves when you suck his dick but HE WILL DEVOUR YOU AT ANY CHANCE HE GETSSS, he is literally soultied to ur pussy, he loves it so much

P= Pace (Slow and sensual or rough?) it depends on the day, time, what has happened, his mood, etc. usually he will be slow and sensual but sometimes he can get roughh

Q= Quickie: in my opinion he's not as sex mad as tom, I feel like he can go without a quickie for a while but he LOVES them when he agrees to them

R= Risk taking: Bill is very conservative about public sex I feel like but maybe once he'll take the risk if he needs it

S= Stamina (How long can they last?) usually 3 or 4 rounds, after that he is EXHAUSTED.

T=Toys (would they own any?) yes def, he loves using vibrators on you

U=Unfair (teasing) You mainly tease Bill and it makes him sooo mad, he loves it but he isn't that much of a teaser

V=Volume (how loud they are) he's quieter then you but he will def make noises, I feel like it's not yelling but it isn't like normal pitch ifyk

W=Woman (what type of woman he would date) mmm, idk i feel like he isn't super picky with his women, maybe he'd prefer his women with a more alternative look?

X=Xray (what’s packing down there) IT'S LIKE 9 INCHES DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED, HE IS PACKING BUS, HE IS PACKING BUILDING.

Z=Zzz (how fast they would fall asleep) he would make sure you are comfortable and then fall asleep

TYSM FOR THE REQ THIS WAS SO FUN TO DO