#.you either die of pure fear or

[multific]

Moonlight 

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Wife!Reader

Warnings: childbirth (no detailed description)

Summary: Aemond loves his little wife, so naturally, when you give birth to your first son, Aemond falls in love even deeper. However, when a simple refusal of his breaks your heart, it will be difficult for him to win you back.

It was hard to keep you close. You were much like Aemond, a true fighter. You had a fire in you which couldn't be questioned. A fire towards him, pure love. And now, fire towards your son.

Aeren was only born a week ago, yet you protected him fiercely like a dragon.

And you refused to let the small child out of your hands.

When Aemond was allowed in the room, he saw the blood, he heard your screams and many times, he wanted to barge in but he knew he couldn't.

So, once he was allowed in, someone informed him that it was a boy and that you were in bad shape. 

Aemond could see it, you looked beyond tired, yet you smiled.

But your smile didn't last long.

Aemond refused to hold his son. 

"Give him to me." he heard your voice as he looked from the woman holding his son to you. You looked angry. Way too angry.

It was too late when Aemond realised what he had just done.

He refused to hold his own child.

And since then, you didn't speak a word to him.

You slept in a different room with your baby, sometimes, late at night, he heard the cries. He wanted to get up and go to you but he couldn't, his guilt was overbearing. 

"You should put a leash on her, brother. If I had a wife like that, she wouldn't be sleeping in another room." Aegon taunted his brother daily. 

One day, you were in the gardens, walking with your son in your arms when Aegon spoke up.

Aemond never heard his brother speak with such longing.

"I truly wish she was mine." 

Aemond looked at his brother who was watching you.

"But she's mine." was his simple and firm reply.

But you truly weren't.

You used to be, now, you just sat next to him during dinners. 

One night, you excused yourself, and he followed you.

In an empty corridor, he spoke up.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he knew why. He very well knew why.

"I'm sorry, My Prince." you turned and looked at him. "I believe you are mistaken. I'm not avoiding you, I just hate to see the disappointment on your face." this surprised Aemond. "I gave birth to a child you refused to even look at. I loved you, Prince Aemond, I truly did. But I love my child more. And if you cannot look at him, you won't get to look at me. Fill your bed with whores for all I care. Goodnight." 

"You are mistaken." he said, not letting you leave, but you did grab the handle. "You-You were in that bed, crying, screaming and bleeding for hours. I couldn't do anything. And when they let me in, the blood... so much... they told me you were weak, you survived but you needed a lot of rest. How-How could I hold my child when the love of my life almost died? How could I look at him when I was worried to even look at you? I feared you would die giving birth. I was shaking. I feared losing you and my child. That is why I didn't hold him. I was scared." you stood there, your hand on the door, you looked away from his eyes.

"Then you could have just fucking say so, Aemond! For fucks sake!"

"That is not very lady-like."

"FUCK lady-like, you made me believe you hate me and our son! I believed I disappointed you since you wanted a daughter."

"I said I would be happy either way. My emphasis was on a girl because I feared if you had a daughter, you would see that as disappointing my bloodline."

"You are fucking terrible at communicating." you opened the door and walked into the huge room in which you stayed the last couple of weeks.

Aemond followed you, and watched as you walked over to the small bed and picked up your son. "Next time, you should just tell me. Letting me assume things clearly don't work out." 

"Of course." a small smile found its way onto his lips, next time, it was the promise of a future, a promise of more, something he could work towards. He walked over to you after closing the door. "I wish to hold him." you handed him the small child who didn't even stir in his sleep. "Aeren you named him I recall." Aemond's attention was now fully on his son as you decided to leave the two alone after watching them for a couple of minutes.

You got changed and when you arrived back, Aemond was sitting on the bed, his son on his chest.

"Some nights I heard his cries. It broke my heart but I broke yours far more. I apologise for not being clear and for causing you pain. I am truly sorry."

"I'm sorry as well. I should have asked." you said as you sat down next to him. "I will have to feed him soon."

"I will stay here with you."

You smiled as the moon shined through the window, illuminating the room a little more, helping the fire so you could see your husband's face.

"I love you so much Aemond."

"I love you too, My Queen." you giggled, moving closer to him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You two kissed in the moonlight until your son made it clear that he was hungry.

It all made you look towards a better future.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[buckttommy]

I need buck to be in danger and tommy running into the danger to get buck out safely. I need tommy to hold bucks face in his hands and tell him that he needs to look at him and tell him what hurts. I need tommy to be a worried boyfriend

whoops

"I'm okay."

Evan doesn't actually know if he's okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He's not entirely convinced he doesn't have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that's not currently attached to the hand that's gripping Tommy's wrist like he's scared he'll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he's got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that'll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he's not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he's not dying.

That's all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he's losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he's not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it's a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn't know which one of them it's hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. "When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt..."

"I know." Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. I didn't mean to do that to you."

He doesn't mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can't take it or doesn't want to hear it, but because he doesn't know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he's honest, he's still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he's not complaining. He knows what it's like to be the one waiting for information, to think you're about to live the worst day of your life.

He's glad he didn't do that to Tommy.

This time.

Tommy's eyes rove over his face, his body, like he's trying to catalogue for himself all the places in which Evan is broken. He loses the fight against his hand and gently grabs Evan's jaw, tilting his face toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. He clucks his tongue and drags his thumb along the edge of a gash scored across his cheekbone.

"You're going to need stitches on that."

"I know, I know. Just—" Evan sways on his feet. He's tired, suddenly, the adrenaline passing and fear taking roots in it's place. "I thought I was going to die today."

Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. "Evan."

"No. I know. It's just that—if I hadn't somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that's the job. You know? It's—it's what we both signed up for." He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend's orbit. "But I'm just really—I'm really glad I get to come home to you again."

Tommy's face softens. "Oh, sweetheart."

Evan's boyfriend is massive. It's one of the things he loves most about him. Tommy can (and has) manhandled him with ease countless times before. But the way he touches him now, careful of all his broken parts, is so gentle that Evan almost feels like crying. He melts into the warmth of his embrace as he feels Tommy's nose press into the soft hairs at his temple, followed by a quick brush of his lips.

"I'm glad you get to come home at all. I—god. You have no idea, Evan. You just don't know." He huffs a laugh that's not really a laugh at all and holds him slightly tighter. "I know it's the job, like you said, and I never really minded when it was me running into burning buildings. But now it's you, and—" he pauses. Swallows. "Well. It's not really as fun from this side of things."

"Says the guy who flies helicopters into hurricanes for a living."

Tommy's laugh is actually more of a laugh that time. Something eases in Evan's chest. He tips his chin to look at him.

They're standing far too closely, far too intimately to be considered casual. He's not out to anyone at the station except his family, and he can feel curious eyes roving over them every now and again.

But Tommy is shaking.

It's a small tremble wracking his body, clearly suppressed (or at least trying to be), but it's there and it's breaking Evan's heart to pieces.

Maybe it's that that gives him the courage. Or maybe it's the fact that he almost died. Or maybe it's the fact that Tommy smells like his laundry detergent and, this close Evan can see the edge of the hickey he left beneath his collarbone, or maybe (most likely) it's all of those things. But before he can think about it, before he can stop himself, Evan is murmuring,

"Can I kiss you?"

Tommy's eyebrows raise to his hairline. His gaze darts around, but they're tucked away from the largest portion of the crowd of first responders that arrived at the structure fire. The only person that's even sort of nearby is Hen, and she's so obviously giving them privacy that Evan wants to hug her a little bit.

Later.

Right now, he just wants to kiss.

Tommy frowns. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes. You can. I always want to kiss you but you're not out."

This is true. Evan considers this for a moment and decides that, right now, he doesn't care. Everyone he cares about already knows he's bisexual and they love him regardless, have loved him all this time.

He doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

"We don't have to," he says after a moment. "But I'm tired. And everything hurts. And when I was under there, all I could think about was—was you and getting back to you and kissing you, and so I—"

He's cut off by the feel of Tommy's mouth on his, tension gliding from his shoulders as their lips slot together.

Finally.

This is what he's been needing ever since he emerged from the rubble. Ever since Hen dragged him to the ambulance and sat him down to tend to his wounds. Ever since Chimney told him he called Tommy to let him know what happened.

This is what he's been missing.

Tommy's heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest.

It's an odd thing to be able to feel someone's heartbeat, to be pressed so close together that you can literally feel the thing that's keeping them alive. Evan has never felt anything more sacred, he thinks, and the fact that this heart—this beautiful fucking heart—beats a litany of fear for him through Tommy's veins is overwhelming.

Humbling.

He adores this man.

He lets go of Tommy's wrist and slides his hand up until it rests over Tommy's heart, and then he waits and waits and waits until the beat starts to slow down. Until Tommy exhales a sigh against the side of his face.

There it is, that's what he was waiting for.

Tommy pulls back first, far enough to press their foreheads together.

"You need to go to a hospital," he murmurs.

"Later."

"No, now." His laughter is soft. "Hen is glaring daggers at me. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain she's about to pry you out of my arms and strap you to the gurney herself."

Evan snorts. Yeah, that sounds like Hen.

He takes a step back out of the warm circle of Tommy's arms. A bout of vertigo nearly knocks him off his feet, but then Tommy is there once again, holding him up.

Evan's own heart beats just a little bit faster.

Together, they walk over to the back of the ambulance, Tommy helping him get settled on the gurney once they get there.

Evan meets his eyes. "Come visit me in the hospital?"

"Visit you? I'll be right behind."

Tommy presses a kiss to the back of his hand, and this time when the vertigo hits again, he's not entirely sure it's just because of his injuries.

He's never felt so adored, so treasured before. It's intoxicating.

Tommy looks over his shoulder, his face earnest. "I know I don't have to ask, but please take care of him."

Hen's voice is immensely fond. "Relax, Kinard. He's in good hands."

Tommy nods. He meets his gaze again and then holds it until the ambulance doors close. It's only when Evan leans back that he remembers, oh, right. Everything does kind of hurt after all.

Definitely not okay, then.

"Ow."

"Yeah, I know." Hen's voice is still soft. She fusses about the back of the ambulance, plying him with bandages and medicine and whatever the hell else she's doing. He's not entirely sure. Reality is starting to slip away. Her face appears in his field of vision. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Close your eyes."

"Tommy?"

"Buck, I'm pretty sure not even a natural disaster could keep that man from being at your side." Her tone is teasing, but she's sincere. Something warm settles in his chest even as his eyelids drift closed. "Rest. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can see him."

Evan's not sure about that logic but he's too weary to question it. He closes his eyes anyway, lets the rock of the ambulance lull him into a relative sense of peace, and he falls asleep imagining the warmth of Tommy's body beside him.

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 1

Summary: when you need something to help you stay alert study, you found a whole lot more than you were looking for. Tatted and massive. He was what your dreams were made of, but is he a nightmare? He claimed you, and now he intends on keeping you. No matter what the cost.

Pairings: Tattooed!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, selling drugs, taking drugs (adderall/marijuana), non con/dub con thigh riding, thigh riding with an audience, taunting, threating, a bit of degradation, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.3K

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit by the amazing @randomagnes0210

Putting your car into park, you take a deep breath as you stare at the club in front of you. If you weren’t desperate, you wouldn’t be here. You had run through all the possibilities in your head, and this seemed like the best solution. Your grades started to slip after the breakup, and it was like you couldn’t concentrate. You couldn’t stay awake, and you weren’t able to study.

But this was beyond desperation. This was complete lunacy to be driving up to the belly of the beast. The rumblings of this club were more than just gossip. People who started doing more than taking the pills came here. The allure of big money and protection with Steve Rogers was hard to resist.

You didn’t want to sell, but you also didn’t want to buy from anybody on campus. You just need a few pills to get through finals. That was all. Enough to keep you awake to study, and then you were out. It made sense to go straight to the source for that. You didn’t care what it took. You just need to stay alert.

Exhaling deeply, you get out of your car. The bass of the music rumbles deep in your body the closer you get, mimicking the pounding in your chest. You can hardly breathe, and you know that your pulse is visible. You didn’t do things like this. You can’t afford jail time or even a mark on your record. You’d lose all scholarships, and have to drop out, and this would all have been in vain.

Stepping up to the door, a brutish man towers over you. His shoulders are wide and broad, and his arms as thick as your legs. Casting your eyes down to the ground, you get a glint of metal as his fingers. The man tilts chin up, and you tremble. Your whole body shivers with fear.

“Why are you here? You look like a scared little lamb coming to slaughter. It’s just a night club, darling,” his silver blue eyes look behind you, casting their gaze all through the parking lot. Seemingly looking for someone with you before looking back at you.

“Are you alone?”

“Y-y-yes,” you hiccup, trying to tilt your head back down, but even his finger was enough to keep you in your place.

“Why are you here?”

“I-I-I…”

“You’re not cut out to be a pusher. Your fear shows you know exactly what goes on upstairs. You offering up your flesh? I’m sure there are several that would love to feast on you.”

“Oh, god, you eat people? I’m sorry,” tears blur your eyes, but the man lets out a harrowing laugh at your expense. Grabbing onto your wrist as he pulls you in the club. This was it, you are going to die, and all because you thought you needed Adderall to stay awake.

“Oh, you’ll be eaten. There’s nothing more delicious than the honey between a woman’s legs. Your body will be trembling for a very different reason besides fear. It’ll be pure unadulterated pleasure. Pleasure so grand you won’t even know where you are. That is, if you get the right client.”

“I don’t want to be a whore. I want to go home,” he pulls you into an elevator, waiting on the doors to close before his sneering face is rounding back on you. Inching ever closer before both his hands go on either side of you. “I’m sorry. I…I don’t know what I was doing. I’m sorry.”

“You’re right. You are just a scared little girl. Steve will have fun with you. Tell me, little lamb, why are you here? You wouldn’t be good at selling, and judging by the sweat beading around your hairline, and you recoiling into your skin, I bet that cherry is still fresh and ripe in between your thighs, so selling your skin doesn’t seem like you. Someone offer you up as a sacrifice, giving you all sweet and innocent up to some man that is going to destroy you? You wired, sweetheart?”

“No,” you sob. Shaking your head. “No, I’m by myself. Honestly.”

“Tell it to Steve,” he growls as the doors open up, and he pushes you forward. “Go on,” it is hard to move with the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your body pulses with fear. Convulsing uncontrollably, and when you see the cherry of a blunt light up in a corner, a dark figure clouded by even more darkness, and you yelp.

Attempting to turn around, and get past this behemoth of a man, but it was pointless. You are trapped. Just like a mouse in a maze waiting on her predator to pounce. A hand drops down on the arm of the chair, and almost every inch of it is covered in black ink. Rings adorn all his fingers. Rolling them along the fluffy arm, but never bringing his face into the light.

Inhaling a long drag of his joint you can almost make out some features on his face, and it only gives you more to be afraid of. He was just as big as the man that was refusing to let you go. “What have we here, Bucky? Did you bring me a little angel to sit on my lap? What’s your name, darling?”

He clears his throat when you don’t answer. Chuckling when you’re able to squeak out your name, “You’re just as sweet as an innocent Dove. I think that’s what I’m going to call you. Now, why don’t you come and sit on my lap, and let me get a better look at you?”

“No,” the answer comes out quickly, and much more surely than you were expecting.

He slowly stands up from his chair, twisting his neck to the side and a sickening pop rolls through every bone in his spine, and he takes one solid step forward, and his body is out of the shadows. Another step, and you see just how dangerously handsome he is. Tattoos erupt over every inch of his skin, except his face. A boyish quality to him with the smile of the devil, himself.

You have nowhere to go, because the brick wall behind you is nudging you closer to Steve, and the gap gets smaller. Steve’s thick hand raises the roach to his mouth, and inhales long. Flicking the stick to the side, he completely closes the gap. His hard muscles, coupled with the ones behind you stifle your breathing, and all you can do is stare up at him.

He blows out a puff of smoke, before his thick fingers close around your neck. Not tight enough to hurt you, but it would take only a second for him to start crushing your windpipe. “What did you say to me? Did you just tell me, Steve Rogers, no? Dovey, I could have you bent over this couch, and let every man that works for me stuff you full of cock, and there’s nothing you could fucking do about it. I was being nice when I asked you to sit on my lap. I just wanted to look at you. And now that I’m closer to you, I’m demanding you sit in my lap. The pleasantries are gone, sweetheart. So if you don’t want everyone to watch you take my fat cock, I would suggest you listen.”

Without warning, he walks back to his chair in the dark, and that ringed finger rubs over his thigh, “He won’t ask twice,” Bucky whispers into your ear, and you shuffle your feet over to Steve.

“You won’t hurt me?” His eyes roll up to meet yours, and he shakes his head no. Waiting for you to gently sit down, and a possessive hand, lays too high up on your thigh. Rubbing on it, and his fingers dip too low between your thighs. “I don’t like this.”

“I would have been much kinder had you just sat down, and not defied me. You wired?” You shake your head no, and his fingers move all the way up your legs. Roaming around at the apex of your thighs before cupping your covered core. Drifting up higher, and he cups each breast, and runs up the swells of them. Another hand sweeps down your back, until he grunts in satisfaction.

“You understand why I have to check? A pretty and sweet girl in a place like this. It’s like they know my weakness. There is something about fresh meat. Has anyone ever touched you, sweetheart?” You stare dead faced at him. You weren’t answering. You didn’t have to defy him, but that's none of his business.

“They haven’t. Your pussy was throbbing so hard, and that sweet little sigh you let out. I can make you feel good if you let me touch you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. I just want to go home.”

He clicks his tongue as his eyes roam over your body. Getting too close as he sniffs up your neck, “You even smell sweet. You wanna know a secret?” Don’t answer. Just stare. “I can feel how hot that cunt is. Feel how she’s pulsing so hard at being filled. You hide nothing, Dovey.”

“Why can’t I go home?”

Steve settles back in his chair, glancing towards Bucky who also sits on a couch, and kicks up his feet. Rubbing his hand slowly up and down your back, but keeping a firm hand on your thigh. Keeping you spread out a bit more than you would want. “Why did you come here in the first place? You sought me out. I had to question things. Everyone knows I love pretty little things with tight pussy.”

“Stop, please,” your voice deadpans. There’s no emotion in you even though you want to scream and flail around. But it wouldn’t help. You chose to walk in here on your own accord, so now it was time to just listen.

“Why? You don’t feel that heat radiating out from between your legs? I have asked you why you are here, and you can’t provide an answer. So until you tell me, you’re going to sit like this. Have your panties become soiled with that sweet nectar. Uncomfortable, and desperate for friction. I just know you’re going to go home, and touch yourself thinking about me.”

“I won’t,” his eyebrow cocks up, and he waits. It would just be easier if you told him the truth. “My grades are slipping.”

“Oh, she’s sweet and educated. Let me guess…early childhood education? It will come in handy for when you take care of our kids,” Bucky snorts, leaning his head back on the couch, but you look at him horrified. “Oh good grief. What are you studying?”

“Early childhood,” a deep chuckle erupts out his mouth, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Distracting you while his hand moves further up your thigh. “I…I need to cram in some studying.”

“I can definitely help you with some cramming. So you thought you would come to the supplier for some Adderall? Is that it? Why not ask one of the many people on campus? I’m sure they’re good and stocked up. We know it’s finals season.”

“I don’t trust people,” Steve moans, and his hand starts to rub in and out of the gap between your legs, only inches away from your core. “All it would take is for them to get caught, and then they’re ratting everyone out that they sold to. Even you.”

“Oh, trust me, if they sing like a canary and mention my name, it’ll be the last thing they fucking do. So let me get this straight, you, this sweet little Dove, come to the seedy part of town, thinking you’re going to march in here and ask for a few pills from me to get you through finals?”

“I have money,” you close your eyes as his fingers lightly graze over your panties. A skirt was a terrible idea, but you can deal with being angry at yourself later. Right now you just need to remain calm, and get out alive.

“I don’t want money.”

“I don’t want sex.”

“Oh, sweetheart, there’s definitely ways I could want you without having my cock going into your pussy. Fine. I’ll give you your fucking pills. If you don’t pass, you get to suck my giant cock. If you’re lucky I might let you ride my face before I split your pussy open for the first time,” don’t answer. Don’t even look.

“Why so wet Dovey?” Don’t answer. Don’t look. Definitely don’t moan. “Wet and so hot. I bet it feels like heaven in between your thighs. A pussy like this is something I would need all the time. Make you sit in my lap, with my cock buried so deep in your warmth, all while I hand out everyone’s product. Every seller would know you were taking my cock like a big girl, but they would see how much I stretch you out. Is that what you want? To be my pretty little cock ornament for all my sellers?”

Don’t answer. Don’t look. And stop whimpering. “You better answer me, you little bitch,” you gulp as he twists you around, making you stare at Bucky as you straddle his leg. Holding onto your hips as he forces you to grind on him. “How much do you have?”

“Carol told me they were fifteen dollars a pill.”

“I could give them to you for free. Just come on my leg, and tell Bucky what a pitiful little birdie you are.”

“I can pay like a normal customer,” you moan. This is humiliating. Bucky sits in front of the two of you, munching on some form of nut or cracker with the biggest eat shit grin. “Steve, I’d rather just pay.”

“Your money's no good with me. Who sent you? Carol? She’s the one that told you to come straight to me? Whoever told you to come here, sent you right into a mousetrap, sweetheart,” his own moan echoes yours as you clench your eyes close. You can’t look at Bucky or him. Your body is betraying you. Feeling things deep inside of you that you have never felt before.

Even the thought of Bucky watching this all unfold is making you weak. You hate it, but the pleasure is proving you didn’t hate it enough. “I have a type, Dovey. Sweet little ladies like you. One that wants to deny themselves all this pleasure is even better. I promise there are things that feel better than this.”

You didn’t want anything that felt better. It was like Satan had his finger curled, wiggling it towards you, and beckoning you deeper into depravity. First the pills, now riding someone’s thigh while another man watched. What was next? Did you even want to know? Or did you not want to let go?

Your hands slap down on either armrest, and you can not control the sounds that seep out of you. His tattooed fingers dig even deeper into your hips. He was going to leave marks on you, but it didn’t matter. What mattered now was the high that was all through your limbs. This shouldn’t feel good, and you are irritated by the fact that it was Bucky watching that made this more enjoyable.

“What is it that you want more than anything, Dovey?” Don’t answer. Keep your eyes closed. “The way this cunt is making a mess of me, I think you want to come, huh? Does this pretty little bird want to come? I’ll keep going until you pass out, so you better learn to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, little darling? Yes isn’t a damn answer,” he grinds you down even harder on his thigh, and you have to brace yourself. Holding onto his knee as your head tilts back to the ceiling. The most strangled of cries as you come undone, but Steve doesn’t slow. Doesn’t stop, but goes faster. Harder. Leaving you screaming. Writhing around.

Your fingernails dig into his knee, but still he goes harder. He is trying to kill you. “What does my little bird want more than anything, hmm? Yes, isn’t an answer. And I won’t stop until you tell me.”

“I want…” your eyes roll into the back of your head as another orgasm builds up in your belly. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what is even happening. “I want to come!”

“Done,” Steve growls, giving your neck a little nibble, and you lose all self control. Your body trembles as you come undone. Whimpering even more when you hear drips onto the floor, as you squirt onto his thigh, and he gives your sensitive skin a hard suck.

“I figured you’d want your little pills to keep you awake for studying. Maybe even to pass your finals. But making you come is so much easier, and cheaper for me. Now how many pills do you need?”

“What” you pant out, turning to look back at him.

“You need pills. I’ll give them to you.”

“How much?” You ask, shifting on his thigh. No matter which way you turn, you’re uncomfortably wet. Slick coats the inside of your thigh, and Steve’s leg just further wipes it on you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Really, oh my god, thank you!” He releases your hold, and you stand up, ready to hug him, but take a step backwards instead. Staring down at his drenched leg in horror. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Bucky, get her five pills?” You give him a sweet little smile, nodding your head. “No more than one a day. If you need more, just come to the club, and Bucky will bring you straight to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

You can’t believe he’s being so nice to you, but you’re thankful. Delighted even as Bucky hands you a bottle, “It has my name on it.”

“I don’t need you getting in trouble, Dovey. I need you to pass your finals. Come on, let me walk you out to your car. It gets dangerous at night. You don’t need to be alone,” you forget about the mess left behind on Steve’s pants. Don’t even pay attention to how his eyes darken as he leads you through the club.

Don’t notice the stares that are pointed right at you, and all because you have a nasty little hickey on your neck, and Steve’s possessive hand on the small of your back. No one approaches the two of you. No one points. You’re able to get out of the club without some man hitting on you.

Steve opens the door for you, letting you get seated before buckling you in. “I don’t want you to be out by yourself.”

“Yeah, okay,” that is a weird request, but you weren’t going to be seeing Steve anymore for it to matter.

“Good luck on your finals, Dovey,” he licks his lips as he looks over the expanse of your body. You’re just thankful that it is over. It wasn’t that terrible. And you saved some money.

Bucky comes to stand beside Steve as he memorizes your license plate. A sinister grin on his face, “Don’t lose sight of her. You know what to do,” he tells his friend before walking back into the club. Bucky goes over to his bike, already sensing some late nights for himself.

Steve had a mission. To keep you safe. Because you are his. And your scent engulfed him fully. He was going to break you down. And he was going to have every part of you. You just didn’t realize it. But everyone else did. He saw the club goers look at you and their sight was quickly averted. He’d wear your juices for the world to see. And soon, you’d wear his mark as well.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmaii @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess

[velvet4510]

Y’all, I love Samwise Gamgee. He is loyalty incarnate, stout-heartedness incarnate, purity incarnate, love incarnate. I would die for Sam. I would do anything for Sam. Just as any of you would. Please bear this in mind before you read on.

Y’all need to stop claiming that Sam is “immune to the Ring.” He’s not. Besides Tom Bombadil (who is an entirely different kind of being), NOBODY is immune to the Ring. Not even the purest of heart are immune.

Gollum and Boromir are the most obvious examples of this, but it applies to everyone.

Gandalf isn’t immune to it. That’s why he refuses to take it from Frodo; he knows what it would do to him.

Galadriel isn’t immune to it. She gives the same reason.

Faramir isn’t immune to it. He gives the same reason.

Yes, some people are able to resist it better than others can.

Look at Bilbo managing to give it up.

Look at Frodo, one of the most pure-hearted characters in the book, winning the battle against it until the LAST possible moment, holding out ALL the way to Mordor until he reaches the one place where he has no chance, where the Ring’s victory over his exhausted mortal will is inevitable.

But they’re not immune.

And Tolkien makes it quite clear that Sam isn’t immune either.

He devotes whole passages to Sam’s temptation by the Ring, his visions of power and glory, of turning Mordor into a garden. But it’s not just that.

Between Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam, it’s quite clear that the Ring’s first course of action in preying on its bearer is making them want to put it on. Reaching into their mind so that their first direct course of action to handle a situation is to put it on. This is what Sam does not once, but twice. The second time is after the Orcs have already gone, and nobody can see him anyway. He has no need to put the Ring back on, but he does.

Then, multiple times, he offers to carry it for Frodo. Yes, this is born from concern for Frodo’s burden, but this is exactly what the Ring is using. The Ring is whispering to him, “save him from the burden, save him from the burden, take me for yourself, take me for yourself.” And Sam falls for it. The Ring uses the bearer’s greatest fears and desires to carve a path in their mind that leads them toward the thought of claiming it. It uses the same tactic on Frodo. By the time they’re in Mordor, Frodo is fully aware of what the Ring is doing to him and doesn’t want it to destroy Sam like it’s destroying him. This is his heart’s reason for demanding the Ring back from Sam and refusing to give it up again. Then the Ring twists this in Frodo’s mind to make him think it’s because he wants it for himself. This is exactly what it would’ve ultimately done to Sam if their roles were reversed.

I do think the fact that Sam’s time as Ring-bearer is so brief does cause it to have a lesser impact on him overall, especially compared to Frodo. But, my dear friends, he’s not immune. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. Loving Sam as a character should not be equivalent to putting him on a pedestal and thinking he’s somehow above the canonically-indomitable will of the Ring. Tolkien wrote a lore and created stakes that are quite unique in that there’s no “exception” among our mortal protagonists. None of them are immune to the power of a Dark Lord. That doesn’t make Sam any less pure, or Frodo any less pure. It’s just a canon fact.

And it makes me love both of them even more. They both are vulnerable to its power, but both resist it as far as anyone possibly could because of the power of their love.

[delulujuls]

navy fury | mv33

im a redbull stan and max's girlie till i die (but my heart is papaya shaped) so please enjoy this one as well!

summary: max is struggling with asking for help, reader is trying her best to let him know that she always got his back

warnings: negative emotions, angst, max struggling with his demons, jos verstappen (he is the biggest warning lol)

pairing: max verstappen x fem!mclarendriver

Max would often get angry.

More often than he would like it to be. More often than he would want a consuming wave of anger to wash over him, for fury to engulf him and inject its burning venom into his veins. He would get angry over trivial things, get angry over bigger issues either. Anger would truly eat him up every time something didn't go as planned.

However, he tried to fight with his anger and negative emotions at all costs. Instead of processing them, letting go and moving on, he would bottle them up, allowing them to fester and poison his entire being. He preferred to get angry in solitude, where he knew nothing wrong would happen and even if it did, he would be the only one harmed.

Unfortunately, Max found a kind of satisfaction and comfort in hurting others. Emotions dissipated much faster when he could engage in an argument with someone rather than sitting in silence with only his own screams shattering his head.

If Max could have any control over himself and his emotions, he would unplug the anger outburst responsible for explosions of anger like this one.

He didn't hear the insults that left his mouth, didn't hear Christian's shouts telling him to calm down. He didn't feel the strong arms of the mechanics holding him back and pulling him away from Lance Stroll, who sat on the ground with a bleeding nose. In moments like this, Max was guided by nothing but emotions, desperately trying to find any way out.

In moments like this Max knew that to feel relief he had to destroy something. It didn't matter if it was a glass, his shattered fists or the bleeding nose of that Aston Martin dickhead who ruined his entire race.

Many people in his immediate surroundings distinguished the Dutchman before the anger storm and after it. Before it was Max, after it, there was only Verstappen.

Just as Max was the friendly, smiling guy who joyfully congratulated his rivals, willingly gave interviews and joked with team members, Verstappen was a walking hailstorm from which lightning could strike at any moment.

"Fucking idiot."

He growled one last time and walked deeper into the garage, where everyone he encountered averted their gaze and moved out of his way. It was always best to simply get out of Max's way and let him cool down. But no one knew that the fire of anger was just beginning to burn and the epicenter was yet to come.

"What the hell was that, Max?"

Cold water. The hiss of an extinguished fire.

He felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing his father's voice. Jos Verstappen was the only person who could instantly turn his anger into pure, filtered fear.

Max unzipped his racing suit, unable to look his father in the face. He didn't even know what to say. What was there to say either, he had just let his father down. Not for the first time though.

"I asked you a question."

His father's cold, gruff tone cut Max to the core and once again, Max was six years old, stuttering as he explained to his dad why he crashed his go-kart into his friend's. Apologizing and making excuses, saying it wasn't his fault that another seven-year-old cut him off. In his eyes, Max wasn't a grown man with an amazing track record, he was just a brat who needed discipline because he made idiotic mistakes.

His father was about to thunder over him again when the whole stormy situation was suddenly illuminated by a ray of sunshine. Quite literally, as it was Y/N still dressed in her bright McLaren suit, who upon hearing about the commotion in the Aston Martin garage hastily went out to found her friend.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Verstappen, but Max is needed in the studio," she said quickly, grabbing Max's hand "Come on, Max, we need to go."

"We'll come back to this conversation."

His father mumbled under his breath, watching them go.

The girl squeezed her friend's hand tighter and started pulling him in the opposite direction, wanting to get him away from his father as quickly as possible.

"I'm not in the mood for interviews."

"There's no interview; I had to come up with something quickly to get you out of there."

Max stopped, causing Y/N to be pulled back as well. Surprised by his sudden decision, she turned to him with a questioning expression.

"I want to be alone right now, without anyone."

He let go of her hand but she still stubbornly held onto his fingers.

"We both know you don't want to be alone."

Max shook his head in denial. The last thing he wanted was to be in her company right now. He knew that when the commotion and the crowd disappeared, all the emotions would flood over him like a toxic wave.

"You don't understand."

"Yes, I don't understand because you don't give me the chance."

The girl approached him, their bodies only a few inches apart.

"Everything is fine between us only when you're in a good mood. We are really close, we spend time together and we are acting like actual friends. But as soon as something doesn't go your way and your behavior changes, you build a thick wall between us." Y/N looked into his eyes, shaking her head. "Friends don't do that, Max."

"That's what the best friends do," he replied, looking into her eyes. As they were always in the colour of the clear sky, in that moment they were having a storm inside. "The best friends won't drown you in the shit that's swirling through their lives, they won't drag you into their inner conflicts. The best friends won't be a burden to you, you know why? Because they'll just spare you that!"

Y/N embraced him without a word. She hugged him with such force that someone would need chains to pull her away. She had no intention of leaving Max's side, no matter what he was struggling with. She wanted to help him, to be his support and to be the light in his darkest nights. She had no intention of letting him continue to deceive himself with assurances that everything was always perfect. Because life never looks that way.

Adult Max didn't return her embrace, knowing that it was for the best. Adult Max closed his eyes and tilted his head, not wanting to let a single tear escape. He hoped that by remaining distant, by hurting the girl with his indifference, she would let go of him. But Little Max didn't want to make her sad; he wanted to hug his friend and not let her go until everything will be okay again.

"I won't leave you with this, Maxie. If you like it or not."

Maxie.

Lighter.

Explosion.

He exploded in tears without any warning. He sank to his knees and tightly embraced his friend, burying his face in her stomach. Y/N stroked his hair, holding him close. She didn't try to calm him, knowing full well that he just needed to cry. He needed to let out all the sadness, anger, and bitterness that had accumulated in his veins and poisoned him for years.

When the girl kissed his wet cheek, she could swear that it left a bitter taste on her lips.

And it was exactly the venom finally letting him go.

[mhsdatgo]

By the way, you can say you hate characters and STILL admit that they were abused or harassed. There's literally nothing wrong. Denying it or romanticizing it because of a strange kink of yours won't make your hate any less evident, trust me.

Rhaenyra was abused. She's continuously taken advantage of, and brushed away the moment she isn't needed anymore. And she experiences this first hand with her own father, who completely ruins motherhood for her when she grows up watching Aemma get impregnated and either miscarry or have the baby be stillborn or die in the cradle. If Viserys had been by her side as a supporter to her claim since the start, he wouldn't have gotten Aemma pregnant again and again in the pursuit of a male child. He wouldn't have married Alicent for the same reason. Even after, the only reason why he still stands by her side, and it's time the fandom accepts this, it's solely because of his grief and guilt, because Rhae is the only remnant of Aemma.

And there it starts. Firstly, groomed and left alone naked and alone by her uncle in a brothel. Secondly, slept with Criston Cole (although she did coerce him, that's still a literal TEENAGER) then she's married to a gay man and still approached super young by her new bodyguard and just one year later she's started giving birth to his children. (Side note: FUCK Rhaenyra x Harwin. FUCK with reverb. With hard K.)

And up to this point, most fan agree that she's had a shitty life, although I don't agree with some of her choices. (like her treatment of Criston Cole and the bastards, not because I'm some kind of bigot, but because passing bastards as trueborn in THAT precise world sets them up for failure, not being legally deserving of a thone DOES NOT mean me hating them. That's for another post.)

To top it all off, she meets her uncle again, and there starts the fanfic self insert. They have sex on a beach the day of Laena's funeral, the only one of the three wives he's ever been canonically loyal to (FUCK you writers) and fans think it's soulmates meeting again or sum shit. They subtly threaten Laenor to fake his death or actually die (that's what they were trying to do, cope harder) and marry mere days after the death of Laena.

Yes, all cute and romantic (for Dumbnyras twats) but literally, has it done anything good? For Rhaenyra or like, anyone else? It just brought Daemon closer to the line of succession. Literally. That's all the good it has done.

Fast forward to ep 10. How do I even start with this? Only Jace seems to be on Rhaenyra's side. It's clear he only obeys to Daemon out of fear and is scared to talk back to him. Meanwhile, he COMPLETELY disregards his wife's, and by his faction's loyalties, QUEEN's, orders, he ignores her wails of pain as she miscarries their daughter out of pure shock and grief for her father's death. He lashes out and chokes her on the same day and people still see him as the malewife to Rhaenyra's girlboss. They're always ready to do award-deserving mental gymnastic to justify this man.

"He was planning war because he wanted to distract himself!!!!" "He only choked Rhae because he was mad at Viserys, he'd never hurt her!!!!!!"

Fuck off. Coming from probably Rhaenyra's #1 hater. Fuck. Off. Don't say you care about her place in the view of men when you're ready to justify shit like this.

This is the same man who runs off and has an affair with a teenager, and then prefers going on and having a badass death instead of joining his wife and children who need him in King's Landing.

Do I like Rhaenyra? No. Do I think that, because of this, she's never been abused, or exploited in any way, in her life? ALSO no. My distaste for her character has NOTHING to do with Viserys, Criston, Daemon, Harwin or literally ANYONE ELSE in her life.

Alicent Hightower time, baby.

My mother, my aunt, my grandmother, my entire bloodline, my Roman Empire. And more. To anyone who thinks of her as nothing but a bitter/jealous girl, go read @feretrumdulcia 's post about this matter cuz there's literally no one I've seen that words it better. (And bub if you're reading, long live you and the way you think.)

https://www.tumblr.com/feretrumdulcia/720746371814195200/i-have-seen-quite-often-that-many-people-consider

Anyone who can read this and argue that Alicent is envious/jealous or bitter, honestly needs to take the heart shaped sunglasses off, get off tumblr and Ao3, learn what media literacy is and start learning how to possess a crumble of it. To us it makes sense to synpathize with both, because we've seen the big picture. To Alicent, Rhaenyra gave her virtue to the man that almost killed her brother, and chose to believe she did not out of trust and maybe nostalgia for her friendship and easier times, only to have her father be blamed and taken away from her as a result.

She has four kids in the span of, how much? Five, six years? Seven at best? Helaena and Aemond are NINE MONTHS APART. Viserys didn't even let her rest after she gave birth to her daughter. And I'm convinced 100% that he kept her as Idk some whore he didn't need to pay for because it's stated that he never wanted Aegon but the son he butchered Aemma for. Why keep on bedding her and forcing children on her when you'd never get what you want from her?

Throughout the series she's called bitter and downright a c*nt for this and that reason. She tries convincing Viserys that Rhae's children are CLEARLY bastards and she's setting herself and them up for failure by committing treason and putting them on the throne? Nah, power hungry, jealous, bitter. She marries Helaena to Aegon as a last resort because she's Valyrian and probably would've received proposals worse than the ones Rhaenyra made that would eventually convince Viserys to give her away? Hates her daughter, abuser, shitty mom. Rhae's sons slit her son's eye out instead of running when they had the chance and she rightfully lashes out? Nah, crazy ass, for the dungeons. She gives money and moon tea to her son's rape victim to ensure she gets a way out and isn't forced to have a baby she doesn't want? Bruh, rape apologist. She goes to Aegon and RIGHTFULLY disciplines him? Abuser. Forced to show her feet to a rancid filthy man to know where her son is? Upholds the patriarchy, hypocrite. She convinces Aegon to start fighting for her family because it's either them or the Blacks and he needs to start putting his life together and fight for them, so she crowns him and makes him King? Treason, deserves death, long live the brothel queens.

Somehow, it is ALWAYS HER FAULT. And those few that admit how wronged she was make fun of her.

CAN SHE FUCKING WIN?! Or y'all just hate her because she isn't Valyrian?

Btw almost all of these arguments are the same for Book!Alicent who I personally believe to be FAR MORE than just a bitter stepmom that hates her stepdaughter. She arguably has more reasons to start a coup against her in the books without that prophecy shit.

TLDR; It's OKAY to hate characters and admit they're abused and taken advantage of at the same time. You don't have a moral high-ground on no one because you hate or love a character instead of the other.

[missglaskin]

Yan!Targaryen Men (Jacaerys, Maegor, Aemond, Aegon I, Baelon, Daemon, Viserys III, Aegon II, Rhaegar) with sister!Darling 

Note-I hope this doesn’t get a rating like my other posts. Also, I don’t specify if the reader is adopted or not to be exclusive  

There’s no greater love than one found at home 

Tags: Pure filthy smut, unhealthy/toxic relationship, obsession/possessiveness, a kinda bloodplay, breeding kink/fantasy, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), pussy slapping/spanking, marks and cuts (sexual), co-dependency, skincare (don’t ask) 

Jacaerys 

Any lady would wish to have a brother like yours. So sweet and gentle. A brother who listens to every word of his sister. Always dancing with her at feasts. Giving her flowers just to make her smile. They find his protectiveness over you to be adorable. Not knowing it’s from a fear of losing you to another man. 

Naturally, like everyone else, you were an admirer of many handsome bachelors. Whether it was a lord, a knight, or some blacksmith. Yet each turned you down. They made sure to be careful with their words, as you were a princess. And each time you ran into your brother’s arms in tears. Utterly unaware, he whispered threats into their ears.  

The two of you shared a bed. Something your mother disapproved of. But no matter her attempts, the servants report finding you wrapped in each other’s arms. There was a reassurance it was merely innocent and harmless. The act under the sheets begs to differ from the way your brother is humping you from behind. 

There was a sense of shame in Jace’s actions. But who else deserves to take your maidenhood other than him. Though he waited and waited. Still, the two of you found a way. Light shared and moans shared between-his hardened cock covered by loose fabric as you grind your pussy against it. 

There’s also you two tangled in the sheets, messaging your tongue with his own. You clench tightly around his fingers that’s buried deep inside your core, pumping you relentlessly. All while his hips thrust into the grip you have on his cock. Groaning louder each time you squeeze at the head. 

When it finally happens. Jace has become addicted to the warmth of your pussy. He was already addicted to the feeling of his fingers playing with your dripping folds. Already addicted to his tongue lapping up your pussy, drinking in your juice. This was nothing like he ever experienced, and if Jace could, he’ll die with his cock buried deep inside of you. 

Learning Valryian was necessary. It is your mother’s tongue. The lesson, however, becomes difficult when Jace presses the head of his length against your entrance, slowly filling you up as you sit down on him. You and Jace try to recite what you know. Resisting the urge to roll his hips and your squirming doesn’t help, either. It all ends the same each time with Jace having enough, gripping your waist and moving your hips. 

Jace sometimes dreams of seeing your belly swollen with his child. He can't imagine being with anyone else but you. He wants the perfect life, to be an adoring husband to a devoted wife surrounded by children who resemble you more. It will all come due in time.

Maegor 

To you and everyone else, your brother let it be known of his desire. It is within his right to want you, to have you. What man would have a better claim for his sweet sister than her own brother. Even more who dares to refuse him, to refuse the dragon. 

Your brother wanted to be the first of your everything. Your first love. Your first kiss. Your first fuck. From your mind, to your body, to your heart, to your soul. They were all his. Every inch of you belongs to him. He will give a fate worse than death to a man who dared to steal his ‘right’. 

Maegor breeds you at every chance he gets. Filling your little cunt with his massive cock. Tears coat your eyes at how he pounds into you so mercilessly. Broken moans slip from your bruised lips, feeling his hot cum flood your insides. Numbness taking over your senses. 

There’s no rest even in your sleep. Waking up to Maegor buried deep inside you. It happens so often that you merely lay there and have him do all the work. His cock squelching into your heat, moaning his name as the two of you inch closer and closer to an orgasm. Maegor loves the sight of your pussy as cum oozes out of it, pushing the tip right in front of your  entrance to keep it all in-not wanting to waste a drop of his seed. 

As much as he hates wasting his seed, he also loves the view of you on his knees, eagerly taking him. A hand on your head guiding you up and down on his cock. His sheer size makes you choke and gag every time. When it’s done as a form of punishment, you’re pulled until your nose nudges against his balls. 

Obedience is expected from you. Not only is he older than you, he’s your king. Disobeying him will result in your ass feeling sore, a burning sensation from his assault. You’re to count each one, otherwise, he’ll start all over again. Your pussy is also swollen and drenched from his hand, slapping it when you move too much. 

After making such a mess of you, he has you join him in the bath. The water so warm, it almost stings your skin. Sitting in Maegor's lap, your head resting on his shoulder as his hand traces your back. It’s an intimate moment filled with silence. Peace. 

His wives mean nothing compared to you, and they were reminded of this every day. Any night he spends with one of them would be returned tenfold. A whisper in his ear is all it takes to get rid of each of them. A sweet sister is all he needs to love him, to satisfy him, to bear him heirs.

Aemond

You and Aemond standing side to side may have looked nowhere alike, but the two of you were attached to the hip as though you were twins. Even when each had different duties. Your brother being taught to wield a sword while you were taught to courtesy and dance. 

Your brother believed the two of you were meant to wed one day. It was tradition with Aegon wed to Helaena, so it’s only fair for him to wed you as well. The two of you shared a bond like no other and who else understands, loves, and cares for his sweet sister as he does. 

Aemond wants the best for you. It’s his duty as your brother. Demanding that you read, that you study philosophy and history. That you learn the language of your ancestors. Though you’re not to blame when finding those lessons to be boring, your brother is furious when you refuse to pay attention. Your stomach on his lap, ass sore from the strikes of his hand. It’s for your own good, he tells you. 

When it comes to reciting what you know, your brother makes you lay over his lap. His hand on your cunt. Fingers caressing your folds when you get the answers right. Halting his movements when you forget or get the answers wrong. But in the end, he’ll give in to your begging, helping you reach your release. 

Aemond likes to believe he’s giving. Cheeks messy with slick as his tongue laps up against your sensitive pussy from the many times you reached your release. Reaching it once more when his fingers thrust in and out of you all while his mouth sucks on your clit. But it’s never enough for Aemond, continuing to sloppily feast on your cunt until you can no longer take it. 

Your brother wasn’t only obsessed with the taste of your tongue, but the feeling of it wrapped around his cock. There should be shame; Taking your maidenhood, but it’ll be bound to happen so why not indulge himself now. Besides, you tempted him like a seductress, latching onto him, yearning for the heat of his cock, and who is he to deny you. 

There’s no greater feeling than this. The feeling of his cock sinking into you, filling you up so well, and stretching you with every thrust. Pushing his hips as deep as he can, wanting to drown himself in your cunt. Groaning when the blunt head of his cock grazes your cervix. Your nails dig into his back, and Aemond hisses when feeling lines of blood-forming. It arouses him even further. 

Aemond was a man whose actions were said better than his words. But there are times where confessions are made. Bodies drenched in sweat, calming itself from the violet highs. And in the dawn of night, you hear the whispers, so faint. And you realize just how deep the love Aemond has for you. The madness in his eye showing its blazing intensity.

Aegon I

Your brother Aegon, as he did with Visenya, married you out of duty. His true love was Rhaenys. A sad truth you must accept. As the youngest sister, you looked up to your big brother, always following him around, eager to please him, to make him happy. 

Aegon finds himself indulging in your eagerness. Allowing you to scrub his body in the bath or undress him late at night. His most preferred is when you’re helping him shave his beard. Seated on his lap with his hands on your waist, and Aegon can’t help but watch you be so focused and take great care to be careful. 

Unlike your sisters, Aegon didn’t want you to fight. Even preferred it if you didn’t claim a dragon. Insisting your purpose was to wait for him when it was time to visit your chambers. And when he did, Aegon smelled like dragon and his eyes widened in lust at the sheer nightgown wore. In mere seconds, it was ripped to shreds. 

His reason for visiting you late at night is before you was Visenya, and before Visenya was Rhaenys. The night is spent with you bent over, his hips ramming into yours. Hands gripping the sheets as his cock pumped in and out of your tight hole. And when it was all set and done, the two of you reaching your high. He always left, and you knew deep inside, it was right back to Rhaenys. 

But soon Visenya notices Aegon’s presence lessens and more shocking when Rhaenys does. The chambers of your room are filled with everything your heart desires, from the rarest of books to every instrument and painted color imagined. The dresses becoming more and more lavished, all in the house of colors. What catches most attention is the valyrian steel necklace placed around your neck. 

His jealousy was one of fire. Easily ignited and hard to put out. Pushed to the wall with Aegon lifting your dress up. A dark look on his face as he lines his cock to your entrance. Making you adjust to his size and brutal pace. He demands to not hold in your moans, to let every single person in the castle know who you belong to. The poor bastard that caused it is currently residing in Balerion's stomach. 

In the throne room, where the halls are empty. Safe for the King and his sister-wife who’s on top of him, bouncing on his cock. Your hips gripped by Aegon, moving you up and down as he drives himself deeper into your aching cunt. Moans, groans, and skin slapping echo through the great halls. Some cuts occur, a few stings, but the pleasure helps in numbing them. 

A true testament to your brother’s love was when the two of you were standing in a mirror. Both bare as you gazed at your reflection. Stunned when Aegon places the crown, the king’s crown on your head. It’s all yours, the kingdom, the throne, him; they all belong to you. His hand reaches down to your belly. It also belongs to them. What if it’s a girl, you ask him. It’s still theirs, he claims.

Baelon

Such a sweet and kind princess you were. Loved by the court and the common people alike. Your parent’s pride and joy, a sentiment your brother shared. Baelon’s fondness for his sister was well-known around the realm. If one needs to find Baelon, they must first find you, as your brother rarely left your side. 

It doesn’t arouse any suspicions when your brother shoos any of your suitors away. Nor when his hands are on your lower back as you dance. Not when he kisses your cheeks at your name day. Neither when he rubs his thumb on your lower lip to wipe the frosting or cream. They all believe it’s just Baelon looking after his innocent and sweet sister. 

Then again, there are no eyes under the table where your brother’s hand is buried between your legs. Your thighs squeeze the hand to restrict its movements, but all it does is make him dig his fingers even deeper into your core. Baelon has the nerve to have those same fingers in his mouth afterward, tasting your release all while his eyes are on yours. 

With Baelon, most of your mornings are awakened by a sensation between your legs and a knot in your stomach. Opening your eyes to see your brother sucking the clit into his mouth. Pulling away with your arousal coating his lips as he teasingly greets you with a ‘good morning’. 

Any time you are soaking yourself in warm water. It’s almost as if your brother has a sixth sense. Coincidently being there, and he doesn’t even bother asking. Sinking in the warm water and immediately pulling you onto his lap. And somehow it always ends with most of the water spilling out on the floor. You eagerly moving up and down on your brother’s length. 

The dragon’s blood courses through Baelon’s veins and you’re reminded by his fire when he’s green with envy. Making such a mess out of you as he slams his cock into your hole, hand making contact with your ass cheek. Overstimulating you as he pumps a load after another. In your broken moans and whines, your brother makes you repeat that you belong to him over and over. 

Sometimes you wonder if Baelon wants others to find you in these compromising positions. With how often he drags you out of feasts and tourneys. When the two of you return, you’re forced to lean on him as your knees are wobbly and your whole body feels sore. Not to mention the mixture of our arousal sliding down your thighs. 

Baelon worships the ground you walk on. He might even worship you. You certainly taste like nectar on his tongue, a nectar created by the gods. You’re a perfect creature in his eyes. If Baelon could, he’ll gift you the whole  world in his hands. But if you were ever to leave, Baelon will want to burn it all down and himself so he can see a glimpse of your face again. 

Daemon

Viserys and Daemon loved their little sister. They took you wherever they went, their protectiveness and love clearly seen. But Viserys knew the bond between you and Daemon was nowhere near the one he had with either of you. It was evident even to the court.

You were his. A constant reminder that loomed over you. Everything belonged to him, everything. Your eyes, only for him to gaze at. Your lips, only for him to kiss. Your body, only for him to touch. Your heart, only for him to keep. Your cunt, only for him to breed. 

No other man deserves this. Deserves you. You were made for him. Carved and sculpted by the gods as a gift. Any man or woman who takes what is rightfully his. He’ll behead them and fuck you right next to their corpses, or better yet, he’ll make them watch. Letting it be the last thing they see before meeting their timely demise. 

Daemon takes joy in bullying you. Railing you from behind as your hands grip the window rails. Taunting you on how much of a slut you’re, taking his cock like your pussy was made for it. When he notices you biting your lips to hold your moans as those under will hear, he will spank your pussy every time you do so. He wants them to hear, to watch his sister being so drunk on his cock. 

At tourneys, you’re in the front, thighs clenched together at the sight of your brother’s prowess. It doesn’t matter whether he comes victorious. Daemon makes it a ritual to fuck you after each tourney. When victorious, every time he crowns you as the queen of love and beauty, later in his chambers, having you ride him to your liking. But when he loses, your ass is left sore and bruised as Daemon ruthlessly pounds into your dripping hole, fucking you full of his cum. 

In front of others, it is almost as if your brother’s arousal heightens. Teasing you under the table, his eyes never leaving your face just to watch how it twitches and how your lips are pressed in a thin line, doing everything to not break, not to fall apart from his fingers playing with your cunt. 

No matter how many tongues are silenced or people sent away, it doesn’t stop the rumors that circulate around the castle. The servants claim to catch the two of you in intimate positions. Found in some hall with you between your brother’s legs. A messenger once walked on him thrusting hard and deep into you, still counting his pace the rogue prince simply asks who sent for it. 

You can never deny your brother. For his violence, ruthlessness, and arrogance. There was the intense love and loyalty he had for you. One you will never find in another man. Daemon didn’t need to utter the three words. When he claims that he’ll burn cities to the ground, it’s not an empty promise. It was also his gentleness that was granted only to you. 

Viserys III

There were only three-you, Viserys, and Daenerys. They were all you had-your father, mother, and big brother all gone. Your memories were still there, the good and the bad. And most of all you remembered your brother before he became the man he was. The sweet and devoted Viserys, now cruel and mad. 

To Viserys you are his greatest strength as much as you are his greatest weakness. You are his to have, his to claim, his to fuck, his to hurt, his to love. A wine for him to drink and drink until he’s drunk under your sweet words and touches. Away from him in a day is a day to you, but to Viserys, it’s as if months have passed without your presence.

Your body belonged solely to him. The mere idea of anyone touching or gazing at it will send him into a frenzy of rage. It wasn’t the servants dressing you instead; it was your brother Viserys, styling you in the way he sees fit. Even bathing you, scrubbing your body as he joins you, expecting you to return the favor. 

You weren’t ignorant of your brother’s lust. Noticing where his hands trailed when he’d undress you. How he pulls you to sit on his lap. And your brother’s meanness was seen in how he shoves his fingers in your mouth, watching with great entertainment as you gag and drool all over his fingers. Scolding you for the noises you make and how you’re moving your hips against him. 

Viserys will marry you against Illyrio's advice. It was his destiny and duty. There’s no better suitor than his own sister and no better suitor for you than your own brother. Almost every day Viserys breeded you. It’s up to you and him to continue your bloodline, to bear him heirs when he claims the iron throne. 

Viserys’ jealousy was a dangerous one. Receiving his known saying, do not wake the dragon. Even your sister Daenerys wasn’t safe from his jealousy. Viserys already resented her for killing your mother. He tells her it’s only he who deserves to touch you, to hold you. It’s one of the reasons he was so eager to marry her off to Khal Drogo. As it means having you all to himself. 

Viserys is hardly slow and gentle in his thrusts, and how can he when feeling your insides wrap around his cock, clenching him so tightly. Feeling as if he’s losing his sanity at how drunk he’s on your pussy. With any other, he’d be embarrassed at how loud he is. But with you, his dear sweet sister, Viserys isn’t ashamed to cry out your name. Moaning how good you feel around him, demanding you call him your king. 

Tell me you love me. Was something you often heard from your brother. When he heard them call him ‘the beggar king’. After he caused a tantrum because you were too ‘nice’ to another person. When he lays his head on your chest every night. It almost is a recital, where you tell him you do love him, cradling his face and kissing him to ease any of his doubt.

Aegon II

As children, Aegon teased you as any brother would. But he was far more attached to you than Aemond, and certainly Helaena. Your mother thought the relationship was a harmless one. It’s until your brother became a man and you a lady, did your mother start to separate the both of you. 

It never worked. Aegon made you come to him at any time of need. Your finger is cut, no worries, he'll help you. Placing the said finger in his mouth, sucking on the blood as you watch him. At the time of your month, he’ll press kisses on your tummy to make you feel better, only for his lips to go lower and lower. 

Aegon’s intentions are never good. Such as when your brother sweetly offers you to taste your favorite pastry, only for him to dip his fingers in the said pastry. Having you lick and suck his fingers clean to which you start gagging when he shoves it further inside your mouth. 

His greatest weakness was the sight of your breasts. No matter how big or small they were, it’s a sight to behold. Only for his eyes to see. Capturing your nipple into his mouth, sucking harshly leaving you with the feeling of soreness afterward. 

He’ll also fuck your tits. Fisting his cock as his tip nudges the stiff buds, smearing them with pre-cum. Or better yet rubbing them against the skin between your breasts. Spurting his release all over your chest and some splattering into your face, making him hard all over again as soon as your tongue makes contact with his cum.

With Aegon, there’s never a dull day. Always wanting to try something new. Forced to eat fruits such as strawberries and pineapples all day by your brother until your stomach aches. All because Aegon overheard they will make your pussy taste sweeter. 

During tourneys, you and Aegon are nowhere to be found. Using this opportunity to fuck you in the chambers of those who angered him. Some lord judgmentally looked at him. He will have your back laid on their table with him pounding into you, having all their works scattered on the floor. His brother made a comment on his drinking. He’ll plunge his cock into your dripping pussy on his bed. Leaving behind such a mess for Aemond to find. He’ll even sneak you into some of the lord’s carriages, so when they are to leave, they’ll feel something sticky and wet on their seats. 

When he became king, Aegon would have you ride him on the iron throne. Your stomach is still in knots and your legs are on fire when he and you reach your high. Your brother then makes you sit on the throne all while he’s on his knees, face surrounded by your thighs. Aegon may wear the crown of the conqueror, but it’s you who pulls the strings.

Rhaegar 

In the stories where you hear of tall handsome princes, Rhaegar was one to come to mind. All ladies seem to think so. Eagerly surrounding and pursuing him. With the customs of your house, the ladies saw you as a competition for their prince. They were not far off, as the handsome Rhaegar’s heart was yours to have. 

The gods have blessed your brother with such beauty. That is a work of art. Compared to his, yours seemed inadequate. A thought that you believed almost broke his heart. Morning to night, your brother’s delicate hands trailed your body, soft lips brushing against the skin. All done to prove you were worthy of such a title, a title of beauty, and one deserving of his affection. 

Though the violet eyes that watched you always held a fondness. A fondness reserved only for you. Watching you do the most mundane things, even eating. Chuckling when the food’s remains would adhere to your lips or trail down, to which your brother wipes it for you. A certain gleam in his eye. 

Every morning, it was your brother who took care of your hair. Whether it’s brushing, braiding, or dipping his fingers in the coconut oil to apply it to your hair. Rhaegar loved taking care of your skin as well. Having you completely bare while he spreads the lotion at every inch of the skin, trailing dangerously close to your lower region. 

There was some resistance against his temptations. Rhaegar will be a patient man for a time, yet his father refused to announce the union. It was seen in how he’d check for you at night, tucking you in and giving you a gentle kiss on the head. Each time, it took all his strength to deny your request for him to join you. But when his patience ran thin and his strength weakened, he slipped behind the covers. A habit came to be with the prince leaving your chambers every early morning. 

With the night sky being your only witness, Rhaegar lays between your legs. Drinking you in like a starved man. The chambers’ walls echo the sound of your moans, hand down pushing his face even further. Your brother groans when you gush against his tongue, arousal coating his cheek and chin. 

Clutching him to your body, your eyes find his. Rhaegar presses his forehead to yours as his cock sank into your pussy. He could worship the sight of your face contorting to pleasure, worship the sounds of your moans in his ear. Your back arches and legs weakly wrap around his waist as he pounds your cunt. Your brother whispers nothing but sweet praises.

Outside the covers of your sheets, your brother also worshiped you. His heart was in your hands. You can break it over and over, and it still beats for you. You are his and he’s yours till the end of days, how he dreams of reciting your wedding vows to one another. How he dreams of you giving him a prince. The three-headed-dragon, words your brother muttered more than once.

[vampiretendencies]

ok but imagine instead of kie getting taken by singh’s men it’s JJ & Y/N who would do anything for each other.

like “don’t touch her!” and “let go of him!” and singh realizes their in love and ugh. been thinking about this

most definitely can imagine this and i’m gonna die on the spot so i made this little blurb to satisfy our imaginations. send me your thoughts and i’ll elaborate on them !

cw; fluff, mentions of death, guns, & s3

pairing; jj x fem!reader

The inseparable pair knew they were preeminently fucked.

No sign of parasitical nuance or help for miles, just the company of the other. Selfishly, though either of them are thanking God, that they’ve gotten captured with the other. For no one else of the Pogues would bring such infamous relief and solace— being completely infatuated tended to do that.

And at least if they die in this place, they die together.

Getting to experience a love so unheard of.

You shivered in the bed of the truck— boring your eyes with envy at the gaurd that stood tall upon arrival to Singh’s ‘operation’. If only you’d gone the same route as Kie, Pope, John B, Sarah, and Cleo, such an impact as the plane delving into water had you borderline shell shocked. But, JJ wasn’t having that either, immediately b-lining in your same opposite direction— wherever you stray, he follows.

Which explains this phenomenon before you.

The harsh metal in the truck bed is making your ass go completely numb, knees tucked into your chest in complete and utter panic. JJ’s stomach was whirling with fear, yet he vowed not show it, pulling you into his side— even in the first moments the two of you were shoved and practically thrown back there. His arm envelops you tightly, his slightly grown out mullet catching air lightly whilst he rests his chin on your shoulder. A mesh of two soaking bodies, kneading into one another.

“Gonna’ get us out of here baby.” Is all JJ whispers into the shell of your ear, before peppering sweet domestic kisses to your temple, the contact granting him some form of grace. Now you knew JJ’s plans were elaborate and full of unnecessary schemes but sometimes they worked and sometimes they didn’t. You were choosing to trust that whatever he could weasel his way into this time, would work.

The halt of the truck was sudden, sending you and JJ to a slight jolt forward. A bright white, poled in mansion-like image is in view; bulging eyed stares are shared between the two of you and JJ is secretly shitting himself as he’s walking into this blind. Guards similar to the one towering over you in the truck bed are surrounding the home, khaki colored uniforms a compliment to the guns accompanying them. Such variety as they all held one with a differentiating aim.

No words are spoken, not even a ‘get out’. Though you are being yanked up by your arm like a rag doll— wasn’t exactly something you were prepared for. Two guards stand opposite, winnowing down the trunk flat. In one swift movement, his large tight fist is clamping down onto your much smaller arm. The form of security that rode in the truck bed with you and JJ, mimicks— doing the same to JJ as the other is doing to you.

JJ is biting down so violently on his bottom lip, that the familiar taste of metallic blood is seeping into the inside of his mouth. Putting hands like that on his girl, is nearly asking ‘do you want me to splatter your brains across this pavement?’, and he’d gladly do it with a grin on his face. His vice grip is so tight on you, that his fingernails are leaving crescent moon indentions into your untouched skin, and JJ can feel his insides boiling with pure distaste.

All it takes is maybe two steps out of the truck, toward the unpromising place and JJ elbowing the man in his best, knocking his breath away. He’s squirming to get to you, and you haven’t peered back at him yet. “Let go of her fucking arm, you piece of shit.” JJ spat, nailing your gaurd at the back of his ankle with the spiked bottom of a his combat boot. Walking separate in pairs, not even making it the doomed front door.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, big shot.”

Your guard turns, taking you with him to face JJ. With roaring sun causing a slight glint in your eye. Falsified nickname, is fueling the ignition to the fire that’s burning tauntingly inside of him. The gaurd that’s sustaining JJ, has his arms stuffed dislocated like behind his back, and you wanted to stomp his face in unrecognizable.

Unbeknownst to the pair, Singh had been watching— taking note that the arrival time was much too late than as planned. Gazing through the stained glass filled doors, the alluring scene unfolding before him beneath his shaded driveway was entertaining. His muscular guards, unable to withstand two teenagers.

“Don’t ever touch him like that.”

You bit back, the way his arm was twisted it could’ve passed for being broken. Just as your boyfriend was protective of you, you were protective of him. That’s just how the dynamic always worked. Consequences don’t come to mind when you cherish your lovers life over your own— there could be a gaping hole that’s causing the world to cave in, if one was to fall the other is diving in, no second thoughts.

He’d balance with bare feet on boiling hot coals.

And you’d walk into a bank, full ski mask on, to rob it.

It doesn’t matter the length, their relationship is evidence of doing anything for someone.

So tight knit that everyone back home in Kildare was typically aware of the couples unwavering deepened love. Affectionate, intimate, and everything in between.

If they were to go on living it wouldn’t be without the other.

It wasn’t dumb luck, it was fate.

It’s taking Singh seeing this moment to fully understand that. He’s taken aback by the powerful besot, does it mean he will ease up on them, no. To Singh, those lives are of no importance to him, the gold came before anything.

“Your gonna’ earn your boyfriend here a shot to the head. That what you want?”

JJ can’t help but smirk mischievously at you for rooting for him. He was quite the sight, darkened eyes through damp tresses, muscles prominent past his sleeveless tee. Definitely not something you should be paying grace attention to right now. A gun is lifted to the center of JJ’s forehead, but you don’t fault. Figuring you’ve already trampled through all this mess, what’s the worst.

“Then you’ll have to shoot me too.”

“Glady-“

“You will do nothing of the sort. They are in love y’know.”

The short man with slick hair comes into view, signaling the guards to release the two of you. Embracing eachother within milliseconds, you are colliding with JJ’s chest. A slow kiss is shared, one that is full of yearn and luminous luster. Hands roaming to assure themselves that they were there in one piece and alive. This earns a clap from Singh, more than right about the couple being instantaneously in love.

“So what? cause’ they’re in love they get a free pass?!”

The guards stood dumbfounded, faces scrunched in disgust at Singh thinking all of this under-minded work to get them their was for nothing. All Singh could do was chuckle— they really didn’t know him, did they?

“Perhaps they will hold hands in death, if they don’t get me what I want.”

[verysium]

ACT 1, SCENE 4: blue lock headcanons

shidou would view traditionally ugly creatures as strangely cute. it's not a disgusting cockroach, it's a silly little bug with eyelashes as long as his. no, he's not going to let go of that scraggly one-eyed cat that likely has rabies. it looks too sweet to be abandoned on the streets. his dream childhood pet was definitely a piranha.

aiku wears band t-shirts without knowing the actual music group. no, he does not listen to sex and the pistols, he just thought the design looked very cool. would also wear lana del rey merchandise just to impress the ladies. the only song he realistically knows is west coast, and even then he's only heard it at a random sushi restaurant.

reo would have stereotypical rich people problems. he can't decide if he should bring his chauffeur and valet or actually drive the car himself for your upcoming date. also spends at least one hour seriously pondering over which gucci silk pattern tie looks better on him. trick question, they're both the exact same shade.

shidou steals your covergirl perfect point eyeliner because he thinks it looks way better on him. also a big fan of body glitter and super vulgar eyeshadow palette names. his favorite hue so far is that one hot pink fuchsia that literally burns your eyes with its brightness. nothing is too neon with this man.

ness is the epitome of the sunshine-turned-unhinged-maniacal-killer trope. he would be the bestest boy, but if someone even lays a single hand on you, he’s already plotting their murder. eerily good at hiding bodies but would never divulge his secrets in fear of scaring you off.

shidou would walk unashamedly to the women’s clothing section of the general department store. would never be embarrassed by the bra sizes. you have a double D? he’s already trying three of the cup sizes on just to see if he can get you a comfortable one. if you’re part of the itty bitty titty committee, he wouldn’t judge either. this man loves femininity in all its full glory.

aryu exclusively uses dior beauty. he would rather die than use a generic drugstore makeup brand. sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a dermatologist because this man knows the exact shade, tint, and quality of product for every possible skin tone and type. also very passionate about the controversies behind animal testing and parabens. would be exceedingly picky when it comes to anything he smears on his face (think jeffree star but without the problematic issues.)

sae has his phone screen set to default wallpaper. he only has the translator app downloaded, and that's about it. his personal trainer takes care of all the rest of his stats. after he started dating you though, he kept pictures of you in his private photo albums.

noa cannot tell a white lie to save his life. if he doesn't know something, he will not know something. he doesn't see the point in hiding that. sometimes has trouble reading the room, so you need to remind him that brutal honesty and pure rationality aren't always the way to go. he does become more conscientious after that.

bachira used to draw crayon portraits of all the imaginary monsters he saw at night. scared the shit out of his parents because they thought he was hallucinating (he actually was.) nowadays, he's a lot tamer because you force him to take his meds.

isagi is, in fact, the number one mind reader and manipulator throughout the entire series. this man is clairvoyant, psychic, and telepathic all packaged into one. sometimes his right ear twitches, and he just knows someone is talking about him behind his back. unfortunately, all of this occurs in his head, so no one on the outside world actually knows about his sixth sense.

rin was absolutely bombarded with valentine's chocolates last year, but when he sorted through the entire pile and realized you hadn't given him one, he returned them all to their respective senders. will refuse any form of sweets unless it came directly from you. you need to be there physically to hand him the box.

kaiser writes, thinks, and speaks entirely in german even if no one else can understand him. he secretly can speak english but chooses not to because he absolutely hates anglicization. refuses to compromise his own language and culture just to fit in with the rest of the world. it's degrading. if he had it his way, german would be the new lingua franca. definitely thinks translation is for dummies. what do you mean you're not already bilingual? you better run, not walk, to that little green owl app. does use his foreign accent to make you feel flustered though. has a voice kink but in a non-traditional sort of way. you have to be the one turned on by his voice. only then will he start feeling it.

yukimiya loves it when you lose your shit. one time a jerk cut you off in traffic, and you started aggressively cursing. he fell in love with you right there on the spot. it was something about the fire in your eyes and the way you refused to take any attitude from the other party. that self-assertiveness you exhibit is so empowering.

aiku takes you out to karaoke bars just to hear you sing. you look so pretty under the purple disco lights, belting your little heart out to the rock lyrics. sometimes he has to take a minute to just appreciate how lucky he is to have you.

nagi didn't know that you have to actively check and update your email inbox. he had no clue school even started until one day the principal called his parents over his thirteen student absences. he thinks it's a headache to even get out of bed and put his fingers on his laptop keyboard. since when was the distance between his arrow cursor and the search bar that wide? it looks too long for him to reach. maybe he should just do this tomorrow.

reo does not know what saving money is. the first time you asked him for a promo code, he looked at you as if you had just spouted a strange language. when you showed him your little wallet full of cut-out coupons, he literally had to hold them up to the light and closely inspect them. it was definitely a moment of enlightenment.

sae likes anklets, especially the super thin gold chain ones. something about the way it brushes against his bare leg when you sleep beside him drives him out of his mind. he's also a sucker for subtle jewelry as evidenced by his necklace and wrist bands.

otoya practically lives for instant gratification. he would be guilty of love bombing. loses interest quickly, but sometimes wishes he could actually commit for once. football is important to him because it is one of the only activities he has consistently practiced for over a decade.

karasu is down bad for anyone who can actually outsmart him. you got a higher mark than him on the recent exam? damn, his heart just beat a little faster. spaces out in a love-filled haze whenever you ramble on about your nerdy little subject interests. he is a sapiophile through and through. intelligence just does it for him.

loki is the type of person who absolutely demolishes your self-esteem, and yet you still cannot bring yourself to hate him. when people say god has his favorites, they mean this man right here. he would be an innately talented genius while simultaneously being the most humble human being in existence. at this point, it's not his problem. it's a you problem. try harder next time.

chris is very similar to a neurosurgery resident. he has the largest self-entitled ego in existence. not a single day goes by when he doesn't remind you that he is, in fact, one of the highest ranking football players in the world. you can't say anything about it though because he has rightfully earned his arrogance. i mean, what are you going to use against him? his grueling hours of blood, sweat, and tears? this man works harder than the devil himself. in fact, he is the devil.

rin is the type to get emotionally attached to the most ordinary objects ever. he collects batteries and keeps a separate drawer as a graveyard for them once they die. the triple A ones get a special funeral since they're so hard to find. he just can't bring himself to let go of objects that no longer serve a purpose (just like his relationship with sae, sorry not sorry.)

hiori cannot go to bed unless it is absolutely dark. the curtains have to be closed. the door has to be locked. everything has to be drowned in pitch black. the reason he does this is because he still has flashbacks from that tiny strip of light underneath his bedroom door. his parents would argue all night when they thought he had gone to sleep. it still haunts him to this very day.

nagi wishes he could be a cat. sleeping all day and sunbathing on the rooftop seem like great ways to spend his life. unfortunately for him, he is not a cat. when he dies though, he wants to be reincarnated as one. either that, or a rock.

rin snores like a whole power drill at night. sae secretly hates his brother for that but can’t bring himself to wake him. whenever the itoshi family goes on vacation, ear plugs are not an option but a necessity.

chigiri knows ventriloquism. he used to play with his sister's dolls and make up character voices for each of them. definitely uses it as a party trick or as a way to make you laugh when you've had a bad day.

sae always keeps his feelings to himself. sometimes he finds it easier to rant to you than others, but then he almost always ends up retracting back into himself after realizing just how much he's revealed. he hates being emotionally slutty.

ness is the big scary dog in his relationship with kaiser, not the other way around. everyone thinks kaiser is the intimidating one, but ness wears a leash for a reason. one of them is the chihuahua, and the other one is a rottweiler. you can already guess who is who.

reo was having a mental breakdown in his limousine one time, but he ran out of his usual luxury aloe vera lotion tissues. instead of buying more, he took out his cheque-book and ripped out the pages to dry his tears. money is just paper to him. it can be recycled (no, it can't.)

loki is the type to show you a sweet and heartwarming smile before pulling out the most atrocious uno card combination in existence. i'm talking reverse, wild card, skip, draw 2. you sat there for twenty-five minutes trying desperately to draw a green. by the time you were done, he only had one card left. (screw you, loki.)

niko draws his own manga whenever he doesn't like how the official plot ends. if the canon ever diverges from the way he imagined it in his own head, he will draft his own fan fiction instead. one time, he rewrote an entire shonen jump series just to bring his favorite character back to life (*cough cough* said character wears a blindfold.)

karasu is definitely the "um, actually..." type of student. he will always have a rebuttal on hand. the truth is never black-and-white with this man, and he will argue both sides if it furthers his own agenda. he reads the encyclopedia front and back every night just so he can pull out a random arbitrary fact to win an argument some time in the near future.

shidou had a bad habit of chewing pens as a child until one day it finally exploded in his mouth. from then on, he vowed only to chew glittery gel pens. that way when it exploded in his mouth, his tongue would be stained a bright, shimmery purple. if you ever got him a scented gel pen pack, his life would finally be complete.

rin cannot differentiate between colors. if you asked him to find the difference between bubblegum pink and cotton candy pink, he would not know. to him, seven colors is already a lot to memorize. when he was a child, he only drew pictures with a single color because it was less of a hassle that way.

otoya used to think lime green was the most aesthetically pleasing color in existence. almost considered dying his hair that shade until karasu told him that girls don't actually like guys who look like neon highlighters. still wishes he did it though. he wants to glow in the dark.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[xo-cod]

https://www.tumblr.com/xo-cod/729110250731520000/you-know-what-i-think-would-be-cute-if-one-of-the?source=share

will u expand on this pls?? esp w simon i love it it's SO CUTE🥰

thank you so much babe :") <33 i just did simon but i can def do the others if you'd like 🤍

continuation from here

cw: abusive past + fluff

"look daddy! that's like you and mum!" her soft laugh of happiness fills his ears and for a minute he just watches her, the shock plastered on his face and then he takes a glance at the tv again. the toys he was placing away in its rightful place was forgotten as he straightened his back, watching the disney characters. they seemed so happy, so in love.

he stood still for a minute, wondering if she was being genuine as he looks back to the little girl who was giggling at him. he didn't have a healthy childhood at home and even as he entered his adult life, nothing but blood, guns and wars surrounded him.

it took him by surprised that lieutenant ghost, the man who knew little to nothing about love and happiness and peace now had a wife and a baby who was growing up in the homes he always wished he could live in as a child.

the only romantic love he could see around him was the abuse his father put his mother through, watching the light dim from her eyes everyday was a sight simon didn't think he could ever forget.

there were some scars that were seared so deep, even after time had run its course the pain was still fresh as ever. he didn't think he would ever heal from the shackles that wrapped themselves so deeply around him, burdens that he had to carry day in and day out in his life all the time. even though being with you had significantly lessened them, there were still moments that made him question everything he ever knew.

so being a father was scary but so exciting. the nerves were bundled up deep inside him, utterly worried that he wouldn't be able to love the child like they deserved. he remembered the night he paced your hospital floor while you were sleeping, full of the medications they were giving. all he could do was helplessly look at you, his heart pounding at the bundle of joy soon to be arriving. could he love them? or did the trauma from his father run incredibly deep that he'd cower away and hide? they were irrational fears, he knew that much. but it didn't help either way, he wanted to be the possible father ever. but how could he do that when he was do broken from his own?

and then his baby was born and he almost gave out, trembling when he held her tiny tiny body in one arm as the hand of the other ever so gently caressed her head. he looked at you with shock, his big brown eyes tearing as he chuckles softly. that was a sight you'd never forget. a sight he could never either

"me an' mama huh?" he spoke softly, his gaze going from the tv to back to his daughter who nods eagerly at him. she's so happy, its enough to make him emotional. because of him, she was safe and loved. because of him, a man who thought he was too damaged beyond repair, had a child who completely adored him and was living happily

she would never know a life full of abuse and suffering, he would make sure of that

he would kill for her, die for her and everything in between yet even so the small niggling voice of doubt filled his head every damn day wondering if he was cut out to be a father. would he change tomorrow, become the abusive intoxicated asshole like the man raised him was? he grew up in a world full of pain and torture and guns, happy things were far and few between.

"you little munchkin, c'mere" he teased softly, holding her in his massive arms as they both cuddle close together. she shrieks in delight when he blows soft raspberries on her cheeks and kissing her forehead. and he only looks at his baby with a look of pure unconditional love, his smile widening at every happy sound she made. even if he never got the love he deserved as a child, the love he received from you and the baby you both created was enough for him.

it was times like this, moments that he cherished so close to his heart <33

[klausysworld]

hi can you do headcanons about klaus mikaelson finding out you are his mate after unleashing his hybrid curse and you are part of elena's group?

Klaus realising you’re his mate when he breaks his curse:

Klaus had seen you around school when he was pretending to be Alaric, he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, your smile was angelic, he assumed it was just Alarics body reacting to seeing you

That was until after he broke his curse, after his trip with Stefan when he saw you again at school during the senior prank night.

You walked straight into him, his arms immediately circling you on pure instinct and pulling you to his chest

He felt his heart swell and a need arise in him, when he looked down and locked eyes with yours his lit up and shone gold, his lips parted as he tried to form words, it was as though his world had shifted and you were the only thing he ever knew

His hands went to cup your face and he pressed a kiss to your lips, a short one but still

You were also in some sort of trance and reciprocated the action, when you heard Elena gasping horrified and running away while yelling the name Klaus you snapped out of your moment

Klaus’s expression dropped when he saw the fear and realisation settle onto your face, the step you took back had his soul shattering

When you ran he let you and went after Elena, after he had figured how to save his hybrids he went to collect you. He carried you while you attempted to twist in his hold

He had you locked in the car while he spoke to Damon about Mikael and then took you to Portland with him to find more werewolves to turn.

On the trip he tried his best to show his soft side for you, he gave you things to do, books, crosswords/word searches, Netflix, just all channel’s.

He supplied endless snacks and brought you as many different foods as he found available to see what your favourites were

He sat and spoke to you on the evenings when he was done searching for the wolves. He would tell you stories about the last and how different things had changed

Once you had let yourself open up a bit he would try to inch closer to you, hold your hand, have you leaning against him or even him led on you while he listened to any and all things you would share

When you asked him why you felt so safe with him he thought it would be best to just let you know what was going on, he told you what he already knew about mates and how his bond was so much stronger because of his tightened feelings through his new hybrid status.

From then you decided to let him court you, you didn’t want either of you to suffer through the pain of a rejected mate and so tried to let him in

He would keep you close, always. He didn’t like anyone else being near you, it scared you sometimes how possessive he could be but you understood that he had a bad history with abandonment and Rebekah warned you of paranoia.

Klaus left you presents all the time. Anything to have your attention, have you seeking him out. When you came to speak to him first his stomach would flip

You actually kissed him first because he was afraid you’d push him off him like you sort of did when he pecked you at the school, he was overjoyed and smiling like an idiot

From then he wanted you to move in, he wanted to have you in his bed, to hold you, to love you and be free to express his care for you as often as he could without any judgement from the outside world

He said ‘i love you first’ and wanted to die when you took a second to long to respond but ultimately saying you loved him to had him throwing his arms around you and carrying you back upstairs

As Klaus’s mate you are literally treated like a queen. Always and Forever.

[mrsparrasblog]

Mission save the human race Pt2

Pt1

You spend the night talking to John after you can't sleep anymore. Too many thoughts enter your brain. Getting pregnant at this time is dangerous, but it's what every good person would do, right? Save the human race.

"I'm a bit afraid."

"You don't need to be, Dove; I'm going to support you; either way, you saved Johnny." he reasured you.

"What if I die while giving birth? Then the whole thing is useless."

"First of all, you are a doctor; you can explain all these things beforehand, and we are soldiers going to take care of you; we would be better than delivery nurses, well, maybe except Kyle."

You chuckled. "And, um, do I need to sleep with every one of you?"

"Not at all, love; you have free choice; you can just choose one, or you can have more than one, you know since the chances are better."

"And they sure want me?"

"I think yes. Look at you."

"You only say that because I'm the only woman on earth."

"Not at all, dove; you're my type, even if there were millions."

"Liar," he pulled your hand and laid it down on his rock-hard dick.

"See how much I want you, and that's only by looking at you."

He stroked the hair out of your face and captured your lips in a kiss. The kiss was shy and thoughtful at first but turned more and more into a battle of dominance, and you knew you wanted him. "So fucking gorgeous. I wouldn't want to share you, but I'm a good man."

You rested your head against his shoulders. "I want to do it with all of you, but not together," he chuckled at your words and how flustered you got to admit your desire.

"We can talk further tomorrow; just let me cuddle you now." You fell asleep, almost suffocating in his strong arms.

------------

The next morning, you went upstairs, entangling yourself from John's massive body.

You went straight to the room where Johnny lay, checking on his fever. He cooled down overnight. You were kind of proud that you managed your surgery well without proper equipment and medication; you're a fucking genius. If the Hopkins had seen this, they would have regretted declining you after medical school.

You rubbed a paste on Johnny's surgery wound and disinfected it.

You were a bit unprofessional as your eyes glanced down at his pure muscles; you wanted to trace them down with your fingers, of course only for medical reasons. You heard the door open, and Simon stood in front of you, only wearing briefs. His thick thighs were covered in scars, and his pecs were well-defined and so fucking tall. You wanted to climb him like Mount Everest, and you sure as hell will soon.

"My eyes are up here, darling." You blushed as he noticed you staring.

"Sorry, you're just so tall, and it's hard to look up." You laughed at your own lie.

"Price told me about the little plan." He walked close to you, pinning you against the wall with sheer force. His calloused fingers touched the hem of your shirt. "I look forward to helping you, and Johnny too. Play a bit with the other boys so you'll be stretched out for both of us."

"Both of you," you breathed out in fear and arousal at the same time.

"We like to share sweet little things like you," he said, pressing his erection towards you and fucking hell which horse was that.

"I know it's big," he said and you swallowed, afraid.

"I'm going to make your stomach swell pretty fast, Doll," he said, pushing you against the wall, his fingers groping against your round ass.

"Simon-"

"Shh, doll, it's okay. We're going to take care of you soon."

You just nodded, unable to do, think, or say anything.

"Just be a good girl today and give your sweet cunt to the captain; he has a thing for cute innocent girls like you." He kissed you around your neck and then let go, making his way back to his boyfriend.

So they would share you. Should this make you feel afraid or aroused?.

You tried to shake it away and went to the kitchen, preparing some fruits for breakfast.

Price awoke to find himself alone in the bed, the sheets cooling against his skin. He sat up and stretched, yawning widely, before looking around for you.

Finding you in the kitchen, he smiled and walked over, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind.

"I feel so domestic with you around me," you said, taking in his smell.

John chuckled, leaning in to kiss your neck. "Domestic? That's a new one. But I like the sound of it." He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "You know, I could get used to this—being with you, taking care of you."

"Already acting like I'm your little wife."

He smirked, his lips curling into a smile. "Well, if it means I get to be your husband, then I think I'm going to like this arrangement very much." He turned you around to face him, his hands sliding up your arms.

"Are you fulfilling your husband's duties then?"

John leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. "Oh, I plan to," he murmured before capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, asserting his dominance and affection at the same time.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, needing to go on your tiptoes to reach him.

John's body reacted to yours, his hands moving lower to squeeze your butt through your clothes.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your beautiful eyes as he trailed kisses down your neck and shoulders. "I love the way you respond to me," he said, his voice sounding horace and full of lust.

"And how do I respond, John?" You sounded cocky, and the awareness to not tease a man twice your strength left your body.

John's lips curled into a sinful smile. "With fire, Angel, just like this." He bit down gently on your earlobe, eliciting a soft moan from you. "You're so fucking sexy when you submit to me."

"What makes you think I'll submit to you easily?"

Price's eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice remained soft and commanding. "Because I know you want to," he said, trailing his fingers down your stomach and teasingly tickling your lower abdomen. "You love the feeling of being taken and owned." He pulled a slap on your ass, showing you how he in fact owns you right now.

"Oh, do I now?" you asked.

He chuckled, kissing your neck again. "Oh, yes. You do." He ran his hand up your thigh, gently caressing the inner part of your thigh and teasingly brushing against your pants, which were already soaked.

"You're so responsive,"

"John, everyone could walk in the kitchen any moment," you whined, afraid of what others would think of you. You gave in so easily that it didn't even take you a week to decide to become their personal fucktoy.

His eyes flickered at the door for a moment. "That just makes it more exciting," he said, his voice deep and husky. "The thought of someone walking in on us and seeing you like this turns me on."

"Oh, it turns you on how they see how good you take care of me."

"Yes," Price admitted, his voice low and raw with desire. "I love the thought of them watching me claim what's mine." He slid a hand down to cup your pussy through your panties, his fingers teasing your swollen clitoris through the fabric—you hadn't had this friction in a while, making you almost cum from it.

Mhm, John, stop, I didn't shave." Well, you trimmed, but try to shave properly in an apocalypse.

Price's eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned in to whisper against your ear. "I don't care if you haven't shaved—I even prefer it this way," he said, his beard tickling against your skin. "I want you just like this- all natural."

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, his hand still buried in your panties. "You're so fucking sexy," he murmured against your skin.

"You think so?" You knew you looked good, but good enough to be desired by these seven literal gods. You doubted it.

His eyes are burning with pure desire for you. "I fucking know so," he growled, pulling you closer and grinding his hips against your body—his erection was already there, and it was fucking big. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Angel."

"You're the most handsome man I've ever seen." Well, you couldn't quite decide which of them was the hottest, but he didn't need to know that right now.

He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Flatterer," he teased, kissing you gently on the lips. "But I'll take it."

You kissed him deeper, moaning into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. He could feel your warmth through his pants, and it only made him harder.

With one swift move, he lifted you onto the kitchen counter, pinning you under his strong arms. He lifted you like you weighed absolutely nothing.

"Mhm, John needs you," you whined. You could not hold your composure anymore; you felt lust for him - primal lust for him—like nature wanted it to be; you were animalistic.

"You have me," John said, his voice rough with passion. "Always." His hands moved deftly to slip off your shirt.

Now you sat there on the counter only wearing a bra and some short skirt with spread legs so he could always reach your begging mound. You thought about how any of the boys could walk in at any second, and it only fueled your desire. In the deepest twisted place in your mind, you thought about them taking you at the same time. You blamed it on ovulation week or not being fucked for years straight.

And even though of the sex you had before was frustrating, your ex just couldn't get you off, rubbing on your poor clit like it was a lottery scratcher. How many orgasms you faked, and you asked yourself if you needed to fake one with them too? This would be disappointing.

Price took a moment to admire the view before him, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin. He reached up and undid your bra with practiced ease, letting it fall away to reveal your perfect breasts. His mouth watered at the sight of them. "You're so fucking beautiful." Price smiled as he leaned in, his lips brushing against one of your hardened nipples. "I could spend all night just worshipping these," he whispered before taking one into his mouth and sucking gently.

"Then do it," you whined, wanting him to suck your nipples.

"With pleasure," John replied. He continued to lavish attention on your perfect breasts, his hands teasing and pinching the nipples while his mouth moved from one to the other, lapping at them with hungry kisses. You could barely take it longer. Your eyes darkened from hunger.

You slipped off his shirt as he continued to suck on your hard nipples.

You oggled over his muscular frame; he wasn't the lean muscle type; he had thick, delicious muscles with hair on top of them; he was the pure definition of masculinity; your primal needs chipped in when you saw him, thinking of how you resembled the perfect pair.

He groaned as he felt your hands on his skin, his muscles tightening at the touch. He pulled away from your breasts for a moment, looking down at you with a predatory smirk. "You like what you see?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"I love what I see."

"Good," he replied. He reached down and pulled your panties off, tossing them aside before leaning in to lick a path up your stomach towards your breasts again. You freeze because of your exposed sex; your wetness has already flowed down your thighs.

"I'm going to make sure you scream for me."

"Pretty sure of your skills?" The bratines never left your body; you were lucky that John was a soft dom, and you would regret your bratines sooner or later on Simon's Day.

"You have no idea," John growled, his voice thick with desire. He took your hardened nipple into his mouth once again, sucking and biting gently before moving on to the other one.

"John, I need your mouth somewhere else." You slowly grew impatient, your hole almost begging and crying to finally be stuffed.

"Oh? And where would you like that?" he asked, his voice still rough with lust. He continued to tease your nipples, flicking his tongue over them as he waited for your answer.

"You know where," you whined, hoping he wouldn't let you say it. For fucks sake, you were a medical professional, but you couldn't say that you wanted him on your vagina, stuffing you so badly that it reached your cervix.

Price smirked knowingly. "I've got a few ideas," he replied, his hands sliding down your body. Before he picked you up and laid you down on the kitchen table.

"A fine meal needs to be eaten on the dinner table." You blushed at this sentence.

He looked up at you, his eyes burning with desire, as he took in the sight of your exposed, dripping cunt. "You're so wet for me," he whispered before lowering his head and pushing his tongue into your pussy.

You screamed loudly at the sudden friction grabbing his hair.

John moaned at the taste of you, his tongue lapping up your juices eagerly. He used his hands to spread your legs wider, giving him better access to your most sensitive spots.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you scream."

"John," your moan filled the whole house, and you just hoped you didn't wake Johnny up. Poor boy needs his sleep.

"Fuck, yes," Price panted between licks and thrusts of his tongue. He reached up to grab one of your legs, pulling it over his shoulder as he continued to eat you out.

"mhm feels so good." You moaned, your eyes closed.

"John hummed in response, his tongue swirling around your clit. He reached up to squeeze one of your breasts, eliciting a moan from you. "You feel so fucking good," he murmured, loving the way you were responding to him.

He pushed two fingers into your tight hole, fucking them in and out while he continued to eat you out.

"Don't stop," you begged and felt a bit pathetic. You let an unknown man eat you out, which wasn't the worst part. You let seven fucking men breed you.

"I won't stop," he promised, his voice low and rough with desire.

You shook completely under him, screaming in pleasure. He moaned at the sounds you were making, his arousal growing as he felt your body tense and quiver under him.

He picked up the pace, his fingers thrusting deeper and faster, while his tongue worked overtime on your clit.

"I'm going to---- fuck." you screamed.

He felt your walls clench around his fingers, signaling your impending orgasm. "Cum for me," he growled, sucking even harder on your clitoral area, leaving a small bite on your clit.

And for the first time in your life, a man was competent enough to let you reach an orgasm, and it felt better than everything you felt in your life before you saw stars shaking like you had an exorcism, and so you came squirting all over His tongue. He groaned in delight, his tongue thrusting deep into your pussy to catch every drop of your sweet nectar.

He continued to lap at you, savoring the taste of you as he held your hips down firmly, not allowing you to take away his meal. You thought they looked starved when they ate your food for the first time, but this was a completely new level of starving.

"Fuck," you were a bit embarrassed as you saw the wet puddle on the table and his beard completely drenched." I never squirted before. I'm so sorry," you apologized, your cheeks burning red.

He chuckled, raising his head to look at you. "There's nothing to be sorry about," he assured, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I've never had a woman squirt before, either."

"Was it bad?"

He smirked. "Oh, I'd say it was fucking incredible." He pulled his fingers out of your puffy hole slowly, licking them clean before leaning in to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste your cum on his tongue, and it was so messy and hot at the same time.

"Do you want me to suck you off, or do we go straight to the fucking part?" You asked, wanting to make him feel good too.

He stepped between your spread legs, his erection jutting out proudly. He looked down at you with a predatory grin, his hand reaching out to cup one of your breasts. "As much as I love to see you on your knees for me, we can't waste an ounce of cum, sweetheart."

"Can you go in slow? I didn't have someone inside in years," you asked, afraid, especially not someone so thick. His dick was perfect, comfortable, 7,5 inches curved to the right and fucking thick, and he had a vein that probably would press against your G-spot perfectly, and fucking beautiful dark curls between his legs, making him seem only more masculine than he already was.

He nodded and positioned himself at your begging entrance, teasing you with only the tip of his cock before slowly pushing inside. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, savoring the feeling of your warmth enveloping him.

"God, you're the biggest I ever had." He almost pulled you apart; it burned to take him inside, and without proper preparation, you sure as hell wouldn't be able to take him.

John chuckled at your words, pleased with the compliment. "You'll have to tell me how it feels when I'm balls deep inside you," he murmured, thrusting deeper into your shaking body.

Feeling you start to relax and take him deeper, Price began to move faster, his hips grinding against yours in a sensual rhythm. "Fuck, I love how you take my cock," he growled out between gritted teeth.

"Oh God"

"John is enough; no need to call me God Sweetheart." He picked up the pace even more, slamming into you with primal force. His free hand moved to grip your breast roughly, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "You like that? You want more?" he asked breathlessly.

"I want your cum, John," you whined.

Hearing those words sent a surge of lust through his body. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. "Gonna cum all over your pretty little pussy, going to make you so full of my cum."

"Yes, John," you whine.

"Going to make you all round, going to fucking breed you."

You whined and moaned; the primal need to let him fill you up and mark you as his own filled you. You needed this, and not only for selfless reasons; you enjoyed it as much as he did it.

"You're going to beg me for my cock after this." He pounded into you harder, his dick twitching with anticipation. "Feel that? Feel how much I love fucking you?"

"Yes, feels so good." You whined, "Breed me, John." You didn't know what took over you, but you didn't care. Shame is for post-nut clarity.

Hearing your whine only made him more turned on. He slammed into you again and again, each stroke deeper than the last. "That's it, baby. Take it all. I'm going to fill you up so fucking good." John leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you a mommy," he growled out before slapping his massive cock against your g-spot once more.

He could feel his impending release as he continued to thrust into you; he never had something perfect like you—such a good woman between his filthy, not-worthy hands. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you tightly as he pushed deeper into you than ever before. You felt him hitting your cervix.

"That's it, baby. Take my cum. Let me empty myself inside you."

"Yes, please, Daddy, cum in me."

Price groaned loudly as he felt himself erupting inside you. His hips bucked wildly, driving his cock even deeper as hot, thick cum filled your wanting womb. He held nothing back, emptying himself into her before finally pulling out with a wet pop. "There you go, baby. That's what a real man does to his woman."

"And I'm your woman?" You asked completely out of your mind, probably about hormones.

John smirked, pulling you into his arms. "You sure as hell are." He kissed you passionately.

"Now we need to make you a mommy."

"Well, you already came to me," you giggled.

He rolled his eyes. "I've got plenty more where that came from, sweetheart." He traced his finger down your stomach. "Now let's see about making you a baby; besides, I don't want any of these muppets making you pregnant before me." You didn't strike him as the jealous type since he shared you with seven men, but maybe it was the thing about being the first that fueled him.

"You have the stamina for a second round? Price grinned, giving you a wink.

"With you? Hell yeah." He pulled you close and kissed you again, starting to nibble on your ear. "And this time, I'll make sure I hit the back of that sweet cunt of yours." He carried you to the bed and laid you down.

The bed dipped at his weight, his hard cock still rock-hard against his stomach. He positioned himself between your legs and looked into your eyes. "Ready for round two, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy." You knew how crazy it made him when you called him this.

Price leaned down and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrust his hips upward. He groaned into the kiss, feeling the head of his cock push against your entrance once more. "God damn, you feel good."

You put your legs on his shoulders. He imideatly kissed your ankles and hit you deeper with every thrust. He couldn't help but moan in pleasure. He looked into your eyes as he began to move his hips back and forth, slamming into you with each powerful stroke. "Fuck, you're so tight."

You clenched around him, and it only fueled his primal instincts. "That's right, baby. Let's make you a mommy." His fingers dug into your hips, pulling her closer as he continued to pound into you.

"Mhm, going to cum soon, John," he grinned as he heard your moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it out." He felt your cunt clench around him as you shook from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Thank you, Daddy."

"You're welcome, Dove. Now let's see if we can get you pregnant." With that, he pulled out of your pussy and rolled over onto his back, beckoning you to straddle him once more. "Ride me until you're ready for another."

You let your hips fall on his thick cock, whining as he spread you in half, and so you began to ride him, your boobs jumping up and down.

He moaned at the sight of your ass bouncing against his full balls as you rode him hard. He grabbed your hips tightly, helping you to move faster and harder on his shaft. "That's it, baby. Ride me until you can't take it anymore."

He reached up, grabbed one of your perky breasts, and began to play with your nipple while you rode him. "Do you want me to crawl inside you again, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy," you nodded and clenched around him just at the thought.

Price loved the way you answered. "Then keep riding me, dove." He pulled on your nipple gently, watching as you let out a small cry of pleasure. He continued to play with your breast while he watched your ass bounce up and down on his cock.

"That's it, baby. Show Daddy how much you love his cock."

"I love it so much, Daddy."

He groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. "Oh, fuck yes. You feel so good." He continued to play with your breast while he started to circle your clit while you rode him.

John's voice dropped to a whisper as he spoke his darkest desires into your ear. "I want to fuck you in every hole, dove. I want to mark you as mine and give you all the babies you want."

He continued to rub your clit in small circles as you rode him harder. Price could feel his orgasm building quickly. That's it, baby. Give Daddy what he wants." He reached up and pinched your nipple hard, watching as you let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. I want to watch you squirt all over my cock."

"Mhm, fuck," you moaned. You couldn't take it any longer.

He continues His work on your abused clit Till you clench around him and squirt all over His dick.

John groaned as he felt your pussy clench around his cock and squirt all over him. "Fuck, yes. That's it, dove." He continued to rub your clit even after you came, wanting to draw out every last drop of pleasure from your body.

"Too much, Daddy," you whined as he overstimulated you.

Price chuckled softly at your whines, his fingers still working on your clit. "Sorry, dove. Did I go too far?" He asked teasingly, knowing full well that he hadn't. Instead, he loved pushing your limits and seeing just how much you could take.

"That's it, dove. Give Daddy all of it." He whispered in your ear before pulling out of your wet pussy and slapping his hard cock against your slick mound once more. "Daddy going to fill you up now, and you're going to take everything, understood?"

You were too fucked out to talk; you just nodded.

He fucked with a mean pace into you, his balls slapping against your ass, leaving his mark, but that wasn't enough; he needed to mark your breasts too, to show everyone he was the first to have you - the first to hopefuly impregnate you. You were his, and he was only a good captain for sharing his priceless angel. A pure act of selflessness from him.

With a final thrust, he erupted himself inside you. Hot, strips of his sticky cum painted your inner walls white. "Take it, sweetheart, let me fill you up." He pushed his cum in your hole all over again and then removed his dick out of your red, swollen cunt. He held your legs up. "I don't want my cum to flow out of you before the job is done."

You thought he would leave after the act, but he didn't, so his affection was real. He cleaned you up with a towel, massaging your sore thighs and almost forcing you to drink enough water since you squirted so much. "Did it feel so good for me, Sweetheart? I never had such a perfect woman before," he whispered against your skin. " Gonna worship you and give you everything you need, okay?"

You nodded and cuddled against his fury body, easily falling asleep after this activity.

[suniloli]

LISTEN TO THE MUSIC

28 Feb 2024

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader 

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Swearing, sexual themes, allusions to SA, descriptions of violence and death, angst

Setting: Alexandria (s5)

Summary: Your time after the fall of the prison has your mind all over the place. Upon arriving at Alexandria, you discover something that you think will help bring your mind to peace. Unfortunately, you're becoming more detached from those who love you, including Daryl. He sees you venture off into the darkness one night and decides to follow.

Author Note: This took me AGES to finish…..I’ve just had so much on. Faith No More’s ‘Easy’ inspired a certain scene that this one's based on. Tried not to make it cringe, mate :)

SIDE NOTE: I’ve written it so the song matches up to that part of the story if you want to listen to it while it plays out.

It had been two months, and you still hadn't gotten comfortable in the walls of your new home. It was so incredibly odd. This town, Alexandria, was just so out of the ordinary. It was still hard to fathom that a place of such domesticity, which was so reflective of the world before, existed utterly untouched. You were in it, living there, and acting as if suburban-ty was all that ever was. 

Well, you weren't acting in the usual sense. You knew what was out there. You'd never forget. 

And the rest of your family wouldn’t forget either. They just appeared to be better at adjusting to this new life than you were. 

The issue was that you felt uneasy. The walls' protection was alluring, but you always felt something was off. It was an intangible feeling you couldn't quite grasp or explain. It was akin to being in the Twilight Zone. Alexandria was almost blurring the lines between this new reality and your past one — it made you doubt who you once were, what you did, and whether you actually led the life you did before. It also made you doubt who you were now, and whether outside the walls was real or just a figment of your imagination.

You couldn't relax. You couldn't let go and appreciate the break from chaos and stress. That's why you took as many opportunities as possible to get out and breathe in the fresh air. To remind yourself that you weren't going crazy.

You hoped that this would pass. You also hoped you were just being stupid and that your paranoia wasn't based on truth. But you just couldn't let go of that nagging feeling telling you not to get too comfortable. 

Ever since your escape from the prison, it was like your mind was on autopilot. Now that living wasn't just survival day to day, all of those memories — memories of escaping alone, of killing both walkers and people, struggling to find food and water. Having to savagely kill men who'd stalked and found you, and tried to do all sorts of things to your mind and body. Going through a depression of having lost everything and all the people you loved. Memories of Terminus. Of seeing people slaughtered right next to you. Of having the knife to your throat because you were next. And somehow, more impactful than the rest: the feeling of reuniting with your family for the first time, only for your soul to be crushed at seeing them all lined up prepared to die like lambs to the slaughter, just as you were going to be. Memories of seeing your comrades Rick and Glenn and your newfound ally Bob there. Your heart racing upon making eye contact with Daryl, but being wholly shattered when you saw pure fear lace your best friend's gaze. You'd never seen him like that before…

Now, because you were inside the walls again, all of it came flooding back. It still haunted you. Being inside reminded you of everything you'd lost and endured. 

However, being in such a well-looked-after settlement surrounded by 'normal' people going about their daily chores and lives also reminded you of other things you'd lost. In particular, something from before when your own life was 'normal.' 

Music. 

No matter where or what you were doing, listening to, singing, and dancing to music was one of your favourite things. It had the power to move you. Some songs truly spoke to your heart. Some ignited within you your stellar ability to dance and feel the beat. Others brought you comfort. Some made you cry. 

In your opinion, music was, and still is, one of art's most vivid and beautiful expressions. It has such an ability to speak to the soul, to inspire it, and let it be free. 

So, as with most things people love, it was one of the things you most yearned for. 

Selfishly, that was one of the few reasons you suggested to Deanna that your job be to go on runs. Rick vouched for you, saying you were one of your family's strongest, more capable fighters. He stated that you were smart, resourceful, etcetera, etcetera, which was true, but he didn't know you had your motives either. 

Given your recent struggle to sleep at night and the aloofness accompanying your every action within the walls, you thought giving yourself a specific task would help calm your mind and allow you to think coherently. 

You liked the thought of having a little private project to yourself. Although sleep constantly refused to take you into its arms, just the mere prospect of listening to and enjoying music again was enough to continue this trend of insomnia (though probably not for the best) and perhaps provide you with the means to focus and get all of your emotions and thoughts straight. 

So, you had developed a little routine come nightfall. Slowly, over the past few weeks, you accumulated the parts and accessories needed to listen to a beaten-up walkman you found. You made it your mission on every run you went on to find wire, fitted screws, and anything which would aid you in repairing it, as well as to devise some working earbuds. And on top of that, you were working on collecting tapes and swapping and changing them until you had a playlist you could enjoy. Things were much easier with your iPod back in the day, but you hadn't gotten your hands on anything like that. Plus, the internet didn't exist anymore, so even if you wanted to add and change songs, you couldn't. Bummer. 

Although it may have been harder to collate music, the very act of holding the tapes and taking apart and assembling the little black brick made you more appreciative of the art form. Additionally, the anticipation of your hard work eventually paying off kept you going when you couldn't sleep. It was the thought that you could experience some semblance of peace as melodies and tunes washed over your brain, coaxing it into a state of tranquillity that had evaded you ever since you were on the road, which gave you a new energy. 

Every action performed at your bedroom workbench felt like a labour of love, where you were reminded of the power of music to weave its way into the very fabric of your memories and remind you of your true self. It was the perfect distraction from all the other distractions plaguing you.

You just needed to accept that perhaps Alexandria was both the bane and revival of your existence. 

It was 3 am, according to the working clock in your room. Focusing back on the task, you gently opened the walkman and placed your tiny screwdriver on the table. Placing a tape in the cassette player, you closed it back up and carefully grasped your homemade earbuds. Plugging them into the audio jack, you pressed the play button. 

Immediately, the gears inside the cassette started shifting, and finally, the tape didn't tangle. A soft whirring sounded, and the small noises of a drum rift softly erupted from the sound output. 

With shaking fingers, you grasped an earbud and lifted it to your ear. Sure enough, the opening riff to a rock song was playing. 

You let escape a giggle of disbelief. Slowly but surely, it turned to loud, almost manic laughter. 

No way. No fucking way. 

Daryl was worried about you. Really worried about you. 

He'd been able to reconnect with his family since they all found each other again after the prison. Although he'd also technically reunited with you at Terminus, he couldn't reconnect with you. 

Daryl had many conversations with Carol about it. At least Rick's craziness revolved around his concern for his family's safety and his passion to keep you together. You, on the other hand, were somehow changed differently. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but you were slowly slipping away from everyone. 

You were slipping away from him. 

Carol suggested that it was tough on you, whatever had happened while you were out there alone. Easy for her to say. She was adjusting just fine with her innocent neighbour costume and whatnot, which he thought was ridiculous. However, she had made several observant points: there were scars on your body at Terminus that weren’t there at the prison. You were quiet, quite different from the sassy, talkative woman he knew and grew incredibly fond of. 

Of course, Daryl had noticed those things. It was just reassuring to know that it wasn't only him who noticed. It was also comforting to understand that you weren’t just shutting him out, either. Although it still stung. It stung a lot. 

After all, you two had gotten so close that he felt comfortable enough to show you his own scars, physical and emotional, and you your own — it was like the both of you formed an unbreakable bond: one of complete trust and companionship. 

And now, he could tell you were struggling more than even he was, but your pride didn’t allow you to express that outwardly. 

But Daryl knew. He could see it in your eyes, in your walk. Ever since Terminus, you refused to really talk with him. You refused to allow yourself to be vulnerable and shouldered it all on your own, letting it accumulate and weigh you down. 

Damn stubborn woman. 

You two were similar in many ways — Daryl also tended to be sceptical, and refused to let others bear his pain. But you were letting it affect every aspect of your life, even if you outwardly presented as composed and stoic to the average person. 

But again, Daryl knew you. He knew you inside and out. And you knew him. You both shared something unexplainable that he could only put down to one thing, from his end at least. 

Love. 

When the prison fell, Daryl tried to find you, but you were gone without a trace. He spent his time with Beth in depressive thoughts of not only his home and family perishing, but the fact that he might have left you to die underneath the rubble — that you died because of him.

But then Beth brought him out of it because a little part of her reminded him of you — your optimism and strength to push past any obstacle that stood in your way. 

It was her death that almost made him lose complete hope in humanity. 

But, that fateful day, when the people at Terminus revealed you as one of the other poor victims of their cannibalistic desires, he was filled with a renewed sense of urgency. He couldn’t let you die again. He was scared shitless. 

It was kneeling at the trough, and seeing you battered and scarred, that he realised he loved you. He was in love with you. Seeing your pleading eyes connect with his, he realised then that he’d been in love with you for a long time. 

So, when you all managed to free yourselves from your bindings and escape that wretched train station, he would never let you go again as long as he lived. 

But the moment he saw you brutalise those people there, and saw that crazed look in your eyes, Daryl knew you’d changed. 

That first night of freedom, you remained physically close to him. Daryl didn’t sleep, but you snuggled up to him, finding comfort in his presence. You slept with your arms wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, and surprisingly, he found the courage to lay his head against yours and softly run his hand against your arm. But the next day, and for the months after, you had rejected his touch and everyone else’s. 

At first, Daryl thought he had done something wrong, that you regretted being that physically close to him — that he’d crossed some boundary in your relationship. But he was perceptive and soon realised that your distance wasn’t about him. It was about something deeper that had changed within you during your time alone in the wilderness. 

Daryl made sure to keep an eye out for you. Although you didn’t say much about how you were feeling, you still always acknowledged him, telling him you were okay. 

He hated seeing you like this — constantly plagued by whatever haunted you. If only you’d open up to him, you’d both realise that you were dealing with similar things. 

So, instead of invading your space, Daryl tried to lift you in other ways, such as by trying to make you laugh more often or gifting you with something thoughtful, like the dainty silver arrow necklace he gave to you when you were both on watch a couple of weeks ago.

Occasionally, he’d see glimpses of the real you: you'd gift him your beautiful laughter or that gorgeous smile he constantly dreamt about, in return. He cherished it when you had dangled the necklace he gave you in your palm, and you’d held his hand with your other, squeezing it gently. 

Sometimes, he wished he could hear you more like he used to. He remembered your singing. Although Daryl made out it was annoying when you used to randomly burst into passionate song, and grab him by the arm to get him to reciprocate (in which he half-scowled in return), he thought you were so incredibly charming. Sometimes, Daryl thought you might’ve even meant some of those lyrics…

Now, though, you were mainly preoccupied, never honestly in the present. And considering that Daryl had seen your light on at night for the past week from his porch across the street, he knew it was perhaps time to approach you. 

As Daryl was outside letting the nicotine from his cigarette fill his lungs, he watched as your silhouette moved from behind your illuminated window curtain to out of view. 

Before he could snuff his cigarette out and walk over, he was ripped from his thoughts as, unusually, the yellow hue of your window suddenly turned dark. Maybe ya were finally tired. 

He squinted his eyes as he faintly heard the screen door to your shared house flip open and close again, a flurry of movement following behind. It was you, and you seemed…huh…there was a sharpness to your movements. You got to the bottom of the stairs, went to the sidewalk, and down the road into the dark. 

Daryl waited for a few minutes before he decided to follow. 

Daryl's footsteps were quiet along the pavement. The only thing that illuminated his path was the luminosity of the moonlight, and even then, it was difficult to see. But, ever the skilled hunter, his eyes adjusted quickly, and soon enough, he found you sitting by the edge of the lake in the middle of the settlement. 

Approaching slowly from behind, he took louder steps, attempting to alert you of his presence. Surprised you hadn't heard him, Daryl went to call your name but paused just short — he could hear some soft mumbling. 

Usually, he would have left anyone in your situation alone, but seeing you like this broke Daryl's heart. Kneeling down next to you, he gently touched your shoulder. 

"Woah!!" you startled, sharply turning your body to face whoever was there and shuffling away from the threat. Upon realising it was the archer, you sighed a sigh of relief. "Daryl…"

"Ya alrigh’ Y/N?" he started. Still kneeling, he adjusted his stance. Observing you, Daryl registered that you had earphones plugged into your ears and a goddamn walkman in your lap. “S’all this?” he questioned, gesturing towards your person. 

You closed your eyes for a couple of seconds, savouring the final riff of the song being played. A small smile tugged at your lips as you gently pulled out the earbuds and hung them from your ears. Contemplating Daryl’s questions, you were reluctant to answer both. 

“What are you doing here?” You deflected. 

“Comin’ ta check on ya’. I want ta know what’s goin’ on with ya’. Ya refuse ta talk ta me. Ever since…” he broke off with a throat clearing. “I can tell somethin’s up.”

“Trust me, it’s nothing —  ”

“Well it most definitely don’ seem like nothin’” he gruffed. This was going to be hard. And as established, you were a hard one to crack. Like him, he supposed. 

Daryl sat down, legs outstretched in front of him. You sighed deeply, lost in thought. He could see you deliberating something in your mind, so he waited for you to speak. 

“Here.” You suddenly declared, crawling towards him and planting yourself on the ground, leaving little space between you. You held the walkman out to him so he could see it better. Daryl was now staring at you intently. You glanced from your outstretched hand to his face. You continued, the soft rumblings of bass emitting from the next song playing through the earbuds. 

“I, uh…haven’t been sleeping, so I’ve been working on this. Fixing it up, collecting tapes. Making it mine…”

You turned the device over in your hand and looked down again to observe it. You could feel Daryl’s stare burning into the side of your head. 

“I get it, ya know. I can’t sleep neither. Can’t really relax in ‘ere.”

You hummed in agreement. Shaking your head slightly, you looked up towards the lake, observing the small ripples illuminated by the moon. “Music was my life. Is. I was hoping that doing this…bringing it back would occupy my mind,” you vaguely waved your hand around, “I don’t know…make it easier…”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Ya coulda’ told me ya’ were strugglin’. Ya’ have so many people here for ya’...I’m here for ya’…ya’ know that.”

You looked away from the lake and into Daryl's eyes. You could see something alight in them that you weren't sure you wanted to acknowledge just yet. Despite the happiness you'd felt when listening to the Walkman, a lump formed in your throat, and once again, that anxiousness you'd experience whenever you even contemplated opening up was brewing. But this was Daryl. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? Was it even that? 

“It’s just too hard to explain…feels like I’m goin’ fucking crazy...” you mumbled. 

Daryl softly placed his hand on your thigh and squeezed almost imperceptibly. Something about his touch burned. 

"Ya' know, I thought I was going crazy too…" Daryl whispered, almost shyly. You couldn't break from his gaze. "Ya were gone for so long...thought I'd never see ya' again." He admitted.

A puff of air escaped your nose, and you looked down at the hand on your thigh. Memories of explosions and debris flying flashed through your mind, reminding you of screaming Daryl’s name until your throat was hoarse. Subconsciously, you fiddled with the arrowhead chain around your neck, recalling how lost you were out there all alone. Without your family. Without your best friend. Without your Daryl. 

“Me too,” your voice broke. With his other hand, Daryl slowly lifted up your chin to face him again, moving his thumb tenderly across your cheek. You could sense the moment he drew his attention to the pink sizeable scar there, thumb and eyes moving to it and trailing across it as if in question. 

“What happened to ya out there?” Daryl whispered, chewing his bottom lip. It took all your strength not to recoil at the question. 

“So many people have died to get to where we are now. And I’m sure everyone here experienced the same shit…I’m just being selfish —”

“Ya ain’t selfish Y/N…anyone can see ya’ ain’t ya’self. I hate seeing ya’ be consumed by whatever's on ya' mind everyday. Please, talk’ ta me…” Daryl was gentle, but was as firm with his words. He continued slowly dragging his thumb across your cheek for a couple of seconds, then seemingly realised what he was doing and pulled away. 

You were conflicted. 

Daryl’s touch left your skin charred. Everything about him made you feel butterflies. But that, intermingling with the anxious beating of your heart was going to give you a heart attack. 

Here Daryl was, insisting you talk to him. He was the closest person you’d ever been to. Here he still was, showing you his affections. 

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself. Daryl’s gaze softened. 

“What fer?”

“For blocking you out…this whole time you’ve been here for me, wanted to be here with me and I’ve given you nothing…” You couldn’t even begin to utter the words. The anger. The shame. “I’ve seen how weary you are of this place. How much you blame yourself for things that have happened. I’m sorry for not being there for you. For not giving you anything, ever.” 

A few seconds passed by Daryl in stunned silence. 

“Y/N….” he whispered. You don’t know who moved first, but now your bodies were touching. “Ya are ma’ everythin’...everythin’ ya’ do, with me and for me... yer’ laugh, yer’ smile, talkin’ ta me…it’s more than I could’ve ever asked for in this life…”

You looked at him. For the first time in months, you really looked at him. It was hard to form words. As you gazed into his piercing blue eyes, yours grew blurry with unshed tears. Daryl's explored yours, trying to decipher the feeling there. 

You'd never been more touched and more loved than in this moment. 

Loved. 

It dawned on you just how much you really loved him.…

The weight of his gaze had you looking down, discreetly wiping your eyes of such emotion with your hand. Grabbing his hand in yours, you managed to find that trust you two had shared so deeply, and allowed yourself to give in to it. 

“It was really rough out there,” you began. Daryl hesitantly squeezed your hand, but once you squeezed back, he intertwined your fingers. The very act spurred you on. “This was a group of men,” you said, a fire in your eyes as you pointed to your cheek with your other hand. “It's not even what they tried to do…it's how after, there was no going back…”

Daryl didn’t utter a word. His very presence was like a beacon of warmth, fuelling the anger in your eyes. Daryl’s anger also heightened. 

“I’ve never…mutilated…anyone like I did then, ever. I didn’t even know I was capable of it.”

You heard a soft grunt from Daryl. 

“Now, I just have a festering anger at anyone who tries anything…it’s like I don’t care anymore. Those people at Terminus…I just wanted them all fucking dead.” You said with a jarring resolution that Daryl could nevertheless understand. 

Daryl recalled the moment he saw you at Terminus. If he was scared shitless, he couldn’t even begin to imagine how you felt with the knife to your throat. But your next utterance interrupted his thoughts of that day. 

“They fucking deserved it, that night in the woods…” you seethed. “But I couldn’t look at myself after. There was so much blood…it was just everywhere. I got some of them in their sleep, slit their throats, some of them woke up to me cutting em’ up…”

There was a far away look in your eyes, as if you were reliving the moments. Daryl saw goosebumps raise on your arms, even though the evening breeze was warm. 

Daryl had an inkling, but he needed to know what they did. He wanted to kill the rest of them himself if they lived. 

“What’d they do ta ya’?” he gritted through his teeth. His grip on your hand tightened. It was now that you broke eye contact. 

“What do you think? They tied me up…touched me, left me by a tree afterwards. I managed to free myself in the night…”

Daryl gripped both of your shoulders firmly. 

“They all dead?” 

You nodded. 

“Good.”

Daryl’s response was terse, but was filled with sad understanding, passion and something else you couldn’t quite place. You were filled with shame. Not only about what they had done to you, but the fact that you were shoving this all on Daryl too. It’s not like he could do anything about it —

“Ya thinkin’ too loud,” Daryl hummed. You turned your head a bit away from him, trying to distance yourself further in hopes to hide your embarrassment. Daryl chewed his lip. “They fuckin’ deserved wha’ was comin’.” 

You inhaled a deep breath. The smell of night time filled your nostrils, with an incredibly subtle undertone of cigarette smoke and leather vest seeping in. Your lungs were filled with familiarity. It was comforting. 

The warmth in your chest being ignited spurred on memories of the prison, when you and Daryl would spend nights close together in the watchtowers, talking about nothing and everything. Usually he’d be smoking a cigarette, wearing his signature vest, and the smell lingered then too. 

You remembered how different you were back then. How innocent. How removed you were from the horrors of brutal killing and maiming. You never had a thirst for blood then, when someone did you wrong. Now you were harder. More cold. It concerned you. 

Daryl’s hands gently rubbing your arms brought you back to him. 

“I know,” you replied curtly. “But that’s not even what keeps me up…it’s like ever since we got here, my mind hasn’t been able to let go of that ‘feral-ness.’ I still think about how I got all that blood on my hands. And I can't get rid of the paranoia that something else bad is gonna happen…” 

Daryl grunted in agreement. “Ya’ shouldn’t be so hard on ya’self. The fact yer’ thinking ‘bout it makes ya’ gud. And I feel paranoid too, bein’ here...but Y/N,” Daryl made you look at him. 

“Nothin’s gon’ happen to ya’. Nothin bad’s gon’ happen as long as I’m with ya’. I won’ let anyone do anythin’ to ya’, alrigh’? Ya’ don’t gotta worry.” 

The way he was looking at you now made a familiar fluttering erupt in your stomach that you hadn’t given yourself the privilege to truly feel. A small smile emerged on your lips. Looking into his eyes now, you noticed they were electrified with emotion. You were sure yours mirrored Daryl’s by the way he was looking at you, an equal mix of intensity and appreciation there. 

Daryl drew his gaze to your eyes, down to your lips, and across to your scarred cheek. He brought his hand up, and cupped that same cheek again, touching it with a graze so gentle, he could've thought his finger and your cheek were one. 

“I meant what I said before,” he whispered. The smile on your face moulded into an expression of shy curiousness as you leaned into his warm touch. “Ya’ are ma’ evry’thing…have been fer a long time.”

Somehow, Daryl’s sincerity was filled with such profound emotion, that hearing him say it was like a punch to the guts. His words winded you, rendering you almost speechless. 

Before you could respond, the music in your earbuds picked up, adding to the ambiance of the moment. As if the universe was attempting to serenade the intimacy between you two, you turned up the volume, and recognised the song immediately. Smiling a big, genuine smile, you slowly stood the both of you up, placed one earbud in your ear, and the other in Daryl’s. 

“Surely you know this one,” you said, a playfully soft glint in your eyes. Daryl could only look on with surprise.

The opening piano riff filled his eardrums. Of course he knew it. You moved to slowly sway with him. 

🎵 I know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain

Girl, I’m leaving you tomorrow

Seems to me girl you know I’ve done all I can

You see I beg stole, and I borrowed 🎵

Daryl could hear you quietly humming along. It was beautiful. You both swayed with each other as the chorus filled your ears, smiles adorning both your faces. Daryl’s hold on your hips tightened as he found more comfort in your movements, slowly caressing the spots there. Your hands tightened around his neck, bringing your faces that bit closer. Mouthing the words, you looked at Daryl. He grew the courage to sing the next verse to you. 

“I wanna’ be high, so high,” he rasped. You looked at him in pure awe and something else he couldn’t pick. “I wanna be free to know the things I do are right —”

“I wanna be free-ee!” You interrupted, “Just me…oh baby…”

As the bridge in the song played, the tension between the two of you reached new heights. Your heart started racing. You could feel Daryl’s pulse also racing underneath your palms. Daryl’s pupils were almost completely dilated. 

As the guitar solo played, Daryl pulled you in close, connecting his lips with yours. Immediately, your mouths melded together as if you’d kissed hundreds of times before. The kiss was so soft, yet so passionate. Your hands moved to hold Daryl’s jaw and the back of his head, and he ran his own hands up your back. 

The sensual tone of the guitar matched that of the smoothness and sultriness between the two of you at that moment. It was as if the alluring quality of the solo gave you both an unwavering confidence about how each other felt. 

As the chorus broke through your ears again, your mouths disconnected, and you both heaved in large breaths. You had never seen larger smiles on the other ever. Daryl gazed at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Pulling his hand from your behind, he slowly dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, and you caressed his jawline. 

You savoured the final melodies of the song. You couldn’t help yourself looking at Daryl’s smirk, leaning in to give him a few more soft pecks there. Chasing you for more as you pulled away, Daryl displayed to you the fondest expression you’d ever seen. 

You let a breathy giggle escape your lips. “You’re more than I ever could’ve asked for too, D.” 

[thepeculiarauthor]

we got another two years prob till link click season 3 so i'm gon talk about everything i love about this series thanks

human trafficking rep. holy shit. a more realistic approach to the mental trauma involved for all parties.

the VAs slapped, regardless of what sub/dub you pick, they all slayed

suicide awareness. so many shows shy away from this when trauma/etc are very real and suicide is often faced as an option. link click takes this and goes "hell no. live. FUXKING LIVE NO MATTER WHAT" and it's 11/10. you're loved. please. stay.

the bonds. not a lot of fiction anymore just shows GENUINE relationships. it's either abusive shit or fluffy shit -- neither are 'good' or realistic. but link click comes along and has functioning adult relationships that Still have issues and problems and arguments and disagreements bUT love is still present in those relationships bc they're healthy

it's also a reminder that genuine love / relationships aren't based on what you can give, etc. (as adults i think we forget this often and we feel we have to deserve a relationship; link click says f this)

a big theme of the story is making mistakes!!!!! so many fictional stories either 1) take the 'aw i messed up again:(' approach or 'my mc can do NOTHING incorrect or wrong ever' and they suck, lol. link click is a great balance of yes, we messed up, but we move forward.

link click also is a solid example of "yeah, sometimes life is shit! you try your best! it doesn't always matter!!!" but not in a "so d/e" way but in a "even so, still try, still love, because knowing you can't control shouldn't instill fear but bravery"

LING IS A POSITIVE FEMALE CHARACTER THAT DOESNT CONSTANTLY HAVE TO SHIT ON MEN TO BE IN THE STORY --

death and grief handled in a realistic way tbh

the occasional laugh and smile and just the humor is pure

the tension and intrigue is the best written and portrayed i've seen and i'll die on this hill sorry

the concept of time travel is popular, but i haven't found anything to tackle the emotional / MORAL consequences like link click has. "SHOULD you change the past? IS IT OK to change the past?" we've all seen "oh no we changed the past we must fix it!!!" but I've never seen "the past, the present, and the future are heartbreaking and gut-wrenching and stunning and precious and beautiful as they are" but HUMAN NATURE remains and our desires continue to be to remove the heartbreak and pain. is that morally wrong or not?

ANYWAY this will prob be part 1 of more but please lmk what you think lol

[hopelessromantic5]

Part 2 of ghost-visit merthur Drabble.

Magic reveal included.

The blonde studied his manservant, as he was in the habit of doing, lately. Merlin was nervous and perhaps even…scared?

What possible reason could Merlin have to fear him?

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Arthur did not need an answer, he already knew that he wouldn’t.

“Maybe-“ Merlin stopped and started again. “It might be easier if I show you.” He was quiet, only illuminated by the light coming into the princes chambers from the corridor.

Arthur honestly didn’t have any idea what was about to happen.

When it was over, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

The first thing Merlin did was cup his palms together, in front of his chest, eyes closed, as if he were praying.

He, all at once, opened his hands and his eyes, revealing a glowing blue butterfly, Arthur focused on it only for a heartbeat, gasping at the sight.

Then he caught Merlin’s own gaze, blue eyes turned golden like the heat of the sun, shining brighter than any fire Arthur had ever seen.

The Prince felt many things. Confusion and shame and anger, at himself, at Merlin, at his father.

But surprisingly, Arthur felt no fear. He didn’t get that sickening drop in his stomach that normally occurred when confronted with magic.

He had the quick thought that maybe it was because the magic was always being used by people who wanted him dead.

Instead of that unbearable chill in the air, Merlin’s magic left Arthur feeling like he’d just been out training in the summer. He felt renewed, recharged.

When Merlin let the butterfly disappear into the room, brightening the space about a foot in either direction of its flapping wings, his eyes faded back to their stormy blue, rainclouds over the ocean.

Arthur was speechless.

A million scenes over the past few years played through his mind’s eye with this new knowledge now secured. Everything seemed to make a little more sense. The prince never being able to find Merlin in times of trouble, his manservant always disappearing and hiding behind trees while bandits were being tripped by roots that weren’t there before, felled by branches falling at the perfect time. Victories being won against foes that Arthur had no recollection of defeating.

Arthur should be dead ten times over, probably. If not for the man who stood before him. If not for magic.

He couldn’t find words for a long time.

Merlin did not rush him.

He just stood silently, waiting for whatever fate he assumed was awaiting him. Arthur could only imagine the worst case scenarios playing through his manservant’s mind and it was enough to make him sick.

Finally after taking a deep breath into his lungs, the prince spoke.

“I understand.”

Merlin blinked his eyes three times, an instinct in Arthur nearly verbalized that he was akin to an owl, he thought better of it.

“You-you what?”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me. I can only assume this is not a fact that you share with many people, let alone…you know, me.” Arthur’s nerves were beginning to catch up to him. He wasn’t used to being so bare and unguarded, and certainly not in front of Merlin.

But another fact he was settling upon him was that Merlin had the upper hand here. He’d possibly always had it, from that very first day. Yet, even when Merlin was his most fed up, his most aggravated with Arthur, even at times when they refused to speak to each other out of pure stubbornness, Merlin never turned on him. Never even used his magic to give Arthur a good smack over the head (that he probably deserved).

Even when Merlin had to watch his own people die on the pyre, he never turned on Arthur.

Not even when he learned what Arthur did that awful day. A quiet Druid camp drowned in the screams of the innocent because he was too much of a coward to stand up to his father, and not enough of a Prince to get his knights to obey his orders of sparing the children. Even though, he failed.

Merlin never lost faith in him. The prince still sees it, even now.

“You’re not…angry?” This voice was small compared to his usual boisterous demeanor.

“I am angry.” Arthur nodded. “But only at our circumstances. If I were not here and you were not there, none of this would be as difficult as it is.”

“You must know,” Merlin whispered. “I’ve only ever used it to help you. To ensure that you and this kingdom were safe.” The prince saw him swallow, one of his many tells. Merlin is nervous. “Arthur, I told you this once before, but back home I was…lost. I had all of this pent up energy and nowhere to put it down, I felt I had no true purpose there. I’ve since learned many things that all led me to one conclusion. I’m supposed to be here, at your side. To make sure you actually survive long enough to ascend the throne-“

Arthur almost interjected to say he didn’t need protecting but clamped his mouth shut because he knew, now, that wasn’t necessarily true, as much as he hated to admit it.

“-but also because…Well,” Merlin cleared his throat, Arthur took a moment to wonder what he was about to say that was causing him to be so antsy. “I do not think I could leave, even if you ordered me to go. I…I think being away from you would probably rip me apart.” He laughed a humorless, pitiful laugh and was looking down at feet. Arthur watched a tear fall from his eyes like the first raindrop and land on the stone floor.

“I could never send you away.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re just as necessary to this kingdom’s survival as I am.”

Merlin audibly gasped, Arthur went on as if he didn’t hear it.

“I want Camelot to be…I don’t know, good, for lack of a better word. I want it to be welcoming and bright and full of life. Not plagued with death and decay and heartache. I do not want even our poorest citizens to have to wonder what they will eat in the winter. I don’t want another person stepping foot into this kingdom and immediately witnessing a beheading, or a pyre being lit. That is not the kind of place I wish to govern. All I can do is my best, but I need you here. I need you with me. I only ever considered that I could truly change the way things are, when,” he took a heavy breath, “when I realized that you actually believed in me. That you, an insubordinate, treasonous, outsider that had absolutely no reason to ever think such things, you actually had faith that I could do it. And since that day, your faith has been what keeps me going. So you can’t-“

Arthur hadn’t dared to watch Merlin while he spilled his messy heart all over the room. The first shining of the sun was rising over the horizon and soon, they would have to face each other in the daylight.

“You can’t leave, okay?”

The prince walked further into his chambers as he spoke, away from the door, lest any of the guards overhear their conversation.

“That may be selfish of me to request, knowing that you are constantly in danger here. But I am also in a position where I can make sure that you never face the hands of my father. I would never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”

A chuckle was heard from where Merlin still stood behind him,

“I do now.” It was emotional and ridiculous but Arthur was relieved. That Merlin was still Merlin.

“Good.” The prince sighed. “We can discuss this more tomorrow. You can tell me everything I’ve, apparently, missed.”

“Absolutely, sire.”

Arthur turned after a few moments of silence and Merlin was still standing there, in the middle of the room.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” The prince couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up his face.

“Um…” The raven boy cleared his throat, again. Looking unsure, with more light in the room, Arthur could see his brows pinched. “No, no. Nothing we can’t discuss tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” At this point Arthur was wondering if either he or the both of them were in immediate danger.

“Well I’m not exactly sure if she would want me to tell y-“

“She?!” Arthur voice, embarrassingly, cracked in the middle of his outraged cry. Merlin looked at him like he had goat horns growing out of his head.

In a much calmer tone, Arthur continued.

“And who is ‘she’?”

Something bloomed on Merlin’s face that had Arthur wary.

“Before we get to that, I have a question for you.”

“For me?”

“Considering this is officially the first day that we’re being honest with each other, someone told me that you have a secret of your own and I’d like to know what it is.”

Arthur, dumbfounded and feeling somewhat ambushed, could not think of anything to say other than,

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Like an idiot.

“Must you be so difficult? What is it you’re not telling me? How do you even have time in the day to keep secrets? I know where you are every minute.”

“Technically, I already told you.”

Arthur decided he would much rather brood out the window, staring at the sunset than watch Merlin flinch away from him in disgust.

“When?” The man honestly had no idea.

The prince rolled his eyes, pushing away a stupid smile.

“Just now, you idiot.”

“Did I miss part of the conversation? When did you-“ at the sound of Merlin cutting himself short, Arthur’s neck swiveled. He watched the pieces come together and realization finally hit.

He looked confused.

“I’m confused,” Of course. “You can’t possibly mean-“

“When I said your faith keeps me going, I meant it, Merlin.” There he was, standing in the morning rays, breathtaking as ever, the reason Camelot remains standing. Looking at Arthur as if he were speaking a different language.

“I rise out of that bed every morning simply because I know you will be there.”

This was not the prince and his manservant, this was just Merlin and Arthur. Two boys that met under unfortunate and unfair circumstances.

“And in those gut wrenching moments when I can’t find you, the fear feels as if it might kill me. If anything ever happened-“ Arthur turned his head away and swallowed a sob that threatened to ricochet through him at the mere thought.

“I would probably burn the entire world to the ground.” He whispered. More as a thought to himself, a thought he had never let come to pass.

It was silent for a few heartbeats. Merlin broke it.

“There is a word for that.”

Arthur hung his head at that. Defeat.

He’d finally been bested.

It finally caught him. He’d been evading it for years before Merlin came along, always sidestepping its ever-growing reach.

“Yes, there is.” He admitted. The morning was surreal and glowing, everything had a halo of rainbows. Arthur was running on nothing but adrenaline and at his confession, all of the energy completely drained out of him.

“Though,” Merlin took a step in his direction, and then another. “I shouldn’t. Against my better judgment…I love you, too.”

Arthur had been branded in that moment. As if Merlin had touched his bare skin with a red-hot poker. The words echoed through his emptying mind and bounced off the walls of his chambers.

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur could not catch them before the words fell out of his face.

He was met with chuckling.

Had he said something funny?

“You don’t believe me? The entire bloody kingdom can see it and you, stubborn arse, refuse to believe it, of course.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you I love you if I didn’t mean it?”

“To make me feel better?” Arthur offered.

“As much as I would hate to hurt your feelings, I would never lie to you about that.”

Arthur suddenly had a thought.

“If that’s the case then who’s the woman?”

“What woman?”

“Earlier you said you weren’t sure if ‘she’ wanted you to tell me. Who’s she? And what did she tell you?”

“Oh.” Merlin fell silent.

And simultaneously, the room went dark.

Arthur’s first thought was that he blacked out. But no. He was still standing in place, he could hear the bustle of the castle beginning to rise for the day.

Someone had merely closed the curtains, blocking out the sun completely.

“Merlin? Did you do that?” Instinctively, his hand when to the hilt of his sword.

“No.” Followed immediately by, “Take my hands.”

“What?”

“I’m going to show you something. Take my hands.”

Arthur could only ever trust Merlin. With everything. His heart, his life, his kingdom.

His manservant’s eyes began to glow the second their hands touched.

It took the prince by surprise by he didn’t pull away. It seemed to take Merlin somewhat by surprise, also. His hands were buzzing, humming with power, Arthur fingers became numb from it after seconds.

Over the ringing in his ears the prince heard Merlin mumble,

“She’s here.”

The buzzing of his skin ceased, his eyes remained golden, blinking and unseeing.

“Who’s here?”

“Turn around and see for yourself.”

Arthur’s brows pinched in confusion, the heavy door at the entrance to his chambers had not been opened. They would’ve heard it.

He turned, dropping Merlin’s hands in the process, shocked beyond words to actually see a figure standing there.

Pale and beautiful. And sad.

He knew her upon sight.

Not because he had any memory of her face to call upon, no portraits were ever painted of her, but he knew, the way every child knows their mother.

He was stuck in place, memorizing every detail that he could to take with him later. To cherish.

“Arthur, my boy.” She spoke softly, only interrupted by her own crying.

Rather than trying to speak again, she crossed the distance between them and engulfed him in a hug.

The hug Arthur thought he would never have. The warmth of which, he’d gone an entire childhood without.

There truly was nothing more healing than being surrounded by a person who loves you, unconditionally.

“H-how did- why-?” Arthur cut each thought short because they did not seem important enough.

“I’m so sorry, mother.” He whispered into his mothers shoulder, silently letting wells of tears flow. “You should never have met such an awful fate because of me.”

“Hush now, none of that.” The Queen placed her hands on either side of Arthur’s face, holding him up. “I have been here with you, all this time, Arthur. That is all I ever wanted; To be with you. That is the only regret I carry regarding your birth, I would do it all again, if it meant you got the chance to live.”

“You’ve been…here? In the castle?”

She nodded.

“Seeing but never seen.” Arthur was both elated and heartbroken at seeing his mother this way. “That was the rule. Though, I think with your friend over there, anything is possible.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to think he’s more powerful than he lets on.” The absurdity of this conversation was not lost on him. If anyone had told him five hours ago that this would be his new normal, he’d probably have them thrown in the stocks.

His mother laughed and it was a beautiful sound, like the the high chiming of the wind charms made by a woman in the lower town, citizens hang them to hear them sing when the Earth is speaking through the breeze.

“I think you underestimate him quite a bit, your highness.” She shook her head at him, as every other mother had that Arthur always looked upon and wondered. “Merlin is magic. He is the power of the earth made human. And his loyalty is to you. You are a very fortunate king, indeed.”

“Not King yet, mother.”

She sobered immediately from her playfulness.

Arthur did not have to guess why.

“Do not listen to your father, Arthur. It may go against all you’ve been taught but he is not always right. In fact, he is almost always wrong. Especially in terms of political affairs, but always with you. What he says to you, of you, is what he thinks of himself. He is angry because he is getting old and he cannot control time. He has taken his life’s hardships out on you and you never deserved that, Arthur. You are a great man and you will make a fantastic King.”

As the last words fell, she began to fade, slowly. But her skin was turning more translucent with every second. Arthur mourned all over again.

“Our time has run out, my boy, even our Merlin can only hold the connection so long. But I will always be here, should you need me.”

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you, too, Arthur.” Faint, but Arthur heard it.

Then, she was gone.

And now Arthur had to pick up the eight year old version of himself that was currently balled up in the center of his chest, and put him back where he goes. In a dark dusty corner of his mind.

It was quiet for a few moments.

The prince turned to find Merlin sat in the floor, the same spot he had been standing, on the other side of the room.

The manservant rose shakily.

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah, it was.” Arthur sighed, long and exhausted.

“Merlin, you are going to go tell my father that I have been unwell since supper last night. Then you will come back here.” Arthur began to unclad himself of belts and tunics.

“Tomorrow, we talk. Today, We are taking a well-deserved nap.”

“You’re inviting me to…take a nap with you.” The blonde could hear the smile creeping into Merlin’s voice as he spoke but decided he was too tired to scold him.

“Yes, Merlin. Or you’re welcome to go sleep in Gaius’ chambers with him banging beakers and books around all day. Be my guest.”

“I’ll be back in a flash, sire.”

Arthur turned just in time to see Merlin wink at him before leaving.

So, this was the new normal.

Arthur liked it.

[diggykit-kat]

Adam x Reader

Prompt: Reader is a human (witch) while Adam is in heaven, finds out about the reader because heaven is struggling we’re to place them once they die (Reader doesn’t believe in heaven or hell but is a pure saint)

Adam is intrigued by the unique situation of the young enchantress and the Seraphims’ dilemma, making it his mission to either make them scared to go to hell or straight up bully them into marrying him. (so they automatically have to go to heaven, like a green card………I'm sorry for that.)

You playfully counters Adam’s attempts to instill fear of hell by showcasing your witchy skills. They light incense, explaining how it’s a calming ritual that transcends the boundaries of heaven and hell.

Intrigued by the crystals, Adam finds solace in their mystical energies. You introduce him to the concept of using crystals for protection and positive energy, creating a bridge between celestial purity and earthly practices.

You sometimes collect Adam's dead feathers, putting them in a little jar or making them into an old pen.

Adam, seeking solace from the responsibilities of heaven, occasionally sneaks into your house. You welcomes him, creating a haven where both heavenly and earthly energies coalesce.

“What's up bitch, Can I stay the night?”

“You're drunk Adam, you flew through my window and broke it, cutting me in the process.”

“That's a yes right?”

*Long ass sigh*

“You're so sexy for that.”

 with you, you share stories, experiences, and beliefs, forging a deep connection that defies the constraints of heaven and earth.

Adam will full-on change into your fucking clothes because he doesn't have shit, wearing grey sweatpants and a musty white t-shirt (never washes it), scruffy ah chin, and messy ah hair.

To him, he living the life, to you he is a nasty perverted roommate who won't stop using your bra/underwear as a helmet.

He plays heavy music at 3 am. When you introduced him to KISS and Korn he felt like it was meant for him. I bet you his favorite song was ‘Good God’

However, as time goes on the angels get suspicious about it but Adam can't give a flying fuck, ‘there would have been nothing if it weren't for his nuts’ which shuts people up very quickly.

So 9/10 asshole, 7.9/10 roommate, and 20/10 perverted friend.