#Angie writes

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

“I’m so lonely” - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: you finally confess to Eddie how lonely you’ve been feeling. Emotional hurt/comfort

A/N: my first posted ST fic! I’m so nervous. I hope people enjoy this, it may or may not have been heavily inspired by my own feelings of loneliness. If only I had an Eddie lol. Please reblog or comment if you enjoy my work! My requests are open, my rules can be found in my navigation post which is linked in my bio >3

Warnings: discussions of loneliness. Reader sits in Eddie’s lap but no mention is made of size or appearance of the reader. 'Princess' is used as a term of endearment but the reader is gender neutral. No use of Y/N. Not proofread sorry

Word Count: 1.3k

Eddie Munson was the best boyfriend on the planet. You were certain that no one could hold a candle to your Eddie. 

He told you he loved you a hundred times a day - quite literally, he always counted. He’d gaze at you like you’d hung the moon, even when he was meant to be focused on the movie showing in the cinema or the road in front of him as he drove his van. He’d make sure you drank enough water every single day. He’d tie up your shoelaces if they came undone in the street. He was perceptive enough to realise whenever something was wrong, and he’d listen while you vented, before attempting to kiss the hurt away. Eddie was everything to you. But that was part of the problem. 

Eddie wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was your best friend. Which sounds cute. Yet he was your best friend because he was your only friend. Sure, you had fun with Robin and Steve, and occasionally you and Eddie would invite Max and Lucas over to his trailer for a movie night. Although you loved your family, it was a small one. 

In essence, you often felt that the only person you made a difference to in life was Eddie. That the only person who’d notice your absence was Eddie. Sometimes you’d berate yourself for feeling this way - ‘why isn’t that enough?’ - but it simply wasn’t. 

Eddie made you feel loved, constantly. He made you feel seen, he made you feel heard, he made you feel beautiful. 

But whenever he was gone, the loneliness would gnaw away inside you, consuming your mind. A sense of isolation from those around you grew. You could be sitting next to someone on the sofa but they might as well have been a million miles away. The nights you didn’t spend with Eddie, you’d cry and cry until you fell into an exhausted stupor and finally drifted off to sleep. 

Loneliness had even begun to creep into your moments with Eddie. Sometimes you’d drift off into your own little world, especially when he’d mention something he’d done with his own friends, which served as a painful reminder that you didn’t really have any of your own. 

He’d noticed lately that your face seemed to pinch into a frown more often. He tried to convince himself that your sorrowful expressions weren’t because of him, but you had been pulling away lately, skipping plans and coming up with bullshit excuses. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Eddie murmurs as he plops down on the bed next to you. You silently curse whichever member of your family had let him in the house. Because Eddie is right, you have been avoiding him. 

“No I haven’t,” you mumble back, studiously avoiding eye contact. 

“C’mon, don’t lie to me. Please.” If you hear the quiver in his plea, you don’t acknowledge it. 

“Am not.” Eddie huffs at your second lie, dropping off the bed and coming to kneel at your feet. The way his big soft eyes gaze up at you reminds you of the labrador you had as a kid and the way it would beg for treats. Eddie, on the other hand, was begging for something more serious. 

“I love you.” Your voice breaks slightly and you sigh deeply, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. You squeeze them shut, willing them away, but you can feel Eddie’s eyes glued to your face and the tears can’t help but fall. They betray you, as if your poor attempts at lying hadn’t already. 

“I love you too baby.” He knows better than to press you. Shuffling in closer, Eddie places his hands in your lap, letting you fiddle with his rings. You lean forward to press your forehead to his as you sniffle, basking in the scent of his shampoo as his curls draw a curtain around your face. You try to speak but choke on your sobs, squeezing his hands. 

He shifts back up onto the bed next to you, and pulls you into his lap so your chest is touching his. You have no idea how long you spend sitting in his embrace, willing yourself to speak. 

“I just…” Your voice cracks. Silence. He waits. You swallow. 

“I feel like a burden to you sometimes. You’re my only person.” Eddie’s brow furrows. 

“What do you mean sweetheart?” His soft caress on your face is soothing, and encourages you to continue. 

“I know I have family and sometimes we look after the kids and see Robin and Steve, but…” Deep breath. “You’re… you’re the only person who I really have. I feel like you’re the only person who loves me. The only person who’d miss me if I wasn’t here.” 

Tears roll down your cheeks but you make no move to stop them this time. Eddie does the job instead, his thumb gently wiping the moisture away, repeating the action as more tears fall. 

“And I love you so much, it should be enough that the only person I’m important to is you. I don’t know why that isn’t enough, but it isn’t. You make me feel so loved, Eddie. More loved than I’ve ever felt. But I feel so fucking lonely.” At your final admission, your throat closes and you can’t carry on speaking as sobs rack your body. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay my love.” Eddie rocks you back and forth slightly in an attempt to calm you as you sob into his shoulder. You both stay in the same position for a while, Eddie as patient as he always is with you, waiting until you exhausted yourself with your sobs before speaking again. 

“Will you promise me something?” Nodding, you pull away to face him. His thumb wipes the tear tracks on your cheeks with such a gentleness you find yourself wanting to cry again, although this time for a happier reason. 

“Will you promise to tell me when you feel like this? I know I can’t make it all go away but you don’t need to bottle this shit up, princess. You don’t have to fight it on your own.” You crash into his chest and squeeze him tight, prompting him to chuckle into your hair as he draws his arms back around you. 

“I promise,” you mumble into his torso. “I love you, teddy bear.” He flushes and presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“Do you want to talk about it more?” You ponder his question for a few quiet moments, but you’re physically and mentally exhausted from the sobs that had racked your body. 

“I’m too tired Eds, but maybe tomorrow? If you’re really sure you want to listen.” 

“Of course I want to listen. You’re my girl, and that means you never have to deal with anything on your own. I’m right here, sweetheart. Always.” 

Eddie sticks to his word in the morning. Not that you ever doubted he would. 

You guess that Eddie has at least told the others that you need some TLC in the following few days when Will calls just to remind you he loves you, with a sincerity that no one could mistake; when Mike concedes that you’re pretty cool, followed by the awkwardest shoulder punch known to man; when Nancy and Robin rope you into their weekly movie nights - you’d never confess to them that the films they chose were far too highbrow for your taste. 

You don’t think it’s a coincidence either when Lucas invites you on his and Max’s upcoming pinecone collecting adventure in the woods next to Hawkins. You’re absolutely certain it’s not a coincidence when Steve offers to teach you how to drive in his precious BMW, knowing that he’d never willingly let anyone else behind the wheel. 

While Eddie would absolutely claim it’s a coincidence if you called him out, it’s entirely intentional on his part that he now tells you I love you a hundred-and-one times a day.

Please help a writer out and reblog if you enjoyed my work! 💗

[anamazingangie]

Ménage | Rhaenyra x Aegon x Aemond

🕯️ Rated E 🕯️4.2k words 🕯️ Complete 🕯️ by AmazingAngie🕯️

Tags: Historical AU, Sibling Incest, Manipulation, Underage Kissing, First Kiss, First Times, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Come Eating, Cunnilingus, Dom!Rhaenyra, Coming of Age, Consent Issues, Rhaenyra-Centric, Threesome - F/M/M

Warning: sex between minors [fifteen and seventeen when it begins]. Summary:

Rhaenyra despised her siblings, a pair of twin boys two year her junior - at least until she realized they would do things for her. Anything for her. The realm of such things changed as they matured, and in time Rhaenyra's hormones left her feeling rather fond of the pair she had previously merely tolerated. His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. She wanted to touch. She wanted to taste. She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” or: rhaenyra is either a very good, or very bad sister, depending on who you ask.

One

At first, Rhaenyra had hated her brothers. 

She lacked any and all maternal instincts towards infants, and so she lacked any and all patience for their screams and stench and all other annoyances that came with their mere existence. It was only made worse by the fact there were two of them. Two boys. 

Truly, if looks could kill, they would have been found dead in their cradles just hours after she met them. Nevermind that she herself was only two at the time, she was old enough to hold enough to know her dislikes, old enough to hold a grudge and certainly old enough to hate them on first impression alone.

And first impressions mattered a great deal.

And so, her feelings towards them did not change, not for years. 

.

By the age of seven, Rhaenyra had earned the title of Realm’s Delight. She was known on the small island of Dragonstone and among their people for her beauty, boisterous spirit, and impeccable—slightly frightening—skills on horseback. 

And it wasn’t just the people who were awed by the princess—but rather her brother’s, too. The pair had been five then, old enough to care what other people thought of them.

Old enough to know their sister did not care for them. 

Old enough that they wanted her too.

And Rhaenyra…she was old enough to see this.

Smart enough to use this for her benefit. 

And really really, it was a kindness when she gave them such opportunities to improve her opinion of them.

And so, she would have them fetch her lemonade or tea or servants. 

She would have them steal cakes and pastries from the kitchens on her behalf. 

Sometimes she would tell the groom she wanted to brush down Syrax and that they were excused.

It wasn’t a lie, and she would brush down Syrax. But the other tasks that were expected to go along with this—such as beating dust from the saddle blanket, conditioning the leather of her reins, and polishing bits—were ones she’d give to her brothers.

And they would fight for the tasks. Competitive over the mere opportunity to impress her. 

She liked that. 

She took advantage of it.

But who could blame her, when they liked it too?

.

Fondness for them grew very slowly. She still treated them more like her servants than her siblings, truly, but by the time she was ten she could acknowledge she would be sad if something happened to them. 

When they were ten, they were mourning the fact they would have to leave Dragonstone to attend the Crownlands College that all Targaryen men claimed as their alumni, at least since its founding in the 300s. After all, their family—then ‘the crown’ for all of Westeros—had founded the institution. 

She was jealous that they were getting a proper schooling, simply because they were boys. Why shouldn’t she have such an opportunity? She was much smarter. Er, at least smarter than Aegon. Aemond was rather annoying bookish, she knew that from their shared lessons. He could beat her at sums despite her being years older.

It was true her lessons from a septa and maester’s who taught her just as much as the private college would, if not more, it didn’t seem fair. 

And on top of that, though she didn’t admit to them—or to herself, really—that she might miss them too.

.

They had only been gone for three moons when word came—Aemond had been injured rather horribly in a fight. He and his brother were being returned to Dragonstone by the fastest ship their father’s coin could buy, to be attended by the maester’s their own keep had in residence.

Even then, it wasn’t enough to save the eye.

They worried infection would spread and he might lose all his sight. If not his life from fever that could poison his blood. 

Rhaenyra didn’t cry. She didn’t. But her voice might have wavered when she spoke to Aemond after hearing this—unwilling to let the horrors of what had happened to him change her treatment of him.

On the matter of his potential blindness, all she had to say was, “Just think—you have been blessed to see a face as pretty as mine for a decade—that is more beauty than most men get to see in their lifetime.”  

His face was bandaged, and the sliver of eye she could see was cloudy from the high dose of the milk of poppy he was being given for the pain. But he still managed a tiny smile. Tiny for him, even, which was impressive given how he tended to hide them. So different from Aegon, whose face was often dressed in  a wide grin.

“Isn’t it all the more tragic, if i’ve seen such beauty and now have to go without?” He said, his voice sounding small and dry and not like him at all. She wanted to cover his lips with her palm, tell him not to talk until he sounded as he should again. Until he sounded strong. 

“I suppose, then, you must fight—insist to your body and self that you require sight. Perhaps it will permit you to keep it.” She told him. 

“I’m not as stubborn as you, sister, I’m not sure I can.” He admitted.

She huffed, “Consider it a command then—and I know you wish not to disappoint me.” 

He swallowed, and his eyelid fluttered shut. She wondered if she even heard her, but then he nodded slightly and said, “Okay.” 

.

His recovery was surprisingly swift, and infection never came. 

Aegon said it was because Rhaenyra visited so often she scared it away. That earned him a glare. 

“I’m the scary one? Your delusions do you no justice, brother, clearly you forget your twin is a bloodied cyclops!” She screeched. 

“See!” He had claimed, nearly victorious, “Now you shriek like a banshee!” 

“Banshees herald the dead, brother, if I sound like one, perhaps you should be concerned for yourself.” She said, primly. 

He paled and scurried from the room. 

Rhaenyra thought if Aegon was the one who had been injured, she would not have been so attentive. 

He was certainly the most objectionable of her siblings, at least, in all but looks. He had a sweet boyish face that promised to turn into something handsome. Aemond’s features, however, were longer and his expression rather solemn. They were very different—and no matter what she told herself, she would be unable to choose between them if forced to. 

.

When her courses came, they came to her. 

They had questions. They had badgered a poor serving girl into admitting Rhaenyra was bed bound for her monthlies. 

Of course, they had come running to ask Rhaenyra what monthlies were. The end result was their expressions—a mixture of horror and intrigue. 

“You’re bleeding?” Aemond said, rather stunned. “Does it hurt?” He wondered.

She shifted her hips and nodded, “Mhm, but not…not like a wound, rather a great deal of pressure in my abdomen. 

“Does it bleed from there?” Aegon wondered, with a vague gesture to her stomach and a far off expression on his face. 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, “My navel is not a facet you imbecile, no, it’s—” she flushed, looking down at her lap but carrying on, “It’s between my legs.” She admitted.

Their eyes widened. “Can we see?” Aegon asked.

Rhaenyra sputtered, finding herself at a loss for words.

She settled on a classic response to Aegon’s questions: throwing a book at him. 

.

She had always been rather tactile with her brother’s, in a way she wasn’t—and wasn’t permitted to be—with others. She hadn’t thought much of it, they were siblings, and in a way they were her…well, it would be bad form to call them her serfs for she did not own them, but as their older sister she felt rather entitled to them in every way, and they had little protest to this. 

So they touched. 

She did not ask before grabbing their arm, or sitting next to them, close enough that they knew the feeling of the other’s thigh against their own. She’d crawled into bed with them on stormy nights, tackled them to the ground during games of tag, and shoved them off the cliffs on warm summer days when they were too fearful to dive from them without help. 

It had never meant anything at all. It was just the way of things, the way she treated them.

It didn’t change as they grew older.

Maybe it should have.

.

Aegon was, in her opinion, being an insufferable little jit. He refused to mount his mare, Sunfyre, even though they had agreed over breakfast to ride at this hour.

“I can’t.” He moaned, shifting awkwardly with his hands awkwardly at his crotch. 

Her eyes narrowed.

“Why can’t you?” She asked.

He flushed, before admitting he was hard and when that was hard it was like his whole body was stiff. 

“I don’t believe you.” She said, and then, “You’ll have to show me it.” 

His cheeks were flaming but he obeyed, unlacing his breeches and freeing the tunic that was cut long enough to cover his loins. Sure enough, the dangly bit she’d seen between her brother’s legs in childhood—when they were young enough it was not inappropriate, mind you—had managed to grow and harden into something rather…well…she was blushing now.

“Ugh. Put it away.” She said, turning to Syrax and hiding her rosy cheeks. “I shall take her to the meadow while that…you…whatever.” She said, mounting her saddle and leaving before he could respond. 

.

She thought about it. More than she probably should. She was a curious girl, she wanted to know how it worked. 

It was night time, a few days after that incident, and she slipped into her brothers’ rooms, pulled the covers from Aegon’s nearly nude form, and demanded to see it.

His pale chest was flushed along with his cheeks as she watched him stroke his soft length to something a different shape and size entirely. It was like magic. 

He spilled over his hand, making a mess of himself with his own seed. 

She wanted to touch. 

She wanted to taste. 

She did neither, she simply demanded for him to, “Do it again.” 

.

Aemond’s was different from his brother’s—longer, leaner, not unlike the rest of their forms.  Disappointedly, he was too shy to touch himself in front of her, saying he was too embarrassed to stay hard. 

Well. Then she would have to make him get hard. 

He flinched when she stroked the soft skin, wrinkled and deflated as it lay against his thigh instead of in the stiff erection it had formed a moment ago. 

She wanted her brothers to reach their full potential, always. And wasn’t their full length part of that?

He told her no. 

She reminded him that he never told her that. She was his older sister. 

He had to obey her. He liked obeying her. 

“Please?” She finally said, and he nodded.

He grew harder in her hand, and she kept stroking, fascinated by the difference in feel and weight in her palm, it seemed to throb where it had once been so very soft. It was as if the appendage pounded with its need for release, the sound nonexistent but almost like a tune in her head, the beat of which drowned out Aemond’s pleas, his sounds of pleasure, and even the sound of his release.

She did taste it this time, a curious lick on the white goo that had spilled across his penis and her palm. 

She’d always had a sweet tooth, but no matter how this resembled the drizzle on iced buns, it had no such flavor. 

It was salty. 

Gross.

.

A week later, Aegon kissed a maid. Their father’s hand, Ser Otto Hightower, who was also Aegon’s grandfather, caught them in the halls. This led them to all getting lectures on the matters of intimacy outside of marriage. On the matter of it being a dire sin. 

Rhaenyra hardly heard the septas' words on this matter. She was vibrating with…rage? Jealousy? She wasn’t sure. She just knew the reason for this lecture on the horrors that were intimate interludes out of wedlock were prompted by Aegon’s actions. His intimate interlude. One that did not involve her.

She was Aegon’s older sister and yet she did not know what it was to kiss. But still, surely it should be her duty to teach him such a thing.

Surely she should be his first kiss. 

Surely he should suffer for depriving her of this.

.

She ignored him for the rest of the day. He hated being ignored. 

Then, after changing for bed, she slipped into their shared chambers. Both boys were awake, and on this occasion she slunk past Aegon in pursuit of Aemond.

She would have his first kiss.

He would never know it was her first kiss, too. 

And Aegon would simply have to watch.

.

Eventually he begged and whined to the point where his eyes were red and his nose was snotty. So spoiled. Even though he deserved this for his crime—of seeking a girl other than his sister—she thought he’d been punished enough.

When she kissed him that night, his lips were just as soft as Aemond’s, but they were different, too. He was more forward, more confident—that didn’t come from practice, she didn’t think, but rather his enthusiasm and recklessness that his brother lacked. 

And, of course, his lips tasted of his tears. Salty, though in a way far more pleasant than the taste of seed.

Or perhaps the taste was not so different.

Perhaps she just enjoyed the flavor more when it came from sorrow.

And Aegon was so pretty when he cried. 

.

Both of them grew to expect her kisses—not only when they were in close proximity, but as a reward for bringing her something or completing a favor. 

She thought they were like hounds, expecting a bit of jerky as a treat for being good. 

She played with them as if they were hounds, finding great amusement in promising her lips to whichever sat with the best posture or heeled with the greatest obedience. 

Sometimes she insisted on their nudity in this, for how else could she examine the straightness of their spine and set of their shoulders? 

It had nothing to do with her curiosity of the male form. Of course not.

Though, she would admit to being curious over how their forms changed, their height and structure seeming to grow as they slept if not right before her eyes. 

It seemed just as she had come to terms with having siblings—having brothers—she would have to come to terms with her brothers becoming men. 

.

Aegon found the book. Of course he did. 

While Aemond was studious in his lessons, Aegon searched the library for hidden treasure, an indiscretion he’d practiced for years. Despite this, there were still shelves that had not suffered his scrutiny, for the room and its contents were rather vast. 

Of course, some of the cases he had looked over with careful eyes long ago needed to be examined once more, now that he was older. For as a boy he was rather blind—or rather, had a different definition—to what treasure truly was.

It was a small book, but not shamefully so. It was bound in bright red leather, stamped in gold, and though it lacked an author's name on the title page, the title itself was too distracting for any of them to care;

A Collection of Erotic Postures

They were all varying shades of pink as each page was turned, the black and white engravings lacking color but bringing to light so many things. It was fascinating how the forms fit together.

Man and woman. 

Nymph and satyr. 

Woman and woman.

Man and man.

At first they spoke over their examination of the engravings—sharing their shock with each page that passed. But soon their shock was implied by mere gasps, and no words were shared until the end was reached and the book was closed. 

It was inevitable that they would eventually grow curious enough to try one.

With the light now so very bright, how could they not wish to bring some of the acts to life?

.

Rhaenyra pointed to the sketch on page eight, captioned with;

 Cunnilingue.

[stimulation to the cunnus via leikhein]

Aegon obliged. 

She was slightly surprised, but not displeased by any means, to find that she felt little embarrassment or feelings of self consciousness in front of her brother’s—even with her skirts bundled in her lap, her legs spread, and Aegon’s face buried in the seam that led to her core.

She felt other things though. Good things. Things that had her fingers digging into Aegon’s curled locks and desperately trying to stifle gasps because gods be good this was—

When it was over, Aegon trailed his fingers through the mess, “You’re leaking, still, sister.” 

She said nothing. If she was capable of speech at all, it didn’t matter, for she did not have the ability to find words to respond with, not in that moment.

She should have tried, though, for Aegon was rather smug and took charge while her wits were absent—“You should clean her up, Aemond.” He suggested.

She wasn’t worried, he was much too shy to follow his brother's suggestion. 

Or so she thought. 

He wasn’t as enthusiastic as Aegon, not as messy, either. He nuzzled her with his nose first—seeming to inhale her scent before he set about cleaning all that had spilled from her. It was rather ineffective, though, with how she peaked again in the process. 

After that, speech was not the only thing that left her. She also found it rather difficult to walk.

…that did not stop her from demanding this act again the next day.

.

One day, the boys fought over who could have the pleasure of tasting her. 

She rolled her eyes, they were closer to men now yet still acting like children and she was tired of it. She had just come to tolerate them as brother’s but she had no desire to mother them.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m now longer in the mood.” She said, dropping her skirts and crossing her arms. 

Aegon sputtered, whereas Aemond just looked sad. 

“I mean it, too. If you want to taste lips of any sort today your only option is each other’s.”

She hadn’t really expected them to take this as a command—or perhaps they didn’t, they were just waiting for any mention of such a thing so they could have this opportunity. 

Regardless, the outcome was the same, and they wasted little time in joining their lips. 

They didn’t part their lips until after they had rut together and spilled in their breeches. 

Rhaenyra was…not jealous, exactly, but rather awed by the site of them together. For as annoying as her brothers could be, she had always known they were good looking. But this was somehow intensified several times over when they were together like this.

No, if anything, her frustration stemmed from the fact they had so much clothing on, rather than jealousy. 

Perhaps, though, she was a little aroused.

.

That night, she told Aegon to feast on her folds until she came—then to share her flavor with his brother, using the vessel of his tongue. 

They became hard during—of course they did, everything made them hard.

Boys. 

Men. 

Brothers. 

She told them to take care of the unsightly stiffened lengths, and despite the flush that spread across Aemond’s cheeks she knew from the show that morning that he was not opposed. 

But first, she demanded they remove their sleep clothes. She wanted to see it. See the pulse of their cocks when they came. The ropes of white seed across their pale skin, shining in the moonlight.

She wanted to see them lick it up with their greedy tongues, pink muscle lapping at light skin until the essence was gone and only saliva remained. 

They did. 

After—well, her arousal had bloomed to the point where she demanded Aemond’s mouth, too.

.

They fucked each other long before her. Fears of pregnancy making her weary of having their lengths in her cunt. 

But it was not as if that was the only entry she had…in fact, this was detailed in the red book that they studied with more faithfulness than they ever had to the Seven. 

The engravings showed the act, which involved what they called the,

‘Quim of every human—man and woman, tucked between the cheeks of one's arse.

This hole does not weep the way of a woman’s sheath, it must be greased or oiled — when adequately done,

the receptacle will still squeak, but they will not suffer.’

It spoke the truth. Aegon did squeak as his brother tentatively worked his long fingers into his parted cheeks. 

He had to stifle screams when fingers were replaced by Aemond’s cock. 

And so, this became a new game they played. 

.

She watched them for weeks before deciding to partake. Aegon was enthusiastic in getting her ready, where Aemond was tentative about pressing into her. But in the end they were all breathless—well, except for Aegon, who wasted no time in taking his brother’s place inside her, his path lubricated by his siblings' seed.

It was good, the feeling of being stretched. Of being filled.

She wanted such a sensation somewhere else.

.

She had them—one after the other—in her cunt on her seventeenth name day. It was dangerous, she knew, but she had found notes in a midwifery book that spoke to safe times of the month, calculated by the days following a woman’s courses. And so she had tracked them dutifully for months until there was enough consistency she felt confident.

Even still, she told them they had to pull out. Her cunt would not taste their seed until she was married. 

They obeyed, just as they always did.

Aegon went first, licking her until she came before pressing inside of her—the intrusion one that made them both groan with pleasure. His thrusts were uneven and it was over fast but she could see how one could find pleasure in this act, given enough practice.

He spilled across her stomach, before Aemond took his place.

He was longer. 

The differences in their cocks was obvious when you looked at them, or felt them with your palm. She’d forced their lengths together as they stood, stroking and admiring the width of Aegon’s next to the length of Aemond’s. As if they had the same mass but were formed into different shapes, the same while not being even remotely similar. Quite like the men the appendages belonged to. 

What she knew of their lengths before this was that Aegon’s was more of a challenge to get in, given the width of it. But once deep enough to slide with ease, she thought any intrusion in her rear felt rather the same.

But this.

She understood now, why women were meant to be penetrated here. Every drag of his cock lit up pathways of nerves inside her that made her clench and shiver. She felt the precise shape of him inside of her, the length, the curve, and it all culminated in her peaking—a moment before he pulled from her and spilled across her folds.

Both of them were prompt in how they licked up their seed, lilac eyes looking at her heaving bosom as she attempted to catch her breath, all while they continued to dine upon the masculine syrup coating her creamy flesh.

.

For their sixteenth birthday, she had them both.

Gods.

She did not believe in any faith, really, but this almost made her think some higher power existed. Why else would they bestow men and women with such parts that fit together like this? That felt so good?

She had never felt more powerful in that moment, when she was pressed between them, speared on both of them….and yet she had never felt more vulnerable, either, for she realized how small she now was compared to their forms. They had grown to a point where they could defy her commands, but they didn’t, and she trusted them, even with her body and something like this. 

And for that reason, at that moment, she had never felt closer to them—and not just because she was full of their cocks, with lips pressing kisses to either side of her neck. Though she rather liked that part of this, too.

It was difficult enough to orchestrate that they were only able to have each other this way a handful of times in the following few months. But they hardly went unsatisfied, not with the engravings to guide them and their mouths and fingers eager to thrust when time or locale did not allow for a cock.

It was shaping up to be a rather blissful year, she thought. 

And then, their father died. 

story notes:

the "book" was inspired by later takes on the I Modi, a very erm, inspired, renaissance work with detailed engravings of numerous positions.

this was supposed to have a chapter two in which daemon returned to dragonstone and claimed the title for himself...along with his. brother's children. but due to lack of interest i've scrapped it for now.

[darlingsart]

i cannot even DARE to imagine what Achilles' labor might have been like, is there any art of it?

LMAO I don’t have any art BUT I have written about it:

Just a small snippet from my drafts! Yes the entire experience is just as dramatic as you’d think lol

[angie-j-kay]

I made a proper, planned out zine, intended for publication instead of just scattering around wherever!

Here we go, a zine on the origins and intent of Samhain, its conversion into Halloween, and how we can celebrate both beyond the costume parties and commercialized garbage.

Oh, and there's a soup recipe.

This is not the final product. This was a test to see how the layouts would work, and what I need to tweak on a printer. I'm considering adding some illustrations on the inside, and the cover will eventually be orange.

Also, this is ABSOLUTELY intended to be picked up by Evangelicals who think that Halloween is eeeeeeevil.

[angiewrvting]

Unusual Circumstances. Part 1.

Summary  ── AU. Unusual Circumstances follows the story of Ellie Rhead, one of the best criminal profilers in the country. Steve, Bucky and Ellie have been best friends since high school, however, that all changed when Bucky vanished without a trace and now Ellie has dedicated her life to finding him. And what happens when Steve has to watch the woman he’s fallen in love with pine for another man.

Pairing  ── Steve Rogers x Fem!OC. Bucky Barnes x Fem!OC

Warnings  ── Jealous Steve, OC jealousy, Swearing, conversations topics of sex, masturbation, abduction murder and serial killers, angst, fluff, drinking, smoking weed.

Word Count  ── 2.909K

Author Note  ── This is NOT beta read so all the mistakes are my own. This is my first ever fic on this blog. Please like and leave comments on this to let me know if you’d like a part two. Future parts will feature flash backs to when they all met, how Bucky disappeared, the case as it proceeds, their lives at home, what happened to him and of course a juicy love story. 

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY OPEN. 

185 days. That’s how many it’d been and it still didn’t get any easier.

‘’When was the last time you slept?’’ Steve grumbled from the sofa, flicking through the channels with boredom etched into every movement. It was a good question, in all honestly she wasn’t sure when the last time she’d managed to get a decent amount of sleep was. 

How could she when he was out there still?

Ellie’s chartreuse orbs were fixated on the paper work that lay scattered across her old oak desk, each detailing news articles that she’d poured relentlessly over. It was all part of the evidence she’d been collecting since he went missing. Some days it still didn’t feel real, she felt like she was in mourning every time she breathed, resonating deep within her chest.

The day Bucky vanished both she and Steve had been frantic. And now six months later it had become truly real that they may never find him. That he may truly be gone and while Steve had seemed to some what accepted it, Ellie couldn’t.

‘‘Y’know if you keep reading that shit your heads gonna’ explode.’‘ Steve whispered deeply, pushing to stand before walking over and resting his shoulder against the door frame. She knew if she looked up she’d find his piercing blue orbs shining with concern. 

‘‘Maybe another coffee will help --- ‘‘ Ellie began.

‘‘No. You’ve had enough caffeine, you need sleep.’‘ He wasn’t being mean, she knew it came from a place of concern and love but she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t.

It came out before she could stop herself.

‘‘I need Bucky.’‘ She snapped, instantly regretting it when he recoiled his eyes fluttering shut while he did that thing he where breathed deeply through his nose. She never spoke to him like that, it wasn’t they way they worked. ‘‘Sorry Steve.’‘ She muttered instantly raking her hands through the locks that framed her face. ‘‘Sorry.’‘ She muttered once more before pushing her face into her hands with a sigh. 

For a moment he felt that hurt swirl in his sternum, it stung to know that he wasn’t enough. He missed Bucky more than anyone would ever realize, he’d just learnt to channel his pain into other things. He hadn’t given up but he wasn’t letting it control his life anymore. He couldn’t. It’d been eating him alive, tearing him apart piece by piece. Ellie just hadn’t yet learned that she needed to keep herself healthy if she wanted to survive this.

Steve knew that she was over tired, he could see it, so with a sad sigh he closed the space between them pulling her up and into his arms. She was tense, unable to let that grief stop consuming her as the sobs wracked her from her body. How could it have been over six months with no sign of him. They knew he wouldn’t have just left. 

They’d never been apart this long since they’d became friends. 

‘’I just don’t know how we haven’t found him.’’ She sobbed into his chest, winding her arms around his middle to cuddle herself closer. Steve in that moment felt his own lip tremble. He hated how in pain she was and he missed his friend dearly. 

‘’I don’t know, Ellie. I wish I did. But I can’t give you the answers I so badly want too.’’  

For a while they stood in each others embrace allowing themselves to live in the pain that had been consuming them since that night. Steve’s hand finding home on he back, rubbing his hands up and down to soothe her the best he could. Ellie hadn’t noticed the longing looks that had developed over the last three years, the want and need that lingered in Steve’s orbs. 

He’d wondered at night if it’d always been there but he knew that he could never act on them. The two had always remained platonic, the best of friends and part of the trio. Steve was also keenly aware of the relationship Ellie and Bucky had, they had fun always up to something, flirty banter something they both found humor in and he’d always had to watch. Steve and Ellie had their moments they’d just always related on a more deep and emotional level. He honestly felt like she was the only person he could truly open up and be himself around. 

‘‘God, I’m sorry. I’m such a mess.’‘ Ellie muttered, sniffling as she finally began to stop crying. He didn’t let go though, resting his chin on her head. He remembered her saying that she always felt safe when he hugged her, and so any chance he got, Steve made sure to do just that.

‘‘You never have to apologize, El, y’know that.’‘ Steve hummed which made her cling to him a little harder. Ellie had for the longest time felt so comfortable around Steve most people mistook them as a couple, she was quick to tell them that they weren’t that. She’d laugh and tell the people that they were crazy. 

Yet, in his arms she felt at home. But some much of her longed for Bucky. It felt like it was killing her, and nights had become restless. She missed talking to him for hours on her patio, laughing until the sun came up or the long nights at Roosters, their favorite dive bar in town. 

‘‘We’re meant to be going to Roosters tonight.’‘ Ellie sniffled pulling back to take a look at the towering male whose beard and hair had grown out, a long piece falling in front of his eyes as he took a look at her, letting his thumb swipe away the stray tears. 

‘‘I know you don’t want to, but I think it’ll be good for you to get outta’ the house.’‘ Steve spoke softly but it was still firm. He knew she needed to be somewhere that wasn’t her place or the office. ‘‘Plus when was the last time me and you actually did karaoke?’‘ Steve smirked.

He earned a giggle from Ellie and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He wanted to capture it on a recording so he’d never forget it. ‘’There she is.’’ He chimed, looking down upon her sweetly. ‘’What d’ya say?’’ Steve probed wanting to at least attempt to get her to go out. 

‘‘Okay, fine. But you’re paying.’‘ Ellie cooed, slapping her hand on his chest finally pulling away from his embrace. In a matter of moments it went from sweet and tender back to their usual. And while Steve had longed to stay there longer, she was already turning and walking away.

Because she had no idea about the way she affected Steve Rogers. 

The music boomed from the speakers that Ellie was pretty sure were on their way out, the smell of beer lingering like stench in the air and floors that her shoes would stick to when she walked across the room. The best way to describe this place was a dive bar, or some form of almost derelict establishment. Roosters was a bar they’d stumbled upon in college, it’d been cheap and Bucky had worked part time behind the bar in the summers before he got a job as a fancy lawyer for a firm just twenty minutes out of town. 

And even when they moved up in the world and could have afforded to drink in much nicer places they still always came here. It was like a second home to them, they were friends with pretty much most of the regulars and they served the best hot nuts. Ellie couldn’t help remember him in here with them, all of them here until closing when they were told they had to go. 

Or the last conversation she had with Bucky. One that she’d never tell Steve about.

‘‘That’s a whiskey for you.’‘ Steve said, placing the drink down, before dropping into his own seat. ‘‘And a Shir--’’ He didn’t even get to finish before Ellie jumped in.

‘‘You’re drinking red wine?’‘ She teased, running her tongue across her bottom lip to stop the laughter from tumbling from her lips. 

‘‘You always make fun of my drink choices.’‘ 

‘‘That’s because your drink choices are....questionable.’‘ She scrunched up her nose. She’d never been a fan of red, and no matter how many times Steve tried to convince her otherwise, it was utterly disgusting. 

‘‘Okay, Mrs fancy criminal profiler with her whiskey.’‘ Steve managed to get out before they both burst into laughter. For a moment he realized that this was the most fun they’d had in what felt like weeks and they’d only just got here. He was hopeful. Telling himself that she just needed to get out and have some fun. Remember what living felt like. 

‘‘What are you singing tonight, then?’‘ Ellie asked smirking into her drink. Instantly she felt his side gaze burning into her. 

‘‘We not duet-ing?’‘ Steve asked furrowing his brows. 

‘‘Yes, of course. I need to make sure we get our rendition of 500 Miles in before the nights over. But I remember last time we were in here I won a bet.’‘ And instantly realization dawned on him. 

‘‘Oh you’re good.’‘ He grumbled having completely forgotten. 

The last time they’d found themselves in this establishment they’d decided to see who could out drink the other. The loser had to get up on stage and sing something that made them think of the winner. And as the blush tinted Steve’s cheeks, he couldn’t help himself think of the many songs that he found himself thinking about Ellie as he listened. 

‘‘I’ll give you time to get a few more drinks in you.’‘ Ellie promised with a smile, earning herself a roll of Steve’s eyes as he took a large gulp of the red wine instead of the sips he usually took. 

‘‘I’m gonna end up trashed.’‘ Steve confirmed and all she did was nod. 

For a while they sang along, chatted about the evening, reliving memories from their many adventurous nights in here and at some point Ellie had managed to score some weed for after they got home. Everything was going well until she arrived. 

Natasha fucking Romanoff. 

And in an instant she watched Steve’s attention drift from her to the red head. She shouldn’t have disliked her, she was a nice woman but there was something about Steve and Natasha’s relationship that got under her skin. They’d dated for a while a couple years ago before they broke it off so she could pursue her career and for the life of her, Ellie couldn’t understand how anyone could have broken up with Steve Rogers. 

Ellie wasn’t blind. He was gorgeous. And on top of all that he was one of the good ones. 

And while they’d maintained a friendship there was something in the way she seemed to always find a way to him when they were in the same bar, always touching him as if she was marking a claim on something that wasn’t hers. Not anymore. Ellie hadn’t even realized her jaw had clenched when she watched Steve get up from his seat almost automatically. Great. 

Within a moment he was gone embracing her. She should have been used to it by now but she just wasn’t. Instead she began to drink her drink taking her gaze off Steve in hopes that it’d just go away, focusing on the woman singing Kate Bush horrendously. 

‘‘Ellie.’‘ Natasha smiled slipping into the seat on the other side of Steve, while the other woman that she knew as Wanda took the seat next to her. ‘‘You’re looking well.’‘ And straight away she could feel the pity in her eyes, most people looked at her like it. Everyone knew just how much Bucky had meant to her. It was one of the reasons she hated coming because everyone felt sorry for them, but she knew they thought it was time she moved on.

She would never. 

‘‘It’s good to see you Natasha.’‘ She offered a tight smile. ‘‘And you, Wanda.’‘ Ellie took another sip of her drink hoping that they could talk between themselves and she could get Steve back to herself. It was just meant to be them tonight, anyway. And unfortunately the three of them quickly delved into conversation, while Ellie just nodded along.

She knew Steve was trying to include her and she wasn’t being rude, or at least, trying not to be. Natasha hadn’t done anything wrong but she just couldn’t seem to get over how she felt towards her. It was definitely because she’d hurt her best friend, she couldn’t shake the memory of seeing Steve in the state he was after she broke up with him. And when Nat lent forward to laugh, her hand falling to Steve’s thigh, Ellie felt every part of herself tense up.

She didn’t want Steve to get false hope, that’s what she was telling herself. This had nothing to do with the fact that Ellie for just a moment thought about what he’d think if she did that to him.

‘‘Nat was just telling me that she heard there’s a really good film at the movies coming out this week, maybe we should check it out soon.’‘ Steve said turning to Ellie with hopeful eyes, a sweet smile on his lips so much so that all she could do with nod with a soft smile. 

‘‘That’d be nice, Steve.’‘ Ellie knew it’d mean the world to him. She’d been neglecting him for some time and maybe he just needed her to be a little more present. She couldn’t guarantee she’d be able to keep it up all the time, but she could at least try and be a better friend. 

All it took a look over Steve’s shoulder to see Nat’s gaze burning into Ellie. Oh, she knew that look. She’d been telling Steve about the movie in hopes that they’d go with each other and he’d just out right invited his best friend along. Sometimes Steve could be a little bit clueless, but she was kind of glad in that moment that he was. 

‘‘Steve --- ‘‘ Nat began, pulling his attention back to her. (As usual) ‘‘I was kinda hoping...just me and you would go to that movie.’‘ And Ellie couldn’t say she wasn’t impressed, at least the girl said what she meant instead of just pretending it was what she’d always intended. ‘‘Like...old times.’‘ Nat and Ellie were both watching, waiting for the penny to drop.

And then it did.

Steve’s mouth formed into the ‘o’ shape, before he nodded. Ellie couldn’t watch so she took her gaze back to the stage that now had a man trying his luck singing Gold and he wasn’t half bad, so she tried to focus on that. What she missed in that moment was Steve trying to gauge Ellie’s reaction to what Natasha had said. Was she bothered? Did she hope that he’d say no? The one thing that bugged Steve to no ends was that he could read her like an open book pretty much all the time but when it came to him she was unreadable. A complex puzzle with a thousand individual pieces that never seemed to interlock.

‘‘Sorry Nat, I misread what you were saying.’‘ Steve said sheepishly, offering her that thousand watt grin that drew all the girls in. Just not the one he wanted. ‘‘I’d love that.’‘ The second the words left his mouth he regretted them because Ellie said nothing, her face didn’t move so he offered the best smile he could muster to Natasha and moved the conversation along.

Ellie could see that the red head was ecstatic. She was getting her claws back in him and the thought alone made her feel sick to her stomach. She just knew if she said anything to Steve he’d think she was being a paranoid best friend. Because that’s all she was to him. 

Buzz.

Her phone buzzing changed the conversation, and Steve turned from her instantly. She knew he was pissed off but she couldn’t quite place her finger on why. She’d never met someone who could go from being a ball of sunshine to a brooding poet in the space of seconds.

That was Steve fucking Rogers she mused to herself. 

‘‘Sorry --- I gotta’ take this’‘ Ellie muttered instantly answering as she made to stand. But she wouldn’t make it very far because the whole world seemed to freeze. That voice was one she’d thought she may never hear again. Bucky. It wasn’t him though, it was a recording. She could tell from the static and scratching in the sound. It was him begging for his life and in that was him crying out her name repeatedly. 

Bucky was being tortured and someone was using it to torture her. 

‘‘What...’‘ She breathed shaking like she was vibrating. ‘‘Stop. No. What ever you need, what ever it takes, please. Please, not him. Stop’‘ She screamed into her phone which instantly caught Steve, Natasha and Wanda’s attention. He made to stand instantly, calling out her name when his hand settled upon her arm, fear and concern written all over his mouth, tilting his head to the side. He had no idea what was going on.

But he feared the worst. 

‘‘They’re killing him.’‘ Was all Ellie sobbed before the world went black.

IF YOU WANT A PART TWO, YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!

[fire-lady-ilah]

What happened to your AO3 fics?

Not entirely sure what you mean by this. They should still be up on AO3 (I’d be very upset if they weren’t!)

If you’re referring to the lack of updates… honestly, I’ve just been busy. I’ve been alternating university full time and working full time so I haven’t had as much time as I used to— not to mention I burnt myself out a little when I was last updating. Most of the stuff I’ve posted was written either while I was in high school or at the beginning of my first year of uni, and first year is definitely not the hardest.

I’ve only recently started posting here again and while I am trying to write again, I make no promises on when the next update will be. However, my ATLA fics all hold a very special place in my heart and I don’t plan on abandoning them permanently (including both The Dragon King series and Silence is a Virtue)

[angel-with-paper-wings]

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Unplanned/unwanted pregnancy

Marriage of convenience

“Only one bed” trope (when the characters are not already in a relationship)

Miscommunication as a major plot point

With these, I think I just don’t like how the characters are basically forced into a relationship due to outside circumstances. That kind of romance always feels fakey to me personally; most of my stories take their time with the romance of the characters and lets them fall in love naturally, because to me it just makes for a more realistic and emotional read.

Also, this isn’t really a trope, but just because I am an E/C writer it sometimes seems like I “need” to hate Raoul. Well guess what: I don’t. I love my lil Vicomte boi, and I’m not going to paint him in a mean light or give him an unhappy ending. He doesn’t deserve that. ❤️

Who knows, I might eat my words with some of these someday, but for right now these are ones that I personally dislike/never read so I don’t think I would write them.

[angielalalu]

More Wisped Away AU!! See part 1 of this brainrot here

Xiao and Venti meet as kids when a bunny lure Venti into the faerie realm

Xiao is fascinated by Venti from the start but also slightly worried that this human child is too trusting

At the end of each summer they make a promise to meet again next year

The thing is, the longer Venti stays away from Xiao and the faerie realm, the more he forgets about it

Venti therefore returns every summer with barely any memories until the bunny leads him back into the realm

Venti then remembers everything like it was never forgotten in the first place

Venti’s in his early teens when he starts to understand that Xiao isn’t human (in a way he always knew but one summer it kinda just clicks)

Around the same time Venti starts to realise that he might have a bit of a crush on his fae friend

[castielsprostate]

having talented friends is so wild!!!!!! like. YOU!!!!!!!!!! YOU made THAT. YOU DID THAT?!?!?!?! YOU created!!!! THAT!!!!!!!!!!! WOAH!!!!!! praise!!!!!!!! praise for one thousand years!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[stay-close]

I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

[hellitwasyoufirstsergeant]

Safe in His Arms - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: you finally confront your feelings for your friend Eddie after yet another nightmare

A/N: please reblog/comment if you enjoy my work! My requests are open and requesting info can be found in my navigation <3

Warnings: reader is afab but gender neutral. Smut - fingering. I would prefer that only 16+ interact with this work, please respect this boundary. Reader has nightmares

Word Count: 1.5k

You came to with a whimper and a sudden start, and sat up in the darkness, waiting for your pounding heart to return to normal. Every night, you went to bed hoping that tonight would be different. That you wouldn’t be consumed by nightmares. But your wish had yet to be granted, and this night was no exception. It had been three months since Vecna had been defeated, and yet still the nightmares persisted. When you had to fight to survive, it was the rare chances for some shut-eye that offered you your only peace. Now, it was peace by day and fighting by night, just of a different kind. 

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair, the roots slightly damp with sweat, beads of which you could also feel on your back. Every night when you woke up in this state, you had to fight the urge to call Eddie. You loved everyone who’d been brought into your life since your best friend Robin told you about the Upside Down the summer prior, but it was always Eddie Munson who had this almost magical power over you that ensured his mere presence was able to calm you instantly. 

You were sure he wouldn’t mind being woken to comfort you, fondly remembering the nights you spent curled in each other’s arms as you kept him company during his time evading the Hawkins police department, and subsequently as you helped him recover from his wounds. 

For the last few weeks, though, you’d avoided Eddie like the plague. Your romantic feelings for him, although unknown and unseen by everyone else, felt like a fire deep in your chest. It was intense and it was painful. You’d never found the courage to come to terms with the depth of your feelings for him, let alone act on them. In the beginning, Eddie’s status as a fugitive from the law had been your excuse. Now, you weren’t sure you had one. 

Before you could truly comprehend your own actions, you were slipping on your boots and rubbing your sleep filled eyes, grabbing your car keys and driving through the deserted streets of Hawkins to the trailer park. 

Once you arrived, you tapped softly on the door, hoping Eddie was home. 

“Yeah,” a sleep-filled voice mumbled as the door opened. His expression when he saw you was one of deep concern, the intensity of his eye contact causing you to melt on the spot. He pulled you inside, careful to be gentle, as he always was with you. 

“I had a nightmare… can I stay with you tonight?” Your question was barely audible, and Eddie had to strain to hear you. Your heart thudded against your chest even more than it had when you were trapped in the depths of your nightmare, the sickening dread of rejection taking over your body, as you took a couple steps backwards and reached for the doorknob, desperate to make a quick escape when his inevitable “no” sounded in the air. 

“You can always stay with me,” Eddie circled his arms around you. His words almost caused you to collapse with relief that your boldness hadn’t ended in disaster, and you steadied yourself in his warm embrace. Once again, you were safe. Eddie pulled you gently by the hand into his bedroom, and you shimmied off the jeans you had pulled on to drive over. After some stumbling and awkward movements you both managed to get into bed comfortably. The only thing was, the bed was small, so your faces were barely two inches apart. 

You were both breathing heavily, his breath fanning your face. As Eddie innocently smiled and draped his arm over your waist, you felt wetness pooling in your panties, and couldn’t help your gaze from falling to his lips. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he mumbled, still sleepy, your desire for him growing as he began trailing his hand slowly up and down your spine. 

“Not really,” you whispered in response, swallowing heavily, and hoping that your voice didn’t betray your nervousness. 

But, your boldness in seeking him out had been rewarded thus far, why not go on step further, you reasoned. And with that thought, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss. Pulling back, you saw Eddie’s eyes looking into yours, a grin on his lips. 

“I wanted to do that for the longest time, but I could just never quite work up the courage,” Eddie whispered, pulling you towards him so your body was completely pressed against his, and capturing your lips in another kiss. This kiss wasn’t chaste like the last, in fact his passion surprised you. The heat between your legs grew as his hands began to roam your body. 

“Is this okay?” Eddie, as respectful as ever, broke off to ask as his fingers grazed your breasts. 

“God yes, don’t stop there,” you closed your hand around his and guided it to your nipple. His thumb rubbed slow circles over your shirt, and it wasn’t long before your nipple pebbled under his touch. “More,” it wasn’t a question or a command, but a statement, and Eddie immediately took notice, moving his hand down to pull your leg up and hook it around his waist, the parting of your legs allowing a rush of air to add to the wetness that was now soaking your panties.

The blood roared in your ears as you pulled Eddie’s hand from your breast and settled it in between your legs. He groaned at the feeling of your drenched panties beneath his fingers. 

“If you don’t put your hand where I need it right now I’ll just have to do it myself,” you whined, and Eddie didn’t need telling twice. He plunged his hand into your panties, growling slightly at the feeling of your curls between his fingers. 

Having soaked his fingers in your wetness, Eddie began rubbing circles on your clit, encouraged by your moans. You leaned forward into his chest, the vibrations of your mewls only turning him on more, the tent in his pants growing bigger by the second. 

Your breath hitched as Eddie buried two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out. He groaned as he watched your face scrunch up with pleasure, pumping his fingers in and out of your sex as you breathed in each other’s air, your faces mere centimetres apart. Both of you abandoned any concern for the residents of the nearby trailers, as your mewls became more wanton. 

Adding a third finger and earning a choked moan in response, Eddie brushed his lips against yours. You leaned in slightly and sucked his bottom lip, and he grunted as he began to work your clit with his palm, the added pleasure causing your thighs to twitch. 

It had been a long time since anyone apart from you had touched your core, and never had someone you held such a deep love for pleasured you in this way. You tried to distract yourself in a vain attempt not to cum embarrassingly quickly, but you couldn’t prevent the familiar sensation from growing in your belly as Eddie carried on rubbing your clit while still moving his fingers in and out of you. 

You could both hear the obscene noise they were making against your wetness, your cheeks growing a rosy-red. This, combined with the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead and your breathy moans, was the most sinful and yet the most beautiful sight that Eddie had ever seen, and in that moment he fell even more in love with you. 

“I love you,” he whispered, and you couldn’t speak as his words sent you over the edge, your thighs trembling as the fire in your abdomen exploded. Your mouth hung open but you couldn’t speak as the waves of ecstasy rolled through your body. Zoning out completely, your eyes pressed shut and ears ringing, it took you a moment to realise that Eddie was pressing kisses to your arm in between murmured praises. 

“Hmmmm,” you replied, unable to manage more as you lay there in sated bliss, your core still contracting a little around his fingers. Slowly, he pulled them out of you, causing you to jolt a little. He licked your wetness off his fingers, humming in contentment as he did so. 

“I meant it,” he broke the silence as he turned so that he was once again facing you. “I’m in love with you.” His thumb grazed your lips, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. 

“I love you too,” your voice was wobbly, and you weren’t sure if it was because of Eddie’s confession or your overwhelming orgasm. He kissed you deeply, but it was sweet and soft, exactly the kind of kiss that you’d expect from him.

Please help a writer out and reblog if you enjoyed my work! 💗

[anamazingangie]

'Cause I was filled with poison ☀️ Rhaenyra x Oberyn x Daemon

☀️ Rated E ☀️ 54k words ☀️ Complete! ☀️ by AmazingAngie ☀️ Tags: no time travel, just me fucking with the timeline, just like oberyn is going to fuck rhaenyra, and daemon, numerous snake euphemisms, f/m/m, m/m, feelings realization, relationship negotiation, anal sex, overstimulation, double penetration Summary:

Oberyn was famed for fucking half of Westeros—and Daemon was rumored to have fucked the rest.  They joked that together their cocks had conquered the entire Seven Kingdoms. Rhaenyra had rolled her eyes—neither amused nor jealous by this statement, but rather indifferent to it. She knew of his reputation and thought it mattered little. Daemon had returned to her. He wanted her. He had married her. And all would be well. No man, friend, or foe would change that—no matter how handsome. . Or: Bonded by their desire for flesh and blood, Oberyn Martell and Daemon Targaryen have a friendship that spans decades. And Rhaenyra has a problem.

This began as a very self indulgent fic based on a conversation about the chemistry Matt Smith and Pedro Pascal manage to bring to every single role they take. Then I started thinking their ASOIF characters and what chemistry they would have together. 

The characters they play are similar they are in a lot of ways and I feel like they are both the sort attracted to those who remind them of themselves (both emotionally and physically), so the similarities could be the basis for both a strong friendship and a sexual relationship. Daemon isn’t really shown as having close friends in canon (or respecting people in general) and I enjoyed exploring what that might look like with Oberyn.

This isn’t a time travel AU. I’ve just fucked with the timeline so the characters shown in GoT inhabit the House of Martell a hundred years earlier. Elia Martell is engaged to Viserys Targaryen, which is how Oberyn and Daemon meet. 

It primarily focuses on the week before Daemon and Rhaenyra marry. Rhaenyra learns about defying social norms for the sake of her own happiness, which takes the form of enjoying pleasure with a snake in addition to a dragon. While Oberyn confronts feelings he had long since denied for both his sister and his oldest friend.

This fic involves sex between Daemon/Oberyn, Daemon/Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra/Oberyn, and the whole trio together. Oberyn is not an equal 33.3% of their relationship, which the epilogue shows, but they love him and he always has a place in their home/bed when he wants it.  Rhaenyra is not heir and has an idillic post marriage life on Dragonstone with Daemon (when not visiting Dorne) along with their children. Their affinity for making sons paired with Oberyn's many daughters works out quite well, as you'll see in the epilogue. 😉

Idk if you can tell but I’m quite proud of this and had so much fun incorporating Oberyn into this world and some Dornish culture into Daemyra (which is why it grew to 54k words, holy fuck!) I hope you’ll give it a try, weird pairing  and premise aside!

☀️☀️ It can be read HERE! ☀️☀️

[corvidcall]

None Of You Know What Haiku Are

I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.

If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?

Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!

First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.

For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.

In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).

Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?

Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.

(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)

Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.

Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.

Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:

古池や　蛙飛び込む　水の音 (Furu ike ya　kawazu tobikomu　mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)

You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.

English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.

Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.

Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)

The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel

We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.

"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:

meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals

When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.

"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?

I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards

a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds

Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

Further reading:

Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine

[emacrow]

The justice league were at their wits ends as Klarion had been reaking havoc for 8 and half months for some apparent reasons that even the villains had no idea why he was so upsets.

To the point they had Constantine who look like he went through fresh hell and was covered in a splattered of glowing green goop from head to toe (lararus pits..?), who just started writing on the floor in every star like constellation as he started chanting in the song to.. space is so cool?!?!

Only for it to actually work, as line white gloved like hand pull itself out going from eldritch horror to form itsslf into to a very pissed, and very pregnant looking floating..boy??

"KLARION, You %&#&×*$ #&@!!!" Shouted floating boy who just.. wait did he crossed the protection barrier around the summoning circle...?!?

Only for one of the bat, probably Tim to noticed klarion getting his ass grassed into the literal ground by this very pissed off entity.

"Look what you did to me, sweet gone with the wind jerk and not one message returned?!?!?

Most of the males in the Justice league and Villain group flinched when this obvious pissed off pregnant entity kicked klarion directly in the mother pearls.

As they slowly realized one thing all together.

oh... OH,.. Oh No..

Meanwhile Jason is in a chair with glowing green covered popcorn with Dani at his apartment watching this on live TV.

"Should we tell danny that Lex was taking klarion's mail for 8 months due to them being ectoplasm concentrated covered..?" Jason said as he munched on popcorn, watching mostly danny beating the absolute soul of poor klarion who is obviously didn't realize his danny was pregnant the entire time.

"Nah, let danny take his frustration out first, it only fair for him considering klarion owed him for forgetting their anniversary." Dani said eating a bucket of fudge brownies.

[thoughtkick]

At an early age I learned that people make mistakes, and you have to decide if their mistakes are bigger than your love for them.

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give

[quotefeeling]

I can’t change where I come from or what I’ve been through, so why should I be ashamed of what makes me, me?

Angie Thomas, The Hate U Give