#Secrets of the six wives

[cromwelll]

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Me *about to hyperfixate on a new thing*: Well this looks sort of interesting, let’s just go over there and check it out, see what the fuss is, it’ll take like an hour at most-

Me *after falling asleep at 4 am and waking up to go further down the rabbit hole*: I don’t know what I was expecting to be honest. I should know better by now.

[simpjaes]

HARD CASH, EASY MONEY (p.js)

Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later. 

Or the one where you tell jay that if breaks the rules, he’s going to have to fork up a very large sum of money and, well, he seems entirely ready to pay up. 

minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

WORDCOUNT― 5.4k

PAIRING― jay x afab reader

CONTENT― pussy drunk and rich as hell jay, stripper reader, jay is taller than reader.

NOTE: if u read this before no u didn’t bc i reworked a lot of it!!! just to cover my bases, hi i am ncteez and if you feel like this fic sounds too close to another one, its because i wrote them both!!! thank you!!! 

nsfw tags under cut:

nsfw tags: lap dancing, shy-ish jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, doggy style on a couch, thick cock jay, reader doesn’t cum lmfaooooo

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having sex with a client is a big no-no in the industry you’ve grown to love. You are to be desired, eye-fucked, and paid to look sexy. The fact that you don’t have to give them any part of you outside of a show?  What’s not to love about it? 

There are men who try to get touchy, men who are too shy to make eye contact, and men who refuse to break eye contact. All three of these types of clients bring in the big bucks and tend to become regulars to either yourself or one of the other girls who make the men believe they are also an object of desire. 

It’s easy, really. After all, why not use the goods you were born with to make the big bucks?

Then you have those clients. The men with big-shot jobs, walking in and ordering the most expensive drink, quietly observing the women as if they aren’t even interested at all. The ones who have wives, children, and stresses that will weigh on them the moment they walk out of their homes for work. 

To them, you are their secret little stress relief and you often find yourself acting out towards them, letting them break a rule or two, perhaps. Dancing a little longer for them sometimes just to really rake in the dollars. Mostly because they’re the ones who pay your expensive rent. They’re the reason you can live on the high-end of the city and buy new, sexy, lingerie to wear each night you dance and bounce around on the stage. 

Jay was one of those men, so you assumed. A little young looking if you’re being honest, but who are you to pry when he’s throwing hundreds at you and the other dancers? 

 You remember the first time he walked through those doors. You thought he was going to be one of the shy men, avoiding eye contact and shuffling uncomfortably on his seat to hide the boner, presumably ashamed to know he could never have the women up on stage that are intentionally making him hard. 

He isn’t though, and you swear just last weekend he bought out the entire fucking club because he was the only one watching on a late saturday night, silently judging each dancer. You also remember when he made eye contact with you on that night. His eyes were sharp under the dimmed lighting and you swear he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat with the intimidation, mostly because the motherfucker smirked before throwing out five crisp hundred dollar bills.

Even on the first night he ever attended, the girls talked. You remember when your best friend ran back in her six inch pumps, jumping with glee and explaining that the new guy threw two hundred at her only a minute into her dance. 

Naturally, all the girls wanted to put on a show for him after that.

He appeared to be rich. And everyone was shocked, really, because even the richest of clients typically don’t give a bill over fifty to the dancers unless he pays for privacy. This man though? He was tipping with bills that showed his status. 

It was really only natural from that moment forward for each girl plus yourself to try and win him over. You’d stay near his side of the stage, directing the gyrating and pussy shots right at him just to see those bills flutter to the floor of the stage. 

In all honesty though, these types of clients never stay long. Usually they’re in the city on business and visit once, only to never come back. This one though? Oh, he keeps coming back. Every. Single. Saturday. 

Having no ring on his fingers only made it better because many of the married men do not feel the guilt of ogling women while married. Huge turn off. Like, hey, if they don’t touch, it’s not cheating right? Either way, eating fancy and living in your nice flat paid for by the lust of men is a perfect lifestyle for you. Even if you have to pretend to like the pigs pretending to love their wives.

You called dibs on this new man as quickly as you could, to the dismay of the other dancers. Calling dibs was never truly honored though, because who the man chooses is usually who ends up dancing for him and getting the most money. 

This guy never seemed to choose a girl though. He never pays for dances, never speaks, never so much as shivers in his seat at the image of a pussy sticking to panties in front of his face for his money. All he does is watch and throw bills.

You should be pleased. After all, he’s kind of a perfect client.

Weeks and months go by at this point and Jay keeps his regular Saturday night appearances. After what you and all the other dancers believe regarding him buying out the club last weekend, he’s a very welcome face to see. 

Tonight though, several dancers have come back into the lounge crying because this guy didn’t tip them a fucking dime. Given, a bouncer shows up not ten minutes after each crying face with a nice tray of drinks and an envelope with their stage names on it. 

It’s gotten to the point now that with how long he’s been visiting the club, some girls even roll their eyes at him. Wondering how desperate he must be, how privileged he must be to flaunt his money the way he does. 

Still, that doesn’t stop every single one of you from working your bodies for him in hopes of more, more, more money. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Same old, same old at the club half a year later. Saturday night, several regulars, several new faces, and of course, that young rich guy sitting front and center. 

You walked into work just as the sun began to set and there he was. At this point you can tell by the back of his head with that nice hair cut. So many other men show up disheveled, and half of them are already wasted by the time later shows even start. Still, you smile in knowing you’ll make rent again this month. After all, you just spent a bit too much money on some new shoes and outfits. 

Still, but this point regarding this rich ass guy, even you’re getting annoyed. Every saturday he tips you anywhere between five hundred to a thousand dollars. Given, you’re very aware that it’s much more than the other dancers get, and you kind of have been lying about the amount he tips you so they don’t feel bad. It’s the fact that he isn’t giving anyone a chance to really show him a good time. 

Private rooms and VIP services are highly sought after in this club and he can definitely afford it. It just appears that he doesn’t want to get personal with anyone.

Given, there’s no sex involved, of course. It’s just intimate lap dances, music of their choosing, sharing drinks, and occasionally just becoming a therapist for loser old men. Still, you wish he’d give you a chance to really get into your moves. 

And, well, would you look at that.

You’re in the back room settling into your seat to lace up your new shoes when one of the owners walks up to you. 

“You’ve got a dance.” He says to you, smiling. “You’ll never guess who it is.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, popping your lips with the pretty lipgloss before wiping some off that overlined your lips, and then shift your eyes to the owner through the glass. 

“Jake, again?” 

The owner shakes his head with a laugh. Surely Jake would be here soon to try and get you to dance for him again though. 

“Who, then?” You laugh, leaning back down to fix a strap on your shoe. 

“His name is Park Jongseong, goes by the name of Jay.”

“Okay?” You laugh, turning in your chair to face the man. “Is this his first time buying a dance?”

“Oh yeah.” The owner says brightly. “He bought you out for the entire night, head to room 11 when you’re dressed, he’s already made himself at home.” 

Nothing else is said by the owner as he turns and walks out. 

“The whole night?” One of the girls laughs at your situation. “You’d better hope he tips well.”

“Well, buying out the entire night sounds expensive, he must be one of the rich ones.” You laugh with a shrug, a little frustrated that your new shoes won’t be seen by the foot-fetish men. They’re always out and feral on Saturdays. 

“Maybe–” The other dancer laughs, looking at you with kind of a pitiful look. “Hope he’s not ugly.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’ve done so many private dances before, but none that had ever taken the entire shift. To be fair, you didn’t even know they could do that. You assume that the owner took the offer because he decided the money was worth it. Wondering how much was offered to pay for your presence, you feel kind of good. 

This isn’t exactly a cheap club, surely this is a great opportunity. 

Whoever Jay is though, he’d better make this wasted shift worth your time.

“Hi,” You whisper without looking up, sauntering into room 11 with a small voice. They always like when you’d act smaller in terms of personality, submissive even. 

The lights are dimmer than usual when you walk in and you’ve only used this room once or twice during your entire career at this club. It was the most expensive room, one with its own pole, a large velvet couch, and more space to move around compared to the others. 

The man doesn’t respond to you as your eyes adjust to him, but then–Oh.

Oh.

Jackpot.

“Jay?” You look at the man who had spent thousands on you and the other dancers since he’d become a regular. “That’s the name of the man who spoils us?” 

He just nods at you, staring you up and down with the same sharp eyes he had the night you’d first seen him. 

“Not a man of many words?” You question, walking over to him slowly, swinging your hips like the way you always do when you’re on the clock. “So, I take it you won’t tell me why you picked me, huh?” You laugh playfully, looking over to the pole but parking yourself in front of him. 

“Why wouldn’t I have picked you?” He lets out, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re my favorite to watch.”

Hearing his voice felt surreal, somehow setting him apart from any other client you’ve had seated in front of you. His voice is smooth, but you can’t tell if you think that because he’d held your curiosity for the longest time, or because he just said you’re his favorite to watch.

“Oh yeah?” You smile at him with a tilt of your head. “Lucky me.” 

With that, you see how he relaxes against the couch to watch you. Business as usual. You don’t even ask how much he shelled out for this, because you know it had to be a lot. His first offer was probably much more than what the owner would have accepted to begin with. 

You do your job for him though, twirling and sliding yourself against and on the pole. The music is a lovely choice, one that is chill enough to move slowly, but upbeat enough to bounce and wiggle for him. 

The pole is cold as usual, allowing your nipples to perk enough to where, now, because he is closer to you than he had ever been, he can see them. You definitely see him watching too, still with that same bored expression despite the money he lends out just to experience it. You continue your routine, spreading your cheeks, pressing your tits together, making eye contact with him, smirking, and licking your lips. 

Jay mouths the lyrics to the songs sometimes, but his eyes never leave you even when he dips his head for a drink. His eyes are less sharp now compared to before, being replaced with a hazy kind of look as he drags his gaze up and down your mostly-exposed body. 

Noting that you’ve never seen his face shift before out in the main area, you believe that you are experiencing Jay actually reacting to a woman now. No longer looking uninterested but tipping as if he had cum in his pants during each dance. You feel entirely desired by him, and you kind of like it. 

“I think you’re the most handsome client I’ve ever danced for.” You say in a soft voice, slowly backing away from the pole as the song changes. After all, you always sweet talk clients when it’s a one on one like this, though usually you’re lying. You actually mean it this time. “Do you know the rules?” 

Jay nods as his legs spread a bit when you walk towards him. He knows you’re taking your time because he did pay for the entire night. 

“No touching.” You whisper as the bass picks up on the speakers. It’s lap-dance time at the moment, and like always, you recite the most important rule. 

He nods again, eyes glued to you as you turn around in front of him and begin to ghost your ass over his lap. 

Watching you, he is well aware of the rules and perfectly comfortable with them. He would never violate a woman regardless of how sexy he finds her. He can buy her time, but he knows he can’t buy her intimacy on any level higher than he already has. 

You dance against him for what feels like an hour, but only three songs come and go. Jay is stoic beneath you but you can see his facade break every now and then. He will shake his head to himself sometimes, or flutter his eyes closed when your tits are less than an inch from his face. 

Usually, he is great at composing himself in this kind of situation. He knew when he became a regular here that having you would be impossible but that didn’t stop him from showing up. He knows it’s your job, and you act this way with everyone, so he can’t just break composure and show you just how fucking badly he wants you. Truly, he can’t embarrass himself by being so obvious.

“I imagine you’re struggling, Jay–” You break him out of his thoughts by calling him out instantly,  turning and now spreading your legs across his lap to sit on him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, mostly because you know he’s going to tip you big time. “Don’t you want to touch?” 

He stutters out a laugh, and maybe believing he was one of the shy clients isn’t entirely untrue.

“It’s against the rules.” He deadpans, keeping his hands at his sides and glancing away from you, trying not to imagine the fact that he’s got the prettiest stripper in the club grinding against his cock right now. Though you’re not entirely grinding against it, he can feel a soft sort of friction every few seconds as you dance on top of him. 

“Do you want to break the rules?” You tilt your head, knowing that you’re already touching him by wrapping your arms around him and kind of like, being incredibly attracted to him. You’d probably let him break more than a few rules if he wants it, not just for the tips either.

When he looks up to make eye contact with you, you nod at him and he follows, nodding himself.

“If you break a rule and touch me, you will have to pay me a hefty fine not to tell on you.” You laugh cheekily, batting your lashes and bouting your lips at him. 

He could pay your rent for the next several months if he wanted to  just for fucking fun? Like hell you’d report him for touching you when you’re struggling yourself not to touch him more.

“How much?” He instantly says, smirking as if you could name any price. For him though, hearing you suddenly offer some sort of deal in order to let him touch you has his mind doing flips.

Rules, rules, fucking rules.

Fuck the rules, he can afford to break them.

You’re a little taken aback by his playing along. You were mostly joking, but the suggestion is still there if he’s the type to... y’know, wanna fool around with a stripper. 

“Half a mil.” You joke again, pulling back from his lap to slap against his arm, knowing the price is too high but flirting anyway. “Touch me and you lose”

You didn’t expect him to nod back at you. 

“Five hundred thousand.” He confirms, keeping his hands at his sides. “Go on then, try and win your money.”

You’re fucking floored. Half a million is really on the line right now? There’s no fucking way he thinks he can lose. No way would a man really put that much on the line just to see if you can seduce them into breaking a rule that you’d allow him to break for free. 

The game is on now though, it seems,  as you do everything in your power to tease the ever-loving fuck out of the rich man in front of you. You ruffle his hair, you ghost your lips over his and everywhere else, you dance against him, on him, around him. You spread your legs out for him, slapping your own clothed pussy, you tease your nipples at him as if you’d pull your breasts out. 

You can see him start to falter about two hours into the game. You had whispered into his ear and noted how he leaned into it. When you walked around the couch so that you could stand in front of him again, you saw how painfully hard he had become. Lowering yourself to your knees in front of him as if you would be in a position to swallow his cock whole, you look up at him innocently. “Is that for me?”

Jay groans, nodding shortly. He’s definitely breaking, and he’s starting to not care. 

“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now–” He admits when he drops his hand from his hair and looks at you with a crooked smile. 

You smile at him, that half a mil is yours. 

“Oh yeah?” You run your hands up and down his thighs. “You’ve wanted to fuck me before?” 

Jay nods, watching how dangerously close your hands get to his cock, lending a twitch and hoping you notice it. 

“You’ll lose if you touch me though–” You’re cut off by him, seething out words in a deeper voice.

“You act like I didn’t intend to lose.” He says, leaning forward and pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head to look at him. 

When he lifts your chin, he pulls your face a bit closer, shifting your body in a way that allows him to slot a leg between yours from the floor. He stares at you, almost like he knows that even after giving you the prize money, he’d still be the one to win. 

“D-did you?” You say, a bit intimidated by him and his rough hand holding your face, he forces you to look at him. 

“I did.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’ve never moved your body like this on stage, was I wrong to think you’d let me fuck you?” 

You shake your head, sticking your tongue out a bit to lick the tip of his thumb, unintentionally rubbing your pussy against his shin. 

“But I don’t fuck clients.” You try to argue for the sake of it, despite Jay definitely being a client you want to fuck.

“Oh yeah?” He says, turning your face to the side and skewing his neck to see your ass. “Is that why you’re practically fucking my leg right now?” 

You bashfully shake your head out of his grip, halting your hips and pulling back from how close his face is to yours. “No?” He laughs, leaning back and crossing his arms as he looks down at you. 

“I mean…“ You go back on your own word. “You already touched me and–” You shrug. ”I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wet right now.”

Jay’s cock instantly twitches against his pants as he smirks at you with a confident nod.

“Stand up then.” He says, nodding his head more as if to motion you to do as he says. His legs spread as you rise to your feet and he instantly adjusts himself when he goes to stand up in front of you too.

Fuck, he’s taller than you and the way he looks down at you feels so much more intimating than before. You are entirely silent when he towers over you and you flinch a bit when his arm wraps around your waist.

You’re a little shocked by how rough he is when he moves you around, twisting you to where you’re facing the couch and being shoved down against it. “This is what you wanted, right?” He seethes out as you hear his belt being unbuckled.

Almost in a whine, you whisper out a ‘yes’. He’s floored by the sound of it, because it almost sounds like a fucking plead. Lucky me, he thinks. 

After all, he’s watched you for months moving your body like you need a cock to fill it. Not just dancing like the other girls, you would fuck the stage for him and his money. And now? Oh, you’re gonna get fucked. 

Jay doesn’t hesitate after hearing you, the money he’s lost in the bet is so far in the back of his mind because to be fair, he would have paid far more just to look at you. The only reason he’s pulling his cock out right now is because you fucking want it. 

The bet was to not touch you. It appears you’d be pleased with both his cock and his money.

Not because it’s your job either, quite frankly, he knows it isn’t your job to fuck clients. He feels special, and he knows he damn well should be special. 

You were seeing stars from the moment he touched your face, but this? God, this is more than you could have imagined. Such a fit, attractive man throwing his money at you and slipping your panties to the side just to see what no one else in this club sees. You wonder if his mouth is watering, if his hands are trembling, if his cock is twitching. 

Jay slips a finger into you with ease and without warning, just to test and see if you really do want him to fuck you into the next dimension, and thankfully, you’re more wet than he could have imagined. 

“Goddamn, baby, you want it?” He asks, confirming for himself that this is all for him. 

You nod your face against the couch, arching in a way that props your ass up a little higher for him. 

“Good good.” He says, fucking his finger into you a bit more before taking another step forward and resting his cock between your cheeks for a moment. 

“Letting your clients fuck you?” His hand wraps around your middle and pulls you up and against, grunting into your ear. “You always do this?”

You couldn’t even answer when you feel him press his cock down and between your legs. So fucking thick. 

“Go on, look.” He demands against your ear, holding you still against him with his arm as he slides between your folds. You look down to see the head of his cock peeking from between your legs and the image alone had you feeling gagged.

When you moan out at the image, you hear him chuckle against your ear and then you feel him pull his hips back, angling himself perfectly so that he can slide his cock into you. 

In one long, languid thrust, you feel the entirety of him. You can hear his sigh against you, and feel his hand tighten around your middle when he bottoms out. 

His cock is so thick, pulsing inside of you and weeping out thick pre-cum, only offering more to the wet you drench him in. 

“Ah, listen to that–” He says, releasing your middle and slamming his hips back and forward just a few times to let the sound of how wet you are echo under the music. “So wet for the money, hm?” He continues, now pressing you into the cushions of the couch, knowing you’ll soon be biting against the fabric. 

You hum against the cushions, rolling your eyes back at the delicious feeling of him paired with his voice. 

“Or is it for me?” He asks now, voice coming out in a low rumble as he slams his hips into you repeatedly with deep pushes and sharp drags. 

You nod again, almost frantically as you lift yourself to grip onto the back of the couch, and when you turn your head to look behind you, Jay is almost glaring at you with that same devilish smirk on his face. 

Almost as if, even if he’s losing all that money, he’s fucking winning right now. 

 You watch his neck tense when he throws his head back with a drawn-out moan shortly after, and he doesn’t stop. He snaps his hips so quickly, and fucks into you so hard that all you can do is let out small whimpers each time the head of his cock hits a soft spot inside of you.

And when he doubles over you, using his other hand to stretch your panties impossibly far to the side, lying his head against your shoulder, you can tell he’s losing his composure too.

He’s so cocky, but goddamn is it nice to feel a man like this lose composure because of your pussy.

 His hips stutter in and out of you and his breathing is heavy, fingers gripping both of your ass cheeks and spreading them every few seconds only to release them and watch them bounce together before slapping hard against the flesh.

“Can’t believe you’re spread out for me right now,” He moans out as he reaches his hand up and swipes his hair out of his face, and then his hips snap back into you sharply. Almost pointed.

“Knew you would be too, I saw the way you looked at me baby– you wanted it too.” He breathes out with each thrust, as if he knew he would have you under him someday, you don’t argue. If you had met Jay on the street and he hit on you, you’d be far too easy for him to capture. 

“Don’t ever let another man do this for you–” He moans out now, amazed by how tight your cunt is around him. 

Truly, and not even trying to be rude, he genuinely didn’t think you’d feel this fucking strangled against his cock. It’s perfect. He wants to lay claim so fucking bad, and so, he fucks harder, quicker. 

“Don’t ever let another man pay for this pussy.” 

You nod with a strangled moan, struggling to keep your grip on the couch with his weight on you when he leans forward, pressing his chest to your back. 

“I’ll stop showing up.” He threatens. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He continues to talk, hunched over you, fucking you just right while gripping both of your tips in that slutty bra you’re wearing. 

And before you can even answer in a whimper, a cry, or a moan, you feel his cock pulse inside of you. Seemingly fucking you until he’s empty only because you feel it happen. He releases himself inside of you, cumming spurts of thick white ropes against your quivering walls. 

Right then, he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back and against him and holding you so tightly in place. All you can do is sit still for him, cockwarming him through his orgasm as you try to speak. 

“You wouldn’t be able to stay away anyway–” You try to be snide through the pleasure of feeling his cum bubble out of you. “Look at how fast you came.”

He snarls first at your comment, only to chuckle as he orgasm comes to an end. Truly the sounds he made to your comment were so fucking erotic, you almost can’t imagine ever letting another man do this anyway. For some reason, having Jay act all possessive over you is much less offensive anyway, compared to the other men who would probably try this with you. 

You don’t see it as him assuming you’re a woman who would allow just any man to have sex with her for money, anyway. You think he knew he’d be able to pull it off. Though, if that weren’t the case, it wouldn’t be any of his fucking business anyway. 

If anything, you decide that he gets possessive when his cock is fucking, and you feel kinda glad that you were the one he picked. 

Not kinda. Actually, you’re fucking over the moon over it. 

The fact that the man cumming inside of you is the man all of the girls want to dance for makes you feel like you’re the prettiest woman in the world. His money is attractive, but god, the way he fucks is somehow more enticing. You wouldn’t mind doing it again, and again, and again. 

And when he finishes and pulls out of you, all he does is slide your panties back to their rightful place and gives your pussy a little tap, as if to comfort you into keeping his cum inside of you for safe keeping. 

And yeah, he knows you didn't cum but to be fair, as much as he would have loved giving you an orgasm, your pussy felt too good for him to stop. Perhaps you’ll call for him to return the favor? Who knows? (God, he hopes you do.)

By the time he’s sat back on the couch, allowing you to lounge against him as you catch your breath, he’s already pulling out his wallet.

“I don’t carry cash.” He says, pulling out a card. “At least not half a million worth, so, just take this.” 

He hopes you take note of what he’s doing. After all, the club has an ATM, he could always just make a couple of transactions for this. 

You look at him wide-eyed, seeing the black card he holds out to you.  He's actually paying you? You didn’t think he’d really give you half a million, seeing as how much you enjoyed that? Being paid for sex isn’t actually something you do. 

Then again, he’s paying for breaking the rules, not for fucking you. 

“You’re just going to give me your card?” You laugh, raising a brow in confusion. “I could go way over the limit?”

“You wouldn’t.” He shrugs first, and laughs second. “You won’t.”

Taking the card into your hand, it feels much heavier than any credit card you’ve ever held. 

“No, really. You can’t just give me your card.” You laugh, tossing it back at him.

“Says who?” He looks at you seriously this time. “If I don’t see you again, I’ll just report you for fraud.”

He’s being fucking serious? Genuinely? 

“Jay–” You try to scold him, but he doesn't let you.

“Just take the damn card.” He demands, standing to his feet and ruffling his hair with a breath. “Don’t embarrass me more by not taking it.” 

“Embarrass you?” You ask, looking at the card and the way he just leaves it lying against the couch. 

Almost as if, if you don’t take it, someone else will.

“Listen, I don’t normally do this.” He trails off, feeling the post-nut guilt. “The least I can do is hold up my end of the deal.”

“This is your credit card.” You still try to argue with him, turning to watch him walk towards the door. 

“Don’t use it then. Just give it back to me when I see you again.”

You watch him reach for the doorknob. 

“Saturday?” You ask.

“Saturday.”

And then he’s gone, and you’re five hundred thousand dollars richer, somehow.

[loves4yukio]

Unspoken Desires

Negan x F!Reader

Summary : You consistently rejected Negan's romantic advances because you didn't wish to become another one of his conquests. You avoid him as much as you could, but things became more intricate when he revealed his sole interest in you and no one else.

Warnings (18+) : SMUT, age gap (you are in your 20's and Negan is in his mid-late 40's), swearing, fingering, vaginal sex, dom!Negan, secret relationship, no use of y/n, mentions of sex (?) — I'm not sure what to put, so if you have any advice, I'll take it.

Word count : 5k6

You endured what felt like the most draining day of your existence. Your time outdoors alongside Simon, engaging in a lengthy run, exceeded the usual duration, leads you to return later than anticipated to the Sanctuary — where you seek solace in the privacy of your bedroom. Shedding your work attire, you exchanged it for the comfort of shorts and a cozy sweater, an outfit suited for rest. Seated at your desk, you embarked upon the task of drafting the expedition report, as mandated by Negan.

You toil in silence, engrossed in the task, driven by your yearning to assimilate into the community and meet Negan's expectations. When you're at last content with the outcome, you glance up from your desk, eyeing the time displayed on the clock. 'It's getting late, I need a break,' you muse. The alluring temptation of watching a movie, an idea often suggested by Negan, tempted you irresistibly.

As a recent addition to the Saviors, you had caught Negan's profound interest, the reasons for which remained a mystery to you. On numerous occasions, you found his intense gaze fixed upon you, his signature smile accompanying his playful, suggestive banter. The effect it had on you was undeniable, stirring an internal storm you couldn't easily dismiss.

Occasionally, you yielded to his allure, but it always left you in self-reproach, retreating into seclusion and creating distance. Negan always persisted, unwilling to swiftly relinquish his grasp on you. He was resolute, refusing to let you go to another.

Negan was known for his ladies' man side. He already had six wives by his side. Negan being Negan, he had proposed you become one of them, but you persistently declined, knowing it wouldn’t bring you joy. Yet, here you found yourself, part of his inner circle and laboring under his directives. This didn't deter him from the amusement of seducing you, sending your senses spinning — a pleasure he relished, especially the moments when you'd bite your lip each time he whispered something dirty in your ear.

Satisfied with the task's completion, you left your chambers, strolling silently through the corridor of the floor designated for Negan and his wives. You had the liberty to wander there at will, given your residence on that floor — Negan had made it clear that the floor was as much your abode as his and his wives'.

As you lingered in the room's alcove, the soft hum of the television reached your ears. Despite the dimness, the silhouettes on the couch were distinguishable. For a fleeting moment, you observed Negan and a few of his wives holding each other tenderly, their forms intertwined in a embrace.

This simple yet profound sight stirred a tumult of emotions within you. While relieved not to be entangled in Negan's romantic affairs, you couldn't stifle the growing pangs of jealousy. Negan embodied the epitome of your ideal man : handsome, funny, sociable and seemingly damn good at sex. Some nights, the sounds of their cries of pleasures echoed through the corridors upstairs, teasing a tale of their intimate rendezvous.

With the utmost care, you glided across the floor, your steps hushed to avoid disrupting their tranquility. Neither of them caught a glimpse of your passing silhouette ; such was your stealth. Arriving in the kitchen, you prepared a light snack, allowing the gentle whir of the refrigerator to fill the space.

Within the serene hush of the living room, where the dimmed lights cast the room in a veil of darkness, an aged cowboy movie flickered on the screen. Negan slumped on the generous couch, a soft sigh escaping him as Frankie sought solace against his shoulder. A fleeting moment of quiet ensued until one of them decided to shatter the silence.

“Has she returned from work ?” Sherry inquired on your behalf, arching an eyebrow, her attention diverted from the movie flickering on the television.

Shifting his gaze toward her, Negan emitted a noncommittal sound, almost an 'I dunno,' just before ensnaring her in a kiss filled with such fervor that it deterred her from pursuing the topic. Using it as a diversion, he let his hand slide down her back, the touch lingering on the black fabric of her dress, seeking more intimate contact.

“I'll be back, I'll fetch us some snacks. I'm feeling a bit peckish,” Amber murmured, beginning to withdraw from the group. However, Negan's hand swiftly seized her thigh, wordlessly commanding her to remain where she was.

“You're not fucking going anywhere, darling. I've got this covered, ladies,” Negan declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a final surreptitious kiss, seizing Frankie's jaw for a change, he rose to make his way towards the kitchen, where he finds you. Unnoticed by you, he seized the chance to gaze at you, slyly running his tongue over his lips.

Deep in thought, you positioned the containers on the kitchen counter. When you eventually faced him, you briefly glanced away, continuing your preparations ; as if focusing on the task could banish the persistent memories clouding your mind. Negan picked up on your deliberate actions, earning one of his trademark, smug smiles.

“How long have you been here, sweetheart ?” His question sliced through the air, his tone betraying no notice of the tension that crept into your body upon hearing his voice.

“Not too long. I just came down,” you responded, daring to meet his gaze once more.

Observing him move around the central cabinet, selecting a variety of nuts to fill a small dish, he paused in his desire to approach the refrigerator, positioning himself behind you. He pressed your form gently against the counter, allowing his weight to meld with yours. His warm breath danced across the curve of your neck as his lips drew close to your ear.

“Aren't you joining us ?” he inquired, planting tender kisses against your soft skin, echoing a familiarity from moments when you were alone.

Your gaze remained evasive, yet inwardly, you pondered the wisdom of joining them in the living room. The situation was already taut with tension, and you hesitated to further complicate matters. On one hand, the desire to spend time with them lingered, but on the other, an apprehension loomed — an uncertainty of what might unfold, beyond your control.

“I'm not sure that's wise, Negan,” you murmured softly, breathlessly.

“Smart enough to handle it, darlin',” Negan replied with a sly smirk, dismissing your concern.

He remained silent, his hazel eyes fixed upon you in quiet contemplation. Your body tingled under his fleeting touch, heightening the feverish sensation as he grazed against you. Carefully tearing open a bag of chips, you delicately poured a portion into a bowl, then turned to present it to him.

“Here. I wouldn't want you to miss the movie because of me,” you said, offering an innocent smile.

The warmth and tenderness of your presence felt soothing, as though it seamlessly melded with his, an indelible union. With each step, he sought to intoxicate himself within this fleeting moment, wishing it could linger a little longer. Ceasing the intimate connection by turning towards him brought a sense of discomfort to Negan, especially when he was reveling in the closeness.

His hands mirrored your actions as you turned to face him, his countenance etched with seriousness, his unwavering gaze fixed upon you. Lifting the bowl of chips you'd prepared, he wordlessly returned it to the counter, observing you as if something unusual was unfolding. His scrutiny delved deep, as though attempting to decipher the depths of your soul.

“Then go to your room,” his words sliced the air, unexpectedly severe, nearly cutting.

His stare posed a challenge, urging you to venture beyond the ordinary. It was no longer just about the movie, and you were acutely aware of this shift. He was testing you.

Your brow arched in response to his intense scrutiny, granting him permission to draw nearer. You felt defenseless, adrift, and utterly powerless. His husky voice only added to your sense of unease. It was absurd how effortlessly you seemed to be losing your self-possession, akin to a fragile leaf that could be easily crumpled in his grasp. The very notion made your heart race within your chest.

Enveloped by the weight of his penetrating gaze, you hesitated to even reach out to touch him. You found yourself silently studying him, attempting to decipher the cryptic undertone of his words. Tilting your head ever so slightly, you cast a swift, cautious glance around, ensuring no prying eyes were upon you, before returning your focus to him.

He stood before you, a commanding presence, his unwavering, intense gaze fixed upon you. Was it even your place to be standing alongside them ? You blinked, releasing a breath as you succumbed to the overwhelming closeness. It might have appeared peculiar, perhaps even self-centered, but you would have preferred if his wives were absent. It could have been the attraction you felt toward Negan… or for some undisclosed reason.

“Must I, really ?” you blurted in a voice barely louder than a whisper, surrendering to the game. “Seems to me like you're eager for my company. Don't you ?”

“Oh, you think so, huh ? You don't have a damn clue about the game you're playing, sweetheart.”

His lips, once momentarily dry, became moistened by a subtle lick, accentuating his wolfish grin. Your hips were gently pressed against the counter's edge, his eyes traversing your form, observing your casual attire. Despite the room's darkness, his gaze fixated upon you, brimming with unwavering attention.

Within moments, you leaned against the nearby furniture, settling there while maintaining an unbroken gaze with him. Negan briefly scanned the kitchen's entrance before redirecting his focus back to you. Ensnared under his intense scrutiny, you found yourself entranced, incapable of averting your eyes from the fervor of his. Each step he took toward you sent shivers down your spine, accelerating the rhythm of your heart. Your breaths grew shallower, the atmosphere thick with an electric charge.

“Don't start something that you can't finish,” he moved a step nearer.

“Who said I couldn't see it through ?” you retorted mischievously.

Negan moved with a predator's intent, every step bringing him closer to you until he stood mere inches away. In that suspended moment, it felt as though time had halted, the world vanishing to leave only the confined space that separated the two of you. The passing seconds dragged by, laden with anticipation, until he loomed over you, finally capturing your face in a firm yet gentle hold, drawing it close to his. His intense gaze traced every curve of your eyes and lips, as if they beckoned to him.

As his fingers secured your face, a soft moan escaped your lips, lost amidst the hollow of his kiss. The ensuing embrace was fervent, ablaze with passion, and you responded with the entirety of the longing you held for him. However, Negan aimed to tantalize you, so he permitted the kiss to endure for just a few moments, kindling a flame within you and intensifying your longing for more. Releasing a frustrated sigh, you felt an intense longing — an unquenched fire that left you parched.

“Now there's a spot on the couch waiting for your pretty ass,” he remarked, letting you go. With a bottle of liquor and the two snack bowls in hand, he strode away, leaving you behind.

Returning to the living room, the movie played on, and he seamlessly carried on watching it, feigning normalcy by exchanging a kiss with one of his wives. It was disquieting to witness the charade of his role as the perfect husband with them, all the while engaging in infidelity with you.

“Screw me…” you muttered under your breath before exiting the room, carrying your tray toward the living area.

Sherry arched a curious eyebrow upon witnessing you arrange the appetizers on the coffee table, casually taking a few pistachios as she passed by. Unaware of your true intent, she observed you taking a seat on the sofa — pretending to concentrate fully on the movie playing on the television. It was then that she realized you intended to join them in watching the film.

With a glass of whiskey in hand, Negan slipped off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, observing your approach without quite meeting your gaze. Amber perched at the edge of the sofa, indulging in the snacks from the bowls.

Leaning behind Amber — careful not to touch her, Negan reached out with his leather-clad hand toward you. His fingers delicately slipped under your sweater, making direct contact with your skin, absentmindedly caressing it without averting his eyes from the television. You attempted to divert your attention to the screen, as though nothing had transpired. Nevertheless, your body responded intensely to his tender caresses, the sensation mingling with the remnants of his previous kiss, drawing you closer, yearning for more contact.

With every delicate rise of his fingers, it was as if you were engulfed in an irresistible yet tormenting inferno. Despite the turmoil within, an appearance of composure had to be maintained, a guise of indifference. His actions appeared effortless, his focus fixed on the screen, while his touch crept higher and higher, only to smoothly readjust as Amber settled in between you on the couch. He cleared his throat, flashing his characteristic shit-eating grin.

The movie merely served as a facade, concealing the true currents swirling in the room. The tension became almost suffocating, an unspoken magnetism pulling at your souls, yet no one acknowledged the brewing tempest, recklessly dancing with fire. The intensity between you both had swelled to an almost tangible thickness, enough to be sliced through with the sharpest blade. You cast a feverish glance toward Frankie, prompting her to sit upright, sensing the charged atmosphere.

“I think I'm ready for bed,” Frankie whispered a little suddenly.

“Same, I'm getting really sleepy,” Amber added.

“Mhm, I'm heading off too. Try not to stay up too late, guys,” Sherry said as she followed the other two women.

“Sleep tight, ladies,” Negan's parting was sealed with a tender kiss to each of the women, yet his unwavering gaze remained locked with yours. He was aware of your watchful gaze and took the opportunity to playfully tease you.

They dispersed into the solace of their individual chambers, melting into the shadows. While maintaining a facade of attention towards the television, he covertly tracked their movements until he was certain of your seclusion. Then, he turned toward you, a silent entreaty woven into the language of his gaze, beckoning you closer as if the very essence of his being yearned for your nearness.

“Come here,” he murmurs, gesturing with his raised arm to offer you space beside him.

You edged closer to his inviting warmth, shifting on the couch to draw nearer. The instant you nestled against him, his embrace enveloped you. His fingertips ventured down your back, making tender contact with your skin, a delicate dance of caresses. Nestled comfortably against him, your head found a cozy perch upon his shoulder, basking in the tenderness of his touch. His actions lulled you, evoking a melting sensation within.

“What's runnin' through that head of yours, darlin' ?” he murmurs in your direction.

The gentle strokes ceased. His hand settled on the curve of your lower back, doing nothing more but imprinting an imperceptible memory of his tender touch upon your skin. Negan's actions seemed deliberate, as if he sought to ignite a response within you, desiring to witness your own initiative, rather than taking the lead himself. In his ideal scenario, your body would have already be over his, seeking warmth. He harbored vivid images of it, yearning for what he'd envisioned on countless evenings.

“I don't know,” you exhaled, your words barely audible, your gaze unwaveringly locked with his. “About everything, and nothing at all.”

“I'll be damned, sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice a velvety rasp, “Uncertainty can be a wicked thing, can't it ? Everything and yet nothin', all wrapped up in one pretty package.”

The TV volume remained low, affording him the chance to catch any stray sounds. He was vigilant, ever mindful of his wives who, despite retiring to their rooms, could unexpectedly intrude at any instant. Negan wasn't particularly concerned about being caught in a passionate liaison with a woman ; if it were solely up to him, he'd fuck you right there on the balcony in front of everyone, demonstrating to all that you belonged to him. But it was more for your sake that he wished to avoid it — he knew you probably wouldn't want to be seen sharing sex with him.

A hush settled in the room as you rose, resting your hand on his chest. Your heart stubbornly refused to slow down while the background movie appeared to have lost its significance. Your gaze fixated on Negan's figure, captivated by the intensity of his dark, engulfing eyes.

“You need to stop giving me that look, Negan,” you stated.

“I can't help it if you bring out that look in me, sweetheart,” he replied, his lips curved in a smirk.

Slowly, your eyes traced his features, observing every detail from his lashes to the salt and pepper shade of his beard. Perching up on your knees, you take a careful glance around the room to make sure there was no one there. Assured of the privacy, you descended slowly, draping a leg over his, finally settling atop him, your breaths growing unsteady.

“You look like you're about to devour me on the spot,” you exhaled, sensing his body tensing beneath you.

“Well, babydoll, can't blame you for feeling a little nervous with ol' Negan here.”

His gaze narrowed, intensifying as curiosity and amusement danced within his eyes. Eager to discover the path of your actions, he deliberately halted even the subtlest of gestures toward you. And his anticipation was met. You placed your hands on each side of his shoulders, the contact of your pelvis against his eliciting a gasp of your mouth.

“Negan, I— Oh, for fuck's sake…” you blurt out, leaning in, nearly pressing against him.

“Seems cat's got someone's tongue, huh,” Negan chuckles, softly grazing your chin with his gloved hand.

Flushed with heat, you gently traced your fingers along his pristine white t-shirt, tucking the edges to sense his warmth against your fingers. Surprisingly, your boldness seemed to gratify him. Without delay, his hands found their way to your thighs, embracing your skin before gliding down to your hips, drawing you nearer. He bent his legs, pulling you close as possible, as if ensnaring you within his desires.

“Mhmm, that's it, keep it up, sweetheart. Just. Like. That.” his raspy voice growled.

The tension between you amplified with the gentle touch of his fingers caressing your skin, accompanied by his satisfied, teasing smile. Swiftly, he seizes your face, drawing you in for a direct and passionate kiss. Your lips eagerly met his, an urgent yearning manifesting as if they had craved this union for an eternity.

Enthralled by the passion conveyed in that kiss, he reasserted his hold on your hips, drawing the weight of your pelvis closer to his in an almost covetous manner. Every inch of your body responded to the fervor. Suppressing his profound yearnings for so long, he yielded, allowing his hands to trail along your curves. A sigh slipped from your lips at the sensation. His touch ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, grasping your ass firmly. His action was almost too abrupt, considering how controlled it had been until now.

You were no longer the master of your actions, a mere observer of your own surrender. Unable to resist any longer, you yielded to the urge, shedding your suffocating sweater in a desperate attempt to ease the fire consuming your body. It seemed unbelievable that such a scene was unfolding, you that fighting valiantly against the tide of temptation, determined not to succumb.

Your breath mirrored his, swift and erratic, as your hands slipped beneath his t-shirt. Your fingers, curious and explorative, roamed across his skin, entwining in the few hairs as if seeking to uncover every secret of this uncharted territory.

Your lips sought out his cheek, trailing a series of kisses along the contour of his jaw. A soft sigh escaped you at the tantalizing touch of his beard against your lips, and you closed your eyes, imagining the sensation of it grazing between your thighs. The journey of kisses halted upon reaching the hollow of his neck. Gazing up at him, your eyes deepened with a smoldering intensity, betraying the fervent desire coursing through you.

“Doll, staring at me like that makes me as hard as a rock,” Negan teases, a sly grin dancing on his face.

“Oh, hush.”

Your tongue lazely passed over your lips as your sweater cascaded to the wayside. An almost involuntary movement drew your pelvis toward a search for friction, yearning to stoke the burgeoning flame deep within. Negan's hand clasped your jaw, a means of asserting dominance. He seized your lips in an intense kiss as you sought another after removing your sweater — an interlude far too fleeting for his taste to let it end there.

Having severed the kiss, having imbued it with the bittersweet flavor of his longing, he gently drew you back, his hand anchored to your face. In the subdued room, his gaze nearly disclosed a hint of regret for not being able to explore the contour of your chest more intimately. He indulged in the delight of relishing a closer sensation by letting his fingers glide from your neck to the delicate curve of one of your breasts, tenderly caressing it.

"Damn, babydoll, look at you. So damn sexy," Negan rumbled in a husky tone, his words carrying a mix of admiration and appreciation for what he was seeing — what he was feeling.

In the pursuit of evoking a reaction from your body, he persisted in his caress, his index finger accompanied by his middle finger captivating the tip of your mound to make it harden further. Allowing his lips to envelop your flesh button, he began to gently suckle, his hand cupping and kneading your second breast while his other hand glided down your back, drawing you nearer to him, as if such closeness were even possible. Simultaneously, he urged you to continue the friction that your pelvis created against his, while beneath the thick fabric of his gray trousers, his growing member was already palpable.

You sensed your heart pounding against your chest, sending tremors through your entire being. The passion ignited such a fervor, inducing a wetness between your thighs that heightened with each subtle motion against his bulge. As he worked on the first reddened mound, he shifted his attention to the second, prolonging the intimacy without breaking away. His hand, departing from the comforting warmth of your skin, ventured further, becoming more invasive as it found its place between your thighs.

You let out a soft sigh as his hands grazed your fevered skin. In touch with the cloth of your shorts, he effortlessly detected your moisture with a gentle, deliberate press. His smile brushed against your skin, teasing your hardening bud as he intensified the caress of his fingers against your welcoming depths, eliciting you a moan that sent shivers down his spine.

“So fucking wet for me,” he murmurs huskily, his words brushing against your skin.

Each shift of your body against his made you acutely aware of his hardness pressing against your lower abdomen, igniting vivid, consuming thoughts. His words and the sensations from his hands evoked a swarm of butterflies in your chest.

Passionate, moist kisses lingered on your lips, easing your sighs into delicate moans. Struggling to keep your responses in check, aiming not to draw the attention of his wives — who, you prayed, were sound asleep in their chambers, only served to heighten your fevered state. As the kisses deepened, you glanced down to witness the unfolding intimacy between you. The sensation was wet and intoxicating, a feeling you adored, yet it failed to satiate your longing ; you craved more, like an ache that consumed you.

Once more, your hands ventured under his t-shirt, gradually raising it to uncover his tonic abdomen amidst the subdued light of the television. As your hands glided around him, ascending his back to help disrobe him, your hips resumed their movement, driven by the burgeoning passion stirring within you.

You let out a hiss as your thighs quivered around him, feeling the discomfort of your shorts. Using your fingertips, you eventually made it to the edge of his pants, playfully tugging them down intermittently while seeking his approval through eye contact.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Negan exhaled deeply, smirking against your jaw.

He snarled and moved aside your damp underwear. Your desires were explicit, needing no further communication for him to comprehend your needs. He grazed his finger along your sensitive areas, savoring the sounds escaping your lips. Sensing your hands clutching his shoulders, he starts tracing circular motions around your nerve bundle, causing you to writhe on top of him.

“W-Wait,” you managed to say, widening your eyes, a surge of pleasure building as he persisted.

“Shh, let me take care of you. Cum for me,” he responded, prompting your release against his hand. “You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he praised you.

He lapped at your juices greedily on his fingers, revealing in the taste of your arousal. Encircling his arm around your delicate form, he effortlessly maneuvered to switch your positions, laying you on your side. You yielded without protest, sinking into the cushioned comfort of the sofa.

Leaning against the cushions with one arm, he stood tall above you and leaned in for a passionate kiss, his other hand swiftly pulling away the last garment covering your body, exposing you to the open air. Without needing assistance, he tore away your panties and eager to remove his own pants and boxers, freeing himself.

As you shared a kiss, he momentarily paused to collect saliva on his hand, which he used to moisten himself, locking eyes with you intensely. There was no turning back for both of you.

“Negan,” you gasp, a fervent ache consuming you.

“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg me,” he demands.

“Negan, please… I want you so bad,” you murmur in a quivering, warm tone near his ear, your eyes growing heavier as your bodies press together.

Grasping his girth, he glides it along your folds, teasing before exerting pressure to breach your intimacy. A guttural sound escapes his throat as he leans back, relishing the feeling of penetrating you. Despite the discomfort, you tremble, releasing a stifled moan as he tantalizes your wetness with his thumb. Retracting, he positions himself on his knees, guiding his member with a few deliberate movements.

Clasping your thighs firmly, he drew you nearer by lifting your knees towards his chest, seeking better access to your intimacy. His thumb moistened your entrance with your own secretions before he tease you with the head of his cock. He shifted above you, covering your lips with his own to stifle your sounds as he smoothly entered you, his pelvis slamming against yours.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with your racing heartbeat as your fingers gently wandered through the tangle of his dark locks at the back of his head. The tension surrounding you was so consuming that you lost awareness of your surroundings and any potential consequences of your actions.

When you sensed his entrance, your body instinctively arched and stiffened. Your face tensed as you tried to adjust to this new sensation. Gradually, you acclimated to his presence, and in a suggestive move, you raised your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist, signaling your desire for him to continue.

Gripping the sofa, he lifted your face abruptly, stifling a deep groan that resonated in his throat. The way your body arched upon his possession, the tightening of your flesh around him, heightened the rush of blood in his veins. Slowly, he eased into a series of gentle pelvic movements.

It was a captivating sight, leaving you breathless as you finally sensed his motion inside you. A thin film of sweat adorned your skin, and the heat brought a flush to your face, framed by damp strands of hair. Negan couldn't help but marvel at how perfect you looked in that moment — like a goddess who had descended from the heavens just for him.

His movements were restrained, as he aimed to find more space, all the while displaying a sense of self-control. This tenderness was not typical of his character. However, when Negan lifted his gaze to study your expressions and the fervor they revealed, he permitted himself to quicken his pace. Beginning softly and then progressively intensifying, causing your body to shift beneath him. His hand turned to silence your mouth, and his grunts intensified in your ear.

“You feel so good,” he moaned between a few strokes.

The manner in which his pelvis met yours left no room for evasion. This subtle motion that swept you along drove you to the edge, even though it was merely the start. You ultimately found the delight, the one veiled within your unspoken desires, beneath your garments, in the recesses of your intimacy. Each of your cries was subdued, to avoid raising any doubts and the movie, its credits scrolling on the screen, was no longer a cover for you.

“Tell me. Tell me you fucking belong to me, dollface,” he murmured, planting kisses along your collarbone before biting your earlobe, leaning in as he demanded, “Say it.”

“Fuck—,” you muttered, turning your face to meet his gaze.

You found yourself laughing nervously at every motion, electrified by the exquisite sensations that regularly coursed through you. Your legs clung to him while your hands had sought solace on his back. Your body quivered and molded around his larger frame.

“Say it,” he insisted, picking up his speed, surpassing the intensity he'd shown before.

“Yours. Only yours !” you gasped as you sensed him accelerating, feeling your muscles tightening around him.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. All mine,” he snarled, his voice dripping like honey.

A hush enveloped the surroundings, broken only by the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting and the partially muted expressions of pleasure that conveyed the intense experience shared between you — and the need to stifle the impending cries pulsating within you nearly propelled you over the edge. Consumed by the moment, you disregarded any concerns about potential listeners, focusing solely on the overwhelming sensation that enveloped you.

A knot formed within you as a distant door creaked open, signifying the departure of one of Negan's wives from her room. The mere idea prompted you to stiffen. But Negan firmly held your hips, intensifying his pace, propelling you closer to the brink of climax.

“Hold on, there's somebody,” you gasp, confused by Negan's apparent indifference.

“It ain't an issue if there's company,” he declares, forcefully driving his hips against you.

“Negan I'm—,” you cursed, your hips rising to enhance the skin-to-skin connection. Your head arched backward, immersing you in a profound trance.

“Cum for me, baby,” he groaned, his voice husky with desire. “Show me how much you want it.”

Intense pleasure courses through your veins, compelling you to grasp his hair and arch your hips to meet his movements. His hold on your hips tightens like that of a ravenous creature, and you knew you would be bruised the next day, but in that moment, it doesn't matter.

Negan glided a hand down, teasing and stimulating your most sensitive spot with his thumb, propelling you closer to your next climax. The noises coming out of your throat as you came were the sexiest sounds he had ever heard and damn, it driving him wild. It's with one last powerful push, he poured himself into you, your bodies entwined in a dance of passion and desire.

“Fuck fuck fuuuck,” he spat, shutting his eyes.

He fell onto you, utterly drained. You both remained intertwined, allowing your still-warm bodies to linger in a comfortable silence. As you slowly regained awareness, the sound of the door closing snapped you out of your daze, and you were suddenly struck by the reality of the situation. Sensing your movement beneath him, Negan slowly rose, propping himself up with one arm.

“Did you just— ?” you halted, sensing a chilling atmosphere enveloping your core when Negan withdrew from you, appearing as bewildered as you felt.

“I didn't mean to. You made it hard for me with all this damn mess,” he breath. He seemed to hold himself responsible, hoping this error hadn't disrupted the beginning of your relationship. Truth be told, sleeping with you was a significant move in his plan to have you entirely for himself.

You fall into a moment of silence, still slightly affected by the intensity of your lovemaking. As you both prepare to dress, Negan, clad only in his boxers, catches your attempt to glance around the room. Interrupting, he requests you an another, gentler kiss. You find yourself smiling in the midst of this tender moment, momentarily forgetting your worries. Eventually, you begin to reassess your choice about joining his group of wives…

Maybe you should think about it again.

A/N : Thanks for reading ! And sorry for any grammatical or other mistakes, English is not my first language. If you have any fanfic requests regarding Jeffrey's characters, please feel free to ask — I'd be happy to write them for you <3

[wordstome]

the execution of lady jane grey

I got drunk and Tiktok showed me history_alice's video about this painting by Paul Delaroche. And since God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished, have some medieval executioner König x fem mc. Also, Lady Jane Grey was executed by Mary Tudor (Bloody Mary), not by Henry the VIIIth (the one with the six wives), but I blended the stories just because I can.

1.3k words

König doesn't ask questions.

It's never been his job to ask questions. The king points, and he does the dirty work. Most of the time, he takes pleasure in it: thieves, rapists, murderers, they all answer to his justice. And sure, a true loyal citizen might argue that he's simply enacting the king's justice, but it's König who swings the axe, is it not? In the end, König decides their fate.

In theory, anyway. In practice, this is simply his job. He keeps his head down and does what he's told. He stays quiet about the king's secret executions, the ones that happen in the dungeons instead of out in the open courtyard where the smallfolk gather to watch. It's hypocritical, honestly. They all look at König like he's a monster, some spectre of death among men, but when there's a public execution to be held, are they not the ones clamoring and pushing to be at the front?

There are some times when the king's executions are more...dubious. An advisor who voiced dissent one too many times. A thief stealing barley from the royal stables to feed his family, made an example of. A young man, just a boy really, accused of murdering four grown men���convenient, considering all four men's wives had been found in the king's bed at some point or another.

Those are the executions König prefers not to think about. The ones that haunt him in his dreams anyway. Those are the ones that make him yearn for his days in the army: when the people he killed were as faceless as his hood was to them, when he didn't know them and didn't have to think about the loved ones they left behind. König's never claimed to be a good person, the opposite in fact. But sometimes when he brings the blade down, he imagines a different, more royal neck on the block instead.

He feels this way now, as he watches her make her way to the block.

She's ethereal in her petticoat, the soft silken material reflecting what little light there is in the cold stone room and bathing her in a warm glow. Gentle and obedient into her own grave.

The king's wife. Sent to the block for treason, of all things. But everyone knows the truth: he's only killing this poor woman because he plots to put his latest mistress on the throne. Just a few weeks ago, this sweet young thing was the king's main obsession. She stood no chance at all, the daughter of a local lord currying favor with royalty. And now, she's being put to death through no fault of her own. The injustice grinds König's teeth, and takes his mind to a dark, dangerous place.

If she was his, he would never so much as let another woman cross his mind again. He's seen her about the palace grounds, with her beautiful bright eyes and lively smile, skirts trailing behind her like the tail feathers of an exotic bird. Just watching her had made him feel young again, no longer the brutish old soldier everyone averted their eyes from.

He's only spoken to her once, but he'll never forget it. He had been in her way, but she was the one who apologized. Most people would have seen the hood and backed away in fear, but not her. He watched, frozen and unable to say a single word, as she curtseyed and looked at him with, of all things, a shy curiosity. For one still, breathtaking moment, he held her gaze in his, and he felt like they were the last two people remaining on earth.

Then her lady in waiting had touched her on the elbow, and the spell was broken as they continued on their way. But König had never forgotten.

That same lady in waiting is here now, eyes puffy as she holds the queen's elaborate dress and jewelry in her lap. She had chosen to take it off, so as not to stain the expensive fabrics with her blood. How can she be so considerate of others, when the whole world has failed her so?

She turns to him, trembling like a little bird, and meets his gaze. The words come out before he can help himself.

"I beg your forgiveness," he blurts out, and almost immediately mentally scolds himself. What right does he have, of all people, to ask for her grace?

"Of course, sir," she says, her voice clear and sweet. Surely, he can't feel any more wretched than he does right now...and then she speaks again.

"I only pray you dispatch me quickly..." She turns a fearful eye to the wooden block, sitting almost innocently on top of the straw laid down to soak up her lifeblood. "Will...will you take it before I lay me down?"

"No, madam," he whispers.

She nods, and with a sudden streak of iron will, ties the blindfold about her head. König knows this is a kindness: she'll never see him coming. And yet his heart aches to see her cover up those beautiful eyes.

A loud sob comes out of the lady in waiting, watching her young mistress fumble around blindly. König's heart shatters when she lets out a little cry of confusion as the lieutenant of the prison rushes to hold her steady. "What shall I do? Where is it?"

König feels a sudden streak of anger, at the gentle way the lieutenant lowers her to the ground. The man clearly knows this is wrong, and yet will not lift a finger to help her.

Guilt strikes him yet again as he remembers that neither is he.

Or is he?

He stares down at her, this vulnerable little lamb sent to the slaughter, her pretty neck exposed for his blade, and he knows what he has to do.

The lady in waiting cries out in anguish as the blade lowers to the queen's head, causing her to gasp as the cold metal brushes against her skin. But instead of cutting her head off, König slices through her blindfold with a deft precision.

"What is the meaning of this?" The lieutenant demands as the queen scrambles from her kneeling position. König offers his arm, and she takes it, her hands warm against his sleeve as she stands up. The confusion is writ plain on her face, but her eyes shine with an innocent hope that only steels König's resolve.

"You," König says, pointing his axe at the lieutenant, who shuffles backwards nervously. "You will tell the king that she has been executed. If he asks for a body, find one: I don't care which one. And if you tell anyone what happened here today, I swear to you that I will water the earth with your blood, and the blood of every family member in your line." His eyes narrow at the lieutenant. "Do I make myself clear?" The man nods, stuck still with terror.

The queen's lady in waiting rushes forward, pressing jewels into her hands. "My lady, you will need these," she says urgently. "For wherever life takes you next." She gives König a determined look. "Take care of her, sir."

The queen's eyes go wide and round as she looks up at König. "I don't understand."

He kneels to her height, taking her hands in his. "I am taking you away from this place," he tells her, his voice low and urgent. "But you need to trust me."

She closes her eyes, and takes one deep, trembling breath before opening them again. "I trust you."

"Good." She yelps as he picks her up in his arms, hands instantly darting about his shoulders. "I am sorry, my lady, but we don't have much time."

She giggles, giggles, in his arms. "I don't mind," she says, with a mischievous little look that invites trouble. God, he is utterly fucked, isn't he?

"I can give you time, but not much," the lieutenant says. "Go!"

König doesn't need to be told twice.

To be honest with you, I have no idea what this is. I wrote this in, like. An hour. I think a demon possessed me. I don't think I'm going to write more of this au, but who knows!

@danibee33 @kneelingshadowsalome @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[tvseries-writings]

From a great power comes great responsibilities

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader

Plot: Reader goes beyond her limits with her powers to help others (exhausts her powers)

TW: death for a moment(?)

It all happens so fast that you don't realize it until the building starts collapsing over your heads. You see a chunk of concrete the size of a car fall on top of you, and before your brain can connect, your body acts on instinct, carrying you, Daisy, and Bobbi out of the building. You concentrate on teleporting all three of you, intact, inside the quinjet where Jemma, Natasha and Wanda are running the operation, or at least, were before everything went to hell.

You land on the floor of the plane with a thud, falling forward and coughing hard to expel the dust that has filled your lungs. You glance at your girls making sure they are okay and then, you cross your arms to teleport again but Natasha's hand on your left arm stops you.

"Don’t even think about it, everything is collapsing, you can't teleport in there. It is suicide and you are not going to save anyone if you are dead, do you understand me?"

You swallow, watching the building collapse, and so, with a small smile on your lips, you lean toward Natasha and kiss her. It lasts a few seconds and she is distracted enough to let go of her grip on you.

"I'm sorry but I have to do this," you whisper and then, you close your eyes and feel the earth vanish from under your feet. You focus on the 'one safe place inside the building that you know with absolute certainty will not collapse. The beauty of a secret Hydra base was the bunkers, after all. Those crazy fucking Nazis had thought that sacrificing at least a hundred of their own people was a fair price to pay to take out three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, and they had blown up the load-bearing walls of the building with a simple and very trivial click. Nazis, they never change.

When you open your eyes again and realize you are not dead or under some boulder, you gloat internally and mentally thank Natasha for forcing you to learn the floor plan of that base. You remember perfectly her stern look when she had presented you with the mission and forced you to learn every single detail by heart. At that moment you had hated it but now...now you really wanted to kiss her.

You raise your hands in the air when you notice a score of soldiers pointing their guns at you, hiding behind them their "incentives," as Hydra liked to call them. Wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers hid behind those men and women in black with a crest that did not belong to them.

"It's okay, I just want to get you out of here. I can teleport you all but in multiple groups."

You curse yourself internally, you know you'll never be able to take this much effort, the last time you tried to teleport five people together you fainted and were unconscious for six hours you can't even imagine what would happen with forty, including soldiers and families.

You take a deep breath and think quickly about how you can take everyone out of there. The floor under your feet trembles and just as the children begin to cry, the earpiece in your ear comes alive.

"Y/n, damn it, Daisy can't hold it much longer...you have to get out of there, do you hear me? The structure won't hold much longer" Bobbi yells in your ear and you nod, well aware that she cannot see you, before giving her a verbal response.

"I'm trying honey, thanks for the advice though."

You mumble sarcastically, no longer listening to what your girlfriends are shouting at you over the comms and focusing instead on getting the people in front of you to safety. The soldiers lower their weapons and pull off the bands on your arm, throwing them to the ground.

"Are there others in the base?"

"They're all dead, ma'am" the lieutenant, or who you think is the lieutenant, answers you by looking around as if to confirm what she just said. Your stomach clenches at the thought of all those people who died for a cause they didn't even believe in but you quickly shake off that feeling, you don't have time for it. You quickly count them, noting that there are twenty-five of them before thinking about how to get them all out of there safely.

"So… I can take all the children outside."

You point to the little ones; some of them are crying while others are looking at you with wide, fearful eyes but charged with the same admiration and hope with which a child looks at his favorite superhero. There are nine children but you can make it, they are worth four times one adult, right? You can even take four adults with you, then; you have to do it, you won't have the strength to make three more trips, you are sure.

You gather them around you and have each of them touch arms or legs, depending on where their little hands reach, and do the same with the four women, two old and two young, who accompany them. As they say, women and children first.

"Y/n, we have set up a camp out here, four hundred meters from the base in a southwesterly direction."

-What the hell is the South?" you think, before shrugging your shoulders and closing your eyes. The feeling of the floor vanishing beneath your feet is not something you will ever get used to, if you have to be honest. You hear the children scream, whether from excitement or fear you can't tell, and then, in less than a second, you find yourself at that poorly set up base camp Jemma told you about a few seconds ago. A little dizziness forces you to lean on the ground, on the hot sand beneath you, and small drops of blood color the grains beneath your fingers. You raise your hand, reaching up your nose and finding the source of the bleeding. Children are being rounded up by an officer but you fail to recognize him as your girlfriends run toward you. Jemma has a first aid kit in her hand, but before she can set about playing cheerful surgeon with you, you scan to the side, staggering on your own feet.

"I'm fine, I've got to get back in there."

"You can't stand y/n, you can't-"

You frown, noticing only in that moment that Daisy is not there with all of you.

"Where's Dee?"

"She fainted, tried to absorb as many shocks as possible. She's collapsed y/n and that's also what's going to happen to you if you continue, you're already in a very bad way."

Jemma lifts your head, causing your gazes to cross and looking critically at your pupils and the nosebleed that doesn't seem to have any intention of stopping coming out. You back away a few steps, looking into their eyes.

"Go to Daisy, I'll take care of this," you say and then disappear again.

You repeat the same process as before, surrounding yourself with six soldiers and watching the remaining six.

"I will come back for you, I promise."

And as you disappear into thin air, another tremor shakes the ground.

The landing is more abrupt this time. Your heart beats so weakly that you feel as if oxygen is not getting to your brain. Contrary to what you expected, Natasha grabs you by the arms before your face can splat on the scorching sand. You struggle to stay awake and if so out that you don't even notice Daisy, pale, sweaty, and trembling, over the shoulders of the former Russian spy. You blink a few times to focus on the image in front of you and finally the sounds reach your ears again.

"Y/N!"

Natasha shakes you by the shoulders and you awaken from your stupor. The worried gazes of Wanda, Jemma, Daisy, Natasha and Bobbi are fixed on you as Natasha gently lays you on the ground and Jemma places a bottle of water on your lips, helping you drink it. As soon as you remember where you are, you try to sit up but Daisy stops you, simply putting a hand on your chest to keep you down.

"I'm-I'm fine, mm-missing six people-D-I have to an-go."

You stammer, the effort you've put in doesn't even make you able to utter a coherent and clea sentence. Another jolt shakes the floor beneath your feet and Daisy groans in pain, bringing her hands to her head and squeezing her eyes shut. That small advantage allows you to roll over and with an absurd effort you manage to get to your feet and disappear back under their gazes.

When you get to the bunker, the first thing you do is fall to your knees and throw up. You completely empty your stomach under the disgusted gaze of the six soldiers in front of you. You wipe your mouth with your suit, wrinkling your nose at the disgusting taste of vomit in your mouth and leaning against the wall to pull yourself up without passing out. You must hold on a little longer, just a little, and then you can collapse to the ground.

The six soldiers surround you-diligently avoiding the pool of vomit on the ground and the blood that keeps coming out of your nose-and in a moment you are out.

As soon as you hit the sand, you sprawl to the ground. Your cheek scrapes against the sand and this time Natasha is not quick enough to catch you. Jemma drops to her knees next to you, turns you so that your face is facing her but your eyes are closed. She checks your chest and when she notices that the latter does not rise or fall, she checks your pulse before a gasp of terror and fear escapes her lips.

"Bobbi, adrenaline and defibrillator. Now!"

Natasha tilts your head back, her eyes glazed over as she opens your mouth and blows air into your lungs. Jemma begins compressions.

1,2,3,4,5

Nat puts air into your lungs and your chest rises and falls once before falling back inert. Wanda's sobs and Jemma's barely stifled ones are the only sound before a crack makes your girls nauseous.

"It's okay, it happens during compressions," Jemma's voice trembles as she says it and then, she performs another round of compressions. Your arms burn but that pain is nothing compared to the dull ache that is burning in your chest at that moment.

1,2,3,4,5

Natasha forces your chest up again and then Bobbi arrives with defibrillator and adrenaline in hand. She is sweating and her heart is racing. She has never run so fast in her entire life.

"Bobbi, take my place."

Jemma continues with compressions, then, on her go, Bobbi gets in place and follows her own rhythm.

"Come on rockstar, it's not your time yet, come on."

Bobbi's breath barely hides the tremor in her voice but not the tears that line her cheeks. It takes two defibrillator shocks before your heart starts beating again.

"Oh my God" Wanda bursts into tears, leaning over your face and gently kissing your forehead, brushing a few strands of sweaty hair off your face.

"Good, you did great love" Natasha whispers, taking your hand in her own as Bobbi laughs from relief.

Daisy instead stands by, frowning, and Jemma is the first to notice.

"Dee, what's wrong?"

Daisy looks at you and then, nods.

"Something's wrong, her heart, it doesn't have the usual vibes, non-"

And then, your heart stops beating again.

"Fuck, Bobbi give me the adrenaline."

Jemma Simmons never swears but there are always exceptions.

Jemma performs two more rounds of compressions before injecting adrenaline into your chest. She hooks you up to one of the monitors that Fitz had devised a few months earlier, at the request of the biochemist, for just such situations, and when he sees that the line remains flat, his heart, too, seems to stop for a few seconds.

Your body is shaken by the shock emitted by the defibrillator; it arches upward and then falls back to the sand as hard as a puppet whose strings have been suddenly dropped. The line remains flat and Jemma's tears now gush without limit.

"No no, Jem you have to try again. She can't, she can't..."

Wanda bursts into tears, looking at your lifeless body lying on the ground. Natasha punches the ground with such force that the crack that can be heard echoing cannot mean anything good. Bobbi cries as she takes the former Russian spy's hand and gives her a look. Anything not to think about what just happened.

"No, it doesn't end like that."

"Daisy...she-"

Daisy takes your lifeless body in her hands, shaking it by the shoulders.

"Do you understand me? You can't fucking die, you can't. You promised us, you stubborn idiot, you promised us!"

The Inhuman hits your chest hard, her fist closed, and without her really being able to control what she's doing, a powerful jolt goes through your chest and crashes against the ground, creating a small crack beneath you, and then, the flat line of the monitor disappears, replaced by regular little roller coasters.

"W-what?" Daisy whispers, sitting on the floor suddenly much more tired than before from the effort she has just made. Jemma hurries to personally check your pulse and when she feels the pulse under her fingers, a shuddering breath of joy leaves her lips.

"I...I think your tremors got her heart beating again Dee."

Jemma does not detach her fingers from your wrist, lulling herself into the sweet sensation of your heartbeat, albeit weak. Wanda covers her face, bursting into tears, and the other girls also let out a liberating cry, releasing all the tension and fear they had felt up to that moment.

...................................................................................................

Your body takes five days to heal just enough to open your eyes. You realize you are in the Quinjet's medical capsule within seconds, by now you have been there so many times over the years that you know the smallest details: the familiar beeping sound of your heartbeat, the red button to call Jemma just below the lamp behind the back of the bed, the IV that feeds drugs into your veins, and the glass from which Jemma checks that you are not doing anything the doctor has forbidden you to do. A little unfair of her since she is the doctor. You feel as if a truck has hit you and then a car has run over you to complete the job. You raise your hand to scratch your nose but the oxygen mask prevents you from doing so so you squeeze it between your fingers to remove it but just as you are about to do so, a hasty knock against the clear glass causes you to smile a small smile of exasperation. Even before you turn around, in fact, you already know that you will see your beautiful doctor on the other side. To your surprise, however, she is not alone.

"You just woke up and already you want to take off your mask, I have no words really. Who is the doctor here? You have to do what I tell you if you want to get better, between you and Dais I really don't know who is worse."

Jemma admonishes you and you blush, feeling like a child being scolded by his parents.

"Hey, what do I have to do with this now?" Daisy pouts before slinging herself into your arms. You can't help but notice that his forearm is completely bandaged. When he notices where your gaze points, the Inhuman shrugs.

"It was worth it."

She slides the mask off your face, kissing you with so much passion and love that it leaves you breathless for a few seconds before the Inhuman promptly rushes to slip the mask back over your face.

"You scared us malyshka" Natasha approaches you and her plastered hand makes you frown. The Russian blushes, and for some reason you realize you don't really need to ask her how she broke her hand. Wanda caresses your cheek, leaving a tender kiss on your forehead.

"How are you feeling detka?"

"I'm just a little tired but I'm fine; exactly what happened?"

Their faces darken and that joy you had seen quickly fades.

"You collapsed, your heart couldn't take the strain, and we had to revive you twice." Bobbi's voice trembles as she says this and you reach out your hand toward her; the blonde grabs it and intertwines your fingers, turning a small smile to you.

"You were really a rockstar but if you do that again, I think we might actually kill you."

"Oh yes, don't think we haven't thought about what punishment to give you. Besides not being able to use your powers for at least four months-"

"What? Four months? But that's an eternity-" you jerk back to your seat, removing your mask and immediately regretting it as your vision blurs and the pain in your ribs increases exponentially, so much so that you lean to the right and vomit into the only thing you can grab.

Jemma strokes your back while Wanda holds your hair as you empty the meager contents of your stomach. As soon as you finish, you are so weak that dizziness takes over and your head falls back forward. If it weren't for Wanda, your face would be splattered against the floor. Jemma casts a glance at the heart monitor, and the value it reads makes your heart beat so fast you're afraid your chest might explode. She puts on your oxygen mask and then checks your vitals again.

Your pupils roll back, and as you fall helpless into Wanda's arms, the Sokovian panics a little.

"Hey, hey, detka wake up."

Wanda taps your cheeks but the only thing that changes is the further lowering of your heart rate.

"Jem, what's going on?" Daisy strokes your face, putting her hand on your chest to check your heart vibrations.

Jemma rummages through the drawers of the medical capsule and then, at the fifth drawer she ravages for something, she finally finds what she is looking for. In her hands she clutches a small glass case, inside which she glimpses a metal disk less than three centimeters in diameter and less than two centimeters thick.

As soon as she sees this, Bobbi cuts off your suit exposing your bare chest except for the three electrodes and the black bra you are wearing.

Jemma places the diskette on top of your left breast, just above your sternum, and presses the button above it. The disc blends in with your skin, being invisible to the human eye, and your body jerks, before your heartbeat returns to normal. The small jolt causes you to open your eyes and grimace in pain.

"What the hell-" you mutter, reaching out to massage your chest but Jemma stops you before you can.

"Hey, your heart rate was extremely low and I had to put a pacemaker on you. It's not invasive, Fitz designed one that blends in perfectly and doesn't give any problems whatsoever but you'll have to avoid EMPs but you can't take it off love, okay? I think the effort you put in was such that it damaged your heart, and without a peacemaker you could have another heart attack so until we find another solution and until we have done more tests, you can't use your powers."

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as fatigue takes over.

"Rest now, we're here malyshka."

Natasha leaves a kiss in your hair while Daisy leaves one on your cheek. Jemma dims the lights to allow you to rest and Wanda lies next to you in the crib while Bobbi closes the glass curtains facing outward to give you all some privacy as you fall into dreamland surrounded by your girls.

You don't know it yet but one of those children you saved is going to become one of the best agents S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had so maybe a slightly battered heart is worth it.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Leave like, comment and if you like support me on ko-fi. Have a great day!

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirlfriend @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[preseriesdean]

for @spnficrecfest day six: case fics 🧡

Ions in the Ether by @nigeltde-fic 10.9k words, rated E, published 2019 When was the last time you trusted happy.

Gospel Truth by Cerberuss 15.2k words, rated E, published 2020 ‘DOES YOUR BROTHER KNOW THAT YOU WANT HIM?’ Individually placed letters, bold and tinged brown with the weather. Sam can’t look away and he prays, dream dream dream. This sort of introspection could have come from no one but himself. His secret, his affliction, on display as a reminder. He put this here. Don’t forget, Sam, you’re abhorrent. This is all you.

the constant vow by deadlybride / @zmediaoutlet 119.5k words, rated E, published 2022 With Crowley apparently dead and Sam's soul back in place, even though Eve is a worry and Castiel's fighting a heavenly war, Sam and Dean at last have some space to get back to what passes (for them) as a normal life. They've just finished up a pretty standard job and are killing time in snowy Wisconsin when Dean wakes up no longer looking like Dean. That's just the start of their problems.

Almost At Home by balefully 24.3k words, rated E, published 2008 Sam graduates from high school in early June in rural Tennessee. He and Dean start the summer with an all-nighter of celebration; the day after, while both fight hangovers, John calls to assign them their first hunt by themselves.

Suave & Complicated by OldToadWoman 56.9k words, rated E, published 2015 Sam and Dean discover a useful, little, magical artifact. No one is forcing them to do anything. No one is going to die if they don't. They don't even feel a strange compulsion. But… it would be really helpful if they powered up the magical stone… and… all they have to do is kiss.

Crossed Wires by @rivkat 10.9k words, rated E, published 2015, check warnings Dean thinks Sam is dead.

Yesterday, minnesota by @goshen-applecrumbledore 29.7k words, rated E, published 2022 Any initial awkwardness filtered away over a hundred miles of highway as Sam thumbed through the missing witch’s diary again. Some people had secret coke habits or secret second wives, and some people had passionate, pitch black, no-kissing sex with a family member every four to six months and never talked about it. You had to find ways to cope.

Sight Lines by kickflaw/kissyn 21.3k words, rated E, published 2012 Dad's on a hunt, Dean's acting strange, and Bilton, NY, is the last place on earth Sam imagined he would figure out how to make everything fit right.

They Then Ate the Sailors by coyotesuspect 24.3k words, rated M, published 2013 The summer before Sam leaves for Stanford, Sam and Dean sublet a student apartment in a heat-wave gripped Chicago. With John tied up with a case in Iowa City, Sam and Dean are left to figure what's behind a recent spate of drownings. Sam wrestles with the weight of the secret he's keeping from Dean, while Dean struggles with his feelings for Sam. Things come to a head when a young girl goes missing and Sam nearly drowns.

a thousand dreams within me softly burn by dooping_star 14.6k words, rated T, published 2020 "there is something fierce and terrible in me eligible to burst forth, i dare not tell it in words," - walt whitman, ‘earth, my likeness’, leaves of grass

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

Hi, today I offer you an nsfw Alphabet on Maegor Targaryen. I searched after an nsfw alphabet on it, but I didn’t find it, so I decided to create one.

Maegor will undoubtedly be a bit oc, but that’s how I like to imagine.

Ps: English is not my mother tongue and I write almost no content nsfw, I let myself go for him.

Ps 2: I would ask minors to not interact or read this, its only for Adult, thank you

Author’s note: Hello, I just corrected the biggest mistakes, in the text, my spell checker did the opposite of his job

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex.)

If you’re just a new wife, Maegor will get up quickly and leave your room at the end of your lovemaking. But if you managed to be more than that. He will stay, letting you snuggle up on his bare, still wet torso.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s.)

On him: it is arms and hands mainly, is a man sculpted by the fights, he is more than proud of himself, and of the way he manages to make you move to position you as he wishes makes him even more proud.

On you: Everything would be a very good choice, but to choose, your hands, more precisely, how your hands grip his hair during the act, and make him groan and moan.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.)

He likes to cum in you. It’s his favorite right, he wants an heir so much, that the simple idea of cumming in you makes him mad with desire.

D = Diry secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs.)

He has a hair kink, posing on him, he will never admit it, but he loves that you grab his hair while he is eating your pussy.

He would also love to fuck in the dragonpit, whether in a corner or in Balerion nest, he becomes hard to the idea.

He dreams that you give him a bowjob at one of the smallcouncil meetings, without anyone daring to say anything if they discover what is happening.

He’ll never admit it but he loves to eat your pussy

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what tryr're doing?)

With six wives before you, he has a lot of experience. He knows what he is doing, although at first he was only doing his business. With time and feelings. He will do everything he knows to give you pleasure. Even to learn new techniques.

F = Favourite Possition (This goes without saying.)

He love to fuck, so it’s pretty hard for him to pick a position.

But the cowgirl position, he likes it, see you on him, moving to give yourself pleasure, see the movement of your body, your breasts, how your movements become uncontrollable when you let go completely. He’ll never say no to you being on him.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the mombt' or are they humorius, etc.)

He is particularly serious, wanting at all costs an heir, he is even the kind to get angry with the least servant who came to disturb you by misfortune.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

As for what is between his legs, it is maintained, not shaved but slightly trimmed.

I like to imagine him with a hairy but not shaggy torso, his hair beyond the same color as his hair.

On you, he has no preference, hairy or not, he will be attracted by you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

He is not the most romantic, but he is more of the type to say softer words, to have more tender gestures when you help him get rid of his tensions, or if you can have children and is pregnant with him.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He has six wives plus you (seventh wife or not), if desire is too great, he will go to you to be able to solve the problem, if he finds himself far from one of you, he will solve the problem himself, in his tent, imagining one of your innumerable times together.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink is definitely one of his most dominant kink.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Everywhere, we talk about Maegor after all. He is the king, he can afford anything and he will do everything that goes through his head. On the iron throne? No need to say it twice. In a corner of the castle corridors late at night? He will kill anyone judging you. On Balerion’s back? Oh he’s excited about it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I may be a little too far but I would say. Everything. Whether it is this cleavage that shows the birth of your breasts, a return from a battle, an argument between you or against a lord or faith.

Your simple vision is make Maegor boiling and not in a bad way, but in desire.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

You are too precious to him, he will not do you anything that could hurt you too much, he has nothing against bdsm.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s more a receiver than a giver, your lips send him to the seventh heaven, but if you can convince him to give you pleasure in return... He’s a hungry man, devouring you with pleasure.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow ans sensual? etc.)

He can be both. But he’s kind of fast and hard paced. Although once he has feelings for you, he will be more likely to have a slower pace.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He lives for it. Even if he prefers to be able to workship you and be workshipped by you, he loves moments of tension, where the risk of being caught in the act by a guard or a servant, even a lord, makes the thing even more exciting.

R = Risk (Are the game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

In the first place, he is against, too proud to have to learn new things. But by spending his nights and days with you, he changes his mind little by little, accepting after a torrid negotiation under the duvet.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

2 or 3, depending on his condition, it could even last all night if it came to his mind, you just need not forget to hydrate yourself.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On un partenaire ou themselves?)

He thinks he doesn’t need it, too proud of what he’s got between his legs, but he’s not against using a few ropes on you

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

He likes to tease you, whether by his looks, his voice on he knows the effect it makes you, or by touche, he likes to see your look change, the position of your body, the fact that the more time passes, the more you seek contact with his body and the more it pleases him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He has a deep groan and moan, which make you shudder every time you fuck.

W = Wild card (Get a randol headcanon for the character of your choice)

When he comes back from a training with his knights, he likes that you wash him when he is in his bath, that your caresses are just chaste or more sensual, he loves when you caress his torso and the lower abdomen, that you tease him, leaving small kiss, on his neck, his initially calm breathing which slowly becomes faster and deeper, full of expectation and anticipation.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

It's proportional, he's a tall and muscular man. He has veins quite pronounced, especially one that starts from his balls at the base of his glans

So he’s big, and long but not too much, it fills you perfectly.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He's a beast of sex, it can last a whole night, in various positions, you are very often the first exhausted.

Z = ZZZ (… How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

At the beginning of your relationship, he left your room and went about his business or to sleep in his room, but the day you asked him to stay close to you, he was surprised, and without saying a word returned to bed.

Maegor is not the type to fall asleep directly after the act. But it can happen to him to fall asleep if it was particularly fiery.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

We’ll Always Have Chelsea

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, extremely protective father, angst, maybe some slut-shaming

A/N: Thank you for all the love you've shown this story! Let's consider this a "mid-season finale" of sorts. I'm currently working on the second half of this story, and once it's complete I'll resume posting it. Feel free to send asks and questions about the Chelsea!Roy universe in the meantime; it seriously keeps me motivated!

(And thank you to @kissykissymouth for the chapter title!)

“Let’s go, Roy-o!” you shrieked from your seat as the announcers called his name in those booming voices that echoed through the stadium.

Katie rolled her eyes playfully as she clapped along with the roaring crowd. “You are the most obvious human being I’ve ever met, you know that?”

“I can afford to be obvious now,” you said with a smile. When Katie quirked a curious eyebrow at you, you leaned in close. “He asked me to make things official last night.” You sounded like a silly little teenage girl, all giddy and delighted over a boy, and you didn’t care one bit. “To be his girlfriend. To stay together even after I’m back at uni. That whole thing.”

Her smile was soft and genuine. “Oh, that’s so great!” she gushed as she grabbed your hand. “Now we can plan some real double dates. Go out on the town, all four of us.” Her glee faded as she studied you for a moment. “But what about your-”

“We’re telling him after the match.” For the first time since Roy climbed back out your window in the early hours of the morning, you felt confident in the idea of telling your dad. This wasn’t just a summer fling anymore; it was something real, something that would hopefully last.

And your dad was going to have to figure out how to deal with it.

Katie let out a low whistle. “Well, good luck with that,” she hummed, giving your hand a squeeze. “Let me know if you need help planning Kent’s funeral.”

You gave her a friendly shove and turned your attention back to the pitch, not bothering to hide the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of Roy. In a few hours, your dad would know, and there would be no reason to keep anything a secret from anyone. You’d be able to come to every match and proudly wear Roy's name on your back, the way all the wives and girlfriends did, and wrap your arms around him when he emerged fresh from the showers. He could take you to post-match celebrations and charity events and any of the fabulous places a fella like him would take his girl. And you’d be able to bring him home, have him spend time with your family, properly introduce him to your mates.

As long as your dad didn’t kill Roy first.

~

After the match- a flawless 4-0 Chelsea victory, much to your relief- you lingered by Katie’s side to wait for the men to come out of the changing room. When was the last time your palms were this sweaty or your heart raced this fast? Every time a player walked out the door, your mouth went dry, wondering when it would be Roy. Somehow, you just knew that his sparkling brown eyes would be enough to calm all your nerves.

Jules emerged with a smirk on his face. After kissing his wife, he quirked an eyebrow at you. “Kent’s pretty jealous.”

“What makes you say that?” you huffed, pretending you weren’t utterly pleased at the mere mention of Roy's name.

Jules tugged on the sleeve of your kit playfully. “Apparently he doesn’t like that you wore my kit instead of his today.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Mumbled something about his girlfriend being unsupportive already.” His eyes shifted to a grinning Katie before returning to you. “Want to explain to me why the hell Kent’s calling you his girlfriend, princess?”

“Because she fucking is.” Roy smirked down at you, his fingertips twitching as he shot you a wink. “And at our next match, there better be a six on your back, gorgeous.”

You beamed up at him. “You were great today, Kent.” Fuck, you wished you could grab him and kiss that smirk. Next time, you promised yourself as the two of you batted your eyes at each other, probably making the married couple roll their own eyes. Next time you’d be wearing his kit, and you’d be able to greet him with a girlish squeal and a kiss. You’d get to finally be Roy Kent’s girl.

All you had to do was break the news to your dad.

“Your dad’s already in his press conference,” Roy murmured with raised eyebrows. “Should we… go wait in his office?”

There was that dryness in your throat again. “Yeah,” you managed, blinking rapidly. “Guess we should.” You offered Katie and Jules a tight smile. “We’ll see you guys later.”

“Good luck,” Katie called in a sing-song voice as you and Roy turned to walk down to the coaching offices.

Sure enough, your dad’s office was empty and dark. You flipped on the light and turned on his television, greeted by his face as he sat in front of the crowd of reporters. His normally stern expression was relaxed as he answered questions about the match, clearly glowing from such a great win. If there was ever a day to tell him that you were dating his completely off-limits star midfielder, it was today.

Roy leaned against the edge of your dad’s desk, next to the framed photo of you and your brother that sat by your dad’s computer. Roy took your hand and tugged you to stand close to him, pressing the tiniest kiss to your temple as his thumb stroked the back of your hand.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he whispered.

You gulped and nodded, keeping your eyes trained on your dad’s face. “I know.”

“-performed very well today,” your dad was saying as he picked up the water bottle that sat beside a microphone. “For goodness’ sake, the man scored two goals today. Don’t know what all this is about a slump. I hope all the fellas fall into this kind of a slump.” He chuckled good-naturedly and pointed off-camera. “Next question.”

“Moving on from today’s match,” a cautious voice called out. “Coach, what d’you have to say about those photos of Roy Kent and…” The reporter cleared his throat. “… your daughter?”

For a moment, your father’s face was bright red as he set down the unopened water bottle. “I’m sorry?”

Your blood ran cold while the reporter continued. “There are photos of them at a casino. They were with, uh, Jules and his wife.” He cleared his throat again. “They were quite cozy.”

“Fuck.” Roy squeezed your hand and tore his eyes away from the television. “I-”

“I don’t comment on my players’ private lives.” Your dad’s jaw was tight as he sat up at his full height. “Especially Roy Kent.” His laugh rang hollow in your ears. “If I commented on every rumor about that kid’s love life, I’d never have time to manage this team.” He moved to stand, not quite looking at the camera. “Now, if there’s no more football-related questions, I think we’re done here.”

Roy let out a low growl and switched the telly off. “Well, fuck.”

“You should leave,” you murmured, looking into Roy’s panicked eyes. “Seriously, Roy. This is so much worse than we thought. It might be better if you go.”

He shook his head. “Fuck no.” He let go of your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist. “We said we’re doing this together,” he said slowly. “So, we’re doing this together. I’m not going to be the kind of prick who runs away when things get hard.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “And this is going to be so fucking hard.”

The two of you flinched when you heard doors slam and feet stomping. Instinctively, Roy removed his hand from your hip, but he stayed close enough for you to feel his warmth. A smart move, you had to admit. A smarter move would be for him to run away from Stamford Bridge altogether, to never speak to you again, but you were glad he stayed. Something besides fear swelled in your heart when you realized that Roy was sticking by your side, even in the face of your father.

Your father, whose raised voice you could hear down the hall. “Where the hell is my kid? And where the fuck is Kent?”

Your entire body trembled as his footsteps came closer, finally stopping in front of the open door of his office. His eyes widened when he took in the sight of you, standing far too close to Roy Kent in the office that held framed photos of your childhood and crayon drawings from over a decade ago. He stormed in, ignoring you in favor of grabbing Roy by his t-shirt.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Kent?” he barked. “All the fucking models and actresses in London, and you decide to shag my daughter?”

Roy shook his head frantically, hands up in defense. “Coach, it’s not like that-”

“Get the fuck out, Kent.” He released Roy and pointed to the door. “Before I take a real good look at your contract.”

You found your voice. “Daddy,” you said shakily. “Roy’s not going anywhere.” You reached down and intertwined your fingers with Roy's, ignoring the player's wide eyes. “We’re dating, Dad. Me and Roy.” You gave Roy’s hand a squeeze. “We-”

“One rule.” Your dad’s voice was low, filled with anger. “I had one rule for you hanging around here. No. Footballers.” He pointed at Roy. “Especially that one.” He shook his head at you. “What were you thinking?"

“I’m thinking I care about Roy and he cares about me.” You gripped Roy’s hand like it was a lifesaver. “And I’m thinking I’m an adult. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t date. I’m not sixteen anymore.”

Your dad’s eyes were full of rage and pain as he stared at you, looking at you like you were a complete stranger. “You’re sure acting sixteen, sneaking around behind my back.” He shook his head, eyeing Roy with disgust. “But you’re right. You’re apparently all grown up now. Do what the fuck you want.” He grabbed his bag from behind his desk and made his way to the door. “Besides, you’ll be back at school soon enough.” His gaze was steely, lacking any of the usual affection he sent your way. “And Kent’ll be back to his normal self. Once you're gone, he'll be right back to his models. Maybe then you’ll realize I was right about him all along.”

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782@dd122004dd@veryprairieberry@spacecluster@dark-academia-slut@her-fandom-sanctum@wosokirby @mmmgl29 @aadu2173

[jaidens]

pumpkin spice latte w/ extra whip and carmel w/ my baby rooster 😋😋 also completly disregard this plot if you want but seeing rooster after he’s been away yk at top gun for a while so r surprises him >:)))

And want you now, wanna need you forever In the heat of your electric touch, mm-mm

pairing [s] : bradley bradshaw x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : crying, making out, sex |

a/n [s] : my baby doll dal 🫶 requests are open!

It had been six continuous months without seeing your Bradley in real life. The scent of his cologne and musk had disappeared from your bed and his pillow, causing you to go after anything that has reminded you of him. Whenever you were invited to visit him in Top Gun after they were given a three-week break after a joyous win, you decided to immediately take it.

Deciding to not tell Bradley had killed you, as you watched him through the FaceTime call as he slept in a lonely house by himself. You told him your phone was getting repairs to cover up your five hour flight to where he was drafted, it worked surprisingly well. The flight was long, but your discount with it has given you First-Class seats with many helps from flight attendants to try and help your experiences.

When you landed in hot and humid, San Diego you were almost immediately dehydrated. You had called Penny and Maverick to pick you up from the airport, begging to keep everything a secret. Surprisingly, they kept it quiet and Pete told you he had told them he was taking Penny on a date tonight. The nerves were messing with your head as you mess with the hem of your (Bradley’s) Hawaiian shirt. It was a light and soft pink color, and you swore it looked better on him than it did you. Bradley would disagree, saying it was his favorite shirt you had worn.

“Hot as hell here, jeez.” You joke flapping a piece of paper against your face to try and cool yourself down. Even with the extreme cold air blasting on your face, sweat had still dripped from you. You couldn't tell if it was the nerves in your head about seeing Bradley, or the heat. If you had to assume it had probably been both electives. “I know. Bradley pretty much is shirtless half of the time. I’m tired of it.” Amy says next to you, tapping on her phone.

You laugh as you think of Bradley, who is extremely typical to get naked when it's over 95 degrees outside. You decided to call Jessica, Hangman's long-term girlfriend who had also decided to surprise her big hunk of man on the same day as you. She told you how the pilots were meeting at The Hard Deck and how most of the Navy wives were doing the same. You agreed with her and told Penny and Maverick to take you there for him.

Suddenly it all started to hit you: You would see Bradley in under three minutes after months of missing, crying, and taking screenshots of him on the phone. Maverick pulls into the sandy deck of the bar and parks the car. He looks in the mirror and looks at you. “You ready, kid?” He asks and you nod, opening the door and following after the older woman who had already been walking in. The bar wasn't that crowded, only having pilots and other people that had gotten off of work earlier. It was five o'clock when you landed, so now it was six.

The bar is playing some eighties hits loudly, some rowdy people dancing around with drinks in their hands. You touch yourself up in your phone camera, take a big breath in, and start walking into the back corner of the bar where the pilots stayed. That's whenever you saw Bradley, whooping and hollering about winning the 8-ball game with Phoenix and Bob. Jake and Jessica are rubbing up against each other, kissing and hugging on every second, looking like high school couples in the hallways.

You walk up behind Bradley and when he bends over to hit a ball, you slam up behind and put your hands in the front pockets of his 1980s Levi's jeans. “Wanna teach me how to play?” You tease and Bradley jumps up and wraps you in his arms. His hand goes to the back of your neck and he practically jumps while practically screaming your name in pure and utter excitement at your presence.

“You didn't tell me you were coming!” He pulls away for a second to look at your face, before pulling you back in and wrapping harder around your body. The feeling envelopes you tightly and you feel the need to melt in his arms. “It's a surprise, dummy. Are you surprised?” You ask and now he's nodding quickly before he drops you down and kisses you harshly. His lips are running across you as he pulls you into a bench in the other corner.

“Am I surprised? Of course!” He says sassily at you and brings you back into a deep kiss, his hand messing with the hem of your Hawaiian shirt and the other against your neck as he holds you up in the kiss with him. He's warm and touchy throughout the sweet moment and he takes like a Cranberry Vodka. “Love you, so much.”

“Awh, I love you too honey.” Your hand runs through his fluffy hair that's been lightened from hours of sun, and you stare at this tan skin with freckles littering against his cheeks and nose. His fingers mess with the rips on your shorts and he kisses against your cheek. “God, I missed you so much.” Jessica waves at you and giggles as Jake kisses her away from attention. You laugh at his antics before Bradley pulls your chin and kisses you once more, and you stare into his deep green eyes.

“Thank you for visiting, so much.” Bradley speaks softly in your ear. “Always, and forever when I can.”

[thevelaryons]

SEAWHORES

A certain interesting detail when it comes to Velaryon men is that many of them are noted to be sexually promiscuous, or so the histories claim.

CORLYS

He is described as carrying on a secret affair for several years:

In his Testimony, the fool puts forth the notion that “the little mice” had been sired not by the Sea Snake’s son, but by the Sea Snake himself. Lord Corlys did not share Ser Laenor’s erotic predispositions, he points out, and the Hull shipyards were like unto a second home to him, whereas his son visited them less frequently. Princess Rhaenys, his wife, had the fiery temperament of many Targaryens, Mushroom says, and would not have taken kindly to her lord husband fathering bastards on a girl half her age, and a shipwright’s daughter besides. Therefore his lordship had prudently ended his “shipyard trysts” with Mouse after Alyn’s birth, commanding her to keep her boys far from court.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

LAENOR

Regarding Laenor, it's worth mentioning that he had a harem (though Joffrey Lonmouth was clearly the most favoured one out of the pretty boys whose company Laenor enjoyed):

Laenor Velaryon was now nineteen years of age, yet had never shown any interest in women. Instead he surrounded himself with handsome squires of his own age, and was said to prefer their company.

— Fire & Blood, Heirs of the Dragon

Then there is Laenor's confrontation with his lover turned killer, Qarl Correy. Laenor was said to be courting someone else behind Qarl's back. According to the eye witness accounts from Spicetown, Qarl was seen angrily arguing with Laenor before their confrontation turned violent:

Septon Eustace provides us with the killer’s name and declares jealousy the motive for the slaying; Laenor Velaryon had grown weary of Ser Qarl’s companionship and had grown enamored of a new favorite, a handsome young squire of six-and-ten.

— Fire & Blood, Heirs of the Dragon

JACAERYS

Rumour has it Jace had an affair during his trip to Winterfell. Whether it's true or false though is open to debate:

His account introduces a young maiden, or “wolf girl” as he dubs her, with the name of Sara Snow. So smitten was Prince Jacaerys with this creature, a bastard daughter of the late Lord Rickon Stark, that he lay with her of a night.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

That's not the only rumour surrounding Jace. His trip to the Vale also circulated rumours concerning Jeyne Arryn:

Mushroom tells us that this famous maiden was in truth a highborn harlot with a voracious appetite for men, and gives us a salacious tale of how she offered Prince Jacaerys the allegiance of the Vale only if he could bring her to her climax with his tongue.

— Fire & Blood, The Dying of the Dragons

ALYN

Speaking of rumours, Alyn certainly has his share of them:

Lord Alyn required fresh water and provisions for his ships, whilst Princess Aliandra required services of a more intimate nature. Bastard Born would have us believe that he provided them, Hard as Oak that he did not.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

When he did, the “Queen” was so delighted with him that he sent two of his wives to Oakenfist’s bedchamber that night. “Give them sons,” Racallio commanded. “I want sons as brave and strong as you.” Our sources are at odds as to whether or not Lord Alyn did as he was bid.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

A woman known only as Rue, who may or may not have been a septa, and may or may not have become one of his lordship’s paramours.

— Fire & Blood, Under the Regents

“She was the fairest treasure of the Maidenvault. Lord Oakenfist the great admiral lost his heart to her, though he was married to another.”

— A Feast for Crows, Jaime I

LUCERYS (the Admiral)

Although we don't get any direct quote about his private affairs, it seems to be implied that Aurane is his bastard son alongside his trueborn son, Monford. Well Lucerys can't have pulled that bastard out of a bed of kelp. Clearly he fucks too.

[vi-sigoth]

The plan is. I will construct a device to trap thousands of Swifties into an arena while Taylor is performing. They will be taken, sent to various farms around North America and Europe, and made to detox from birth-control, and put to work, plowing, shearing sheep, mucking out stalls, cooking, and various other things. At the end of six months, the farmers get first pick of them as wives. The rest will be introduced to various other tradies, who they will be delighted to meet because their bodies are now rid of birth-control hormones and not directing them towards disgusting little Harry Styles-esque rat men. The ones that were the most annoying during their farming stint will be given to drywallers to learn humility. The white race is saved. The government is so thankful that they pass a law that Victoria’s Secret finally has to start making bras small enough to fit me.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!!!!! I just got into good omens and this hyperfixation is going ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. Ive been reading so many fics from yall thank u ❤️❤️ i was wondering if u could req some lesbian/wlw aziraphale ? :P

Hello! You can check out our #ineffable wives tag for fics already recommended. Here are some more to add...

wanna witness your eyes looking by izzyhandsgf (E)

"How could someone so unbearably holy commit such sins in the most beautiful way?" ----------------------------- Or, Aziraphale and Crowley meet in the 1930s, fem-presenting, and both are slightly overcome by their feelings for one another...

I stretch out the time (and now I know why) by Nix_Nihili (T)

I should pull back, Crowley thought. She should pull back because she was the one with the fork in her mouth that Aziraphale was holding. Aziraphale wouldn’t pull back because that would be rude so Crowley had to pull back. Pull back. Crowley swallowed the cake down and pushed herself away because that was what she did. Push and pull. Six thousand years of pushing and pulling. God, did it ever end? - Crowley finds Aziraphale on a fateful night for the first time since 1941. They haven't seen each other since but something has changed in the past two decades. or Something definitely happened between 1941 and 1967 to warrant the "You go too fast for me, Crowley" comment.

“I thought that I was getting better.” | Setbacks by die_traumerei (T)

Aziraphale is already having a rough time of it, when her new neighbour Crowley's cats trip her up and the inevitable happens. She and Crowley becomes friends, though, and more than friends -- and a good thing too, as Aziraphale faces one setback after another.

Herefordshire Pomona by Eigon (T)

I was reading Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (which is excellent, btw) and also thinking about the advice to "write what you know", so I started daydreaming about how the goat farmer meets literature professor scenario would transfer to Herefordshire. Aziraphale was easy - a bookseller in Hay-on-Wye, the Town of Books. I've put her shop where Green Ink Books is now, which used to be a multi-level shop, with a flat above. Crowley - well, that became obvious pretty quickly, too - instead of goats, apples. Herefordshire has a lot of old orchards, and I used to know a lady from the Marcher Apple Network, which identifies old apple varieties, and works to preserve them. And I wanted it to be Ineffable Wives, because I had so much fun writing the Old West story Secret Friendship (which is a boring name, but I couldn't think up a better one).

strange workings of fate by skyflyerr (E)

Aziraphale sat down gently and let her feet that didn’t quite touch the floor dangle from the stool. “Would you spare enough time for one glass with me?” Aziraphale watched her turn and look a little taken aback at the notion of her being here. Maybe this was a bad idea. “With you, darling? I can make the time. I’m a woman of my word, if anything.” *** Crowley is a bartender and Aziraphale is still figuring out the bookshop. Both are utterly lonely and winter is coming quick. Maybe they could keep each other warm.

Dance Me to the End of Love by Black_Bentley (E)

In general, Crowley would very much like to see the ones who hurt her grovelling at her feet, experiencing her pain and fear. But Lucifer’s plan is... well, it far surpasses what she considers ‘getting a revenge’ falling wildly into wreaking complete havoc and destroying innocent lives as collateral damage. Most importantly, that puts her dearest friend in danger. And she is to bring the proverbial cuckoo into the Celestial nest. OR: Aziraphale is a ballet dancer for the British Celestial Ballet Company, which grooms its perfect 'angels' from childhood Crowley used to dance for them too, but after they literally kicked her out, she took on pole-dancing for the Nine Circles of Hell Nightclub Its owner, who used to be the Celestial Ballet's star, is ready to take his revenge on the company's Director (referred to by its 'angels' as Mother) and chooses Crowley to enact it by forcing her to deal a brand new drug among the ballet dancers.

- Mod D

[maegorsbignaturals]

hey the maegor big hairy tiddy art happened to end up on my dash and after going through the reblogs I think you're the one most suited to fulfill the following genuine and heartfelt request

please explain the maegor fandom to me

Hey, no worries! I Know how strange it might be to see a fandom specifically to this character that is rightfully an AH.

So, the Maegor fandom can be break in three archetypes of people:

The first one is the ones who think of Maegor as a Chad-sigma type of character who is just villanified but he was actually so cool and it was a misunderstood hero on a bad tell story. They see him as a hero for ending the faith's armament and pushing Ceryse aside for being a EvIL HiGhTowEr (SOMETIMES this people mix with the team black fans) and that with their whole chest think Maegor's children were poisoned by Tyanna because he was a stud that bedded two women in the same night and had six wives and that he was some kind of sex-god. They Ignore that even if the disarmament of the faith was something good to westeros, it was more of a "even a broken clock gets the hour right twice a day" type of movement of his part, or an opportunist thing to do given how many problems the faith was giving him. Plus they also ignore that some of the edicts he made against the faith took down some innocent people with them. Rememeber when Maegor paid money to anyone that bringed him the scalp of a Warrior's son but most of it was of innocent people? or his severed heads that were said to be of poor fellows but most of it was of innocent smallfolk? Yeah, me too. Most of this type can be found on reddit, FB or even twitter

2. The second type is the x reader type of ficker. Most of them could be Dark romance readers and attracted to Maegor's looks (not blaming them tough) decide to insert themselves into the texts and make their relationships with Maegor the type of "Cold and dangerous guy who hates everyone but this one particular girl". This type may vary between each other because some get this really romanticized version of Maegor and others don't, so you get a lot of interpretations of this man. Once i readed a x reader post about a Yandere Maegor with a Pregnant special one that after she gave birth he did not gave a fuck about her and only had her as a baby machine an i was like...yeah, i suppose this gets really close to the cannon. Other's doesn't really vibe with being x reader but still like Maegor as a dark romance kind of guy and so they pair him with Rhaena making them a Daemon/Rhaenyra kind of relationship. You can find them here in tumblr, twitter, fb and wattpad and AO3.

3. And the third one is the ones who do not vibe with Maegor's disney-like evilness. They aknowledge he did evil things (Rhaena's character arc will never stop hurting) and they think hey, yeah, Maegor was a deeply fucked up guy but WHY was he an evil fucked up guy? They enjoy nothing more than examining him under a magnifying glass, if they could disect him and do a vivisection at him, they would do it.

Now, here is the thing, you can AND WILL find this specimen mixed because humans are not only one thing but multiple things at once. Take me as the example, i like to think Maegor was not born to usurp Aenys as most may think, but as a SUPPORT to him. but i also have an oc to do selfshipp with Maegor (Kudos to Beqqo the jester to living rent free on my mind). You can find an X reader ficker that knows Maegor was a BAD person but still enjoys him. It may vary in what spaces you are, yet, the thing that unites us is THE LOVE we have for Maegor as a character. And you may think, why do you love a character that made such horrible things? And that is a secret weapon called "Characters are tools not stances of who you are as a person", when reading Fire and Blood i don't think "DAMN George must really hate women" but as a "Well, this bad things that happen to women it is to show that feudalism and monarchy are systems where women are treated as ultimate tools to keep power and have not real power other that the one lent from men to them"

[seeinganewlight]

2024 books read

2024 goal: 150 books

january: 1 - heartstopper vol. 1 → alice oseman (reread) 2 - heartstopper vol. 2 → alice oseman (reread) 3 - heartstopper vol. 3 → alice oseman (reread) 4 - heartstopper vol. 4 → alice oseman (reread) 5 - heartstopper vol. 5 → alice oseman 6 - a fragile enchantment → allison saft 7 - some shall break → ellie marney (audiobook) 8 - only if you're lucky → stacy willingham (arc) 9 - over my dead body: a witchy graphic novel → sweeney boo 10 - notes on an execution → danya kukafka (physical & audiobook) 11 - murder on the orient express → agatha christie (reread) 12 - our wives under the sea → julia armfield (physical & audiobook) 13 - the invocations → krystal sutherland (arc) 14 - red string theory → lauren kung jessen 15 - the breakup tour → emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka (arc) 16 - the name drop → susan lee 17 - the secret of the old clock → carolyn keene (reread) 18 - bright young women → jessica knoll (audiobook) 19 - last call at the local → sarah grunder ruiz (audiobook) 20 - no one can know → kate alice marshall

february: 21 - worst wingman ever → abby jimenez 22 - drop, cover, and hold on → jasmine guillory 23 - with any luck → ashley poston 24 - the atlas six → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 25 - that's not my name → megan lally 26 - not here to stay friends → kaitlyn hill 27 - this golden state → marit weisenberg 28 - today tonight tomorrow → rachel lynn solomon (reread, annotation) 29 - past present future → rachel lynn solomon (arc, annotation) 30 - the atlas paradox → olivie blake (reread, audiobook) 31 - the guest list → lucy foley (audiobook) 32 - in the market for murder → t.e. kinsey (audiobook) 33 - the neighbor favor → kristina forest 34 - in the mix → mandy gonzalez 35 - everyone in my family has killed someone → benjamin stevenson 36 - the seven year slip → ashley poston 37 - veronica ruiz breaks the bank → elle cosimano (audiobook) 38 - finlay donovan rolls the dice → elle cosimano (audiobook) 39 - the simmonds house kills → meaghan dwyer (arc)

march: 40 - the mysterious case of the alperton angels → janice hallett 41 - the book of cold cases → simone st. james 42 - what the river knows → isabel ibañez (audiobook) 43 - cut loose! → ali stroker & stacy davidowitz 44 - how i'll kill you → ren destefano 45 - the reappearance of rachel price → holly jackson (arc) 46 - when no one is watching → alyssa cole (audiobook) 47 - outofshapeworthlessloser: a memoir of figure skating, f*cking up, and figuring it out → gracie gold (audiobook) 48 - julius caesar → william shakespeare (rerad, audiobook) 49 - the family plot → megan collins (audiobook) 50 - if we were villains → m.l. rio (reread) 51 - alone with you in the ether → olivie blake (physical & audiobook) 52 - disappearance at devil's rock → paul tremblay (audiobook)

april: 53 - shakespeare: romeo and juliet graphic novel → martin powell & eva cabrera 54 - shakespeare: macbeth graphic novel → martin powell & f. daniel perez 55 - shakespeare: julius caesar graphic novel → carl bown & eduardo garcia 56 - shakespeare: a midsummer night's dream graphic novel → nel yomtov & berenice muniz 57 - twelfth knight → alexene farol follmuth (arc) 58 - kill for me, kill for you → steve cavanagh 59 - murder road → simone st. james 60 - everyone on this train is a suspect → benjamin stevenson 61 - listen for the lie → amy tintera 62 - king cheer → molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, jamie green 63 - twelfth night (musical adaptation) → kwame kwei-armah & shaina taub 64 - in juliet's garden → judy elliot mcdonald 65 - fat ham → james ijames 66 - death by shakespeare → philip l. nicholas, jr 67 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread) 68 - good girl, bad blood → holly jackson (reread) 69 - as good as dead → holly jackson (reread) 70 - dark corners → megan goldin (audiobook) 71 - the one that got away with murder → trish lundy (audiobook) 72 - funny story → emily henry 73 - imogen says nothing → aditi brennan kapil 74 - people we meet on vacation → emily henry (audiobook, reread)

may: 75 - episode thirteen → craig dilouie 76 - the girls i've been → tess sharpe (reread) 77 - the girl in question → tess sharpe (arc) 78 - wild about you → kaitlyn hill (arc) 79 - just for the summer → abby jimenez 80 - my best friend's exorcism → grady hendrix 81 - second first date → rachel lynn solomon 82 - the ballad of darcy & russell → morgan matson 83 - the good, the bad, and the aunties → jesse q. sutanto (audiobook) 84 - truly, madly, deeply → alexandria bellefleur 85 - your blood, my bones → kelly andrew 86 - amy & roger's epic detour → morgan matson (reread) 87 - romancing mister bridgerton → julia quinn (reread) 88 - the viscount who loved me → julia quinn (reread) 89 - bittersweet in the hollow → kate pearsall 90 - to sir phillip, with love → julia quinn (reread) 91 - when he was wicked → julia quinn (reread) 92 - it's in his kiss → julia quinn (reread) 93 - on the way to the wedding → julia quinn (audiobook, reread) 94 - emma → jane austen (audiobook, reread)

june: 95 - first lie wins → ashley elston 96 - we got the beat → jenna miller 97 - firekeeper's daughter → angeline boulley 98 - chlorine → jade song (audiobook) 99 - what stalks among us → sarah hollowell 100 - hollow fires → samira ahmed (audiobook) 101 - part of your world → abby jimenez 102 - the road trip → beth o'leary 103 - yours truly → abby jimenez 104 - finally fitz → marisa kanter 105 - the last love song → kalie holford

july: 106 - dead girls walking → sami ellis (audiobook) 107 - home is where the bodies are → jeneva rose 108 - we used to live here → marcus kliewer 109 - the children on the hill → jennifer mcmahon (audiobook) 110 - what moves the dead → t. kingfisher 111 - my throat an open grave → tori bovalino 112 - dashed → amanda quain (arc) 113 - asking for a friend → kara h.l. chen (arc) 114 - beach read → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 115 - book lovers → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 116 - happy place → emily henry (reread, audiobook) 117 - you have a match → emma lord (reread, annotation) 118 - bonnie & clyde musical script → ivan menchell (reread) 119 - such charming liars → karen m. mcmanus (arc) 120 - she left → stacie grey (audiobook) 121 - let the games begin → rufaro faith mazarura (audiobook) 122 - death at morning house → maureen johnson (arc)

august: 123 - cleat cute → meryl wilsner (audiobook) 124 - i wish you would → eva des lauriers 125 - the break-up pact → emma lord (arc) 126 - water for elephants → sara gruen 127 - when you get the chance → emma lord (reread, annotation) 128 - come out, come out → natalie c. parker (arc) 129 - my lady jane → cynthia hand, brodi ashton, jodi meadows 130 - the lies of alma blackwell → amanda glaze (arc)

september: 131 - the spare room → andra bartz 132 - late bloomer → mazey eddings (audiobook) 133 - savor it → tarah dewitt (audiobook) 134 - triple sec → t.j. alexander (audiobook) 135 - the skeleton key → erin kelly 136 - the examiner → janice hallett (arc) 137 - the dark we know → wen-yi lee (audiobook) 138 - pretty girls → karin slaughter 139 - a good girl's guide to murder → holly jackson (reread, annotation) 140 - lady macbeth → ava reid 141 - the pumpkin spice café → laurie gilmore 142 - the main character → jaclyn goldis (audiobook) 143 - queen macbeth → val mcdermid (arc)

[zahri-melitor]

Like, NOTABLE features of the Secret Six 'Found Family' dynamics include:

Bane deciding that Scandal needs a father figure that's not Vandal, appointing himself to the position and treating her like a teenager, much to Scandal's general disgust

Ragdoll's friendship/relationship with Parademon being heavily based in weird kinks developed from their separate horrific childhoods.

Jeannette acting as a madam for Scandal and Scandal just supplying whatever Jeannette wants in a very 'best friends who are exes' manner.

Floyd and Thomas perpetually flipping between combative buddies to 'violent arguments' to 'seriously can the UST dial any higher?' and then going off to sleep with a woman to work out their feelings.

Black Alice deciding that Ragdoll is a safe person to practice having a crush on in the most emo way possible. She thinks she's being so adult and edgy too!

The rest of the team being like 'we seem to have acquired a niece. Do we actually have any obligation to keep her out of trouble? No? Righto, keep up Lori.'

Thomas and Jade being at each other's throats constantly except for when they are literally in bed together.

Floyd Lawton, the extremely divorced, who simultaneously is extremely loving about his wives and daughter and also appears to perceive sex as being messy when people bring emotions into it.

The entire Scandal/Kay/Liana triangle.