#emerald bruises

[sandythereadingcafe]

REVIEW:

EMERALD BRUISES (The Jewelry Box 2) by Pepper Winters at The Reading Cafe:

'another dramatic, intense, soul-sucking, heart breaking and gut wrenching story offered up by Pepper Winters-the queen of ‘alternative’ romance'

[nomsfaultau]

Fun scenes from the newest chapter of Mandatory Family Reunion

In which things get worse. Which could describe literally every chapter. Techno, surprisingly, does not handle learning what Phil has done to his 'parents' particularly well.

[amaranthineghost]

HE’S SO PRETTY WHEN HE GOES DOWN ON ME ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

charles goes down on her and she can't help but admire his pretty eyes staring back at her.

warnings: smut, mostly google translate french (highschool does NOT teach us how to talk dirty okay, bare with me)

author note: as much as I would've wanted to write this for lando, it HAS to be charles, and I feel like this is so different from my usual thought and emotion heavy writing! incoming charles obsession??? like if people requested imagines for him, I'D WRITE IT...

HIS GREEN EYES MIMICKED THE SHIMMER OF PALE EMERALD. sunlight peeked through the curtains, though in a few hours time, it would fall from its peak in the sky and the room would eventually begin to darken.

his biceps filled out the sleeves of his freshly-washed blue shirt, straight from the load of laundry she had done hours ago. veins like lightning under his tanned flesh to suggest his touch was rough, yet his callused hands were so gentle against her skin.

goosebumps crept across her body with every graze of his body on hers, every small breath against her ear as he mumbled something dirty to her in french. though she didn't know exactly what, she could pick up on the cognates between languages.

he tasted faintly of chapstick, her chapstick, that transferred from her lips to his as he couldn't keep off of her. with lips as swollen and pink as hers, he graced nearly every part of her body with his kiss. she was his oxygen and he was deprived.

but it was hard for him to ever be deprived, considering how even when they weren't in such a position, he was glued to her, hands grasping or resting at her sides and his breath down her neck.

when he'd reluctantly part from her sweet-tasting lips, his veined hand would snake down from the long strands of her hair in his palm, coming to rest on her jaw. prominent veins in his arms would indicate force was used to push her head up to expose the smooth skin of her neck and collarbone, yet his touch was tender.

still, he felt her gulp under his palm.

light trails of saliva from his kisses down her jaw to her collarbone and neck, leaving red marks of irritated skin that would later bruise.

he knew she wouldn't be able to cover it up. he nipped at her skin with the purpose of showing it off, and she could get him to stop if she really wanted. but she didn't want that.

the hand on her neck reminding her of the easy power he had over her, and how she loved the gentle dominance he displayed.

because it hadn't taken much convincing earlier to get her into their bedroom. despite it being midday, he wanted to take care of her, in more ways than one.

she didn't object, she wouldn't when he looked at her with those damn eyes. his strength and her weakness.

now laid on her back with his body looming over her, his knee between her legs to put pressure just enough, but still not satisfying the desperate need to have him. and yet they had both managed to stay clothed all up untill this moment.

kissing up the staircase, his hands grasped at her waist, hoisting her into his arms, and gotten them to where they were now.

the tension had been building with every step he took, his pretty eyes watching her squirm, though he was the one to be so eager to please her. he couldn't give a shit about himself.

disheveled hair and tired, green eyes while his greedy hands roamed down her clothes, grasping at the skin of her thighs. still, he took his time as he usually did with his hands over her body, memorizing every dip in her skin.

fingers teasing under the edge of her white laced tank, bumps rising on her stomach as the material rode up her torso. he watched her nipples harden through her top, feeling his sweatpants getting tighter as he watched her subtle reactions. subtle reactions that gave him more than a little confidence in his attempts to please her.

because if he didn't then what was his purpose of living if not to please her?

his eyes remained on her the entire time, even if hers didn't meet his. she felt the burning sensation of his gaze over her heated skin. desperation for him between her thighs became increasingly unbearable, she wanted him. she needed him.

but he always took his time. it was agonizing, but she always came hard because of it.

from teasing her barely exposed skin to massaging into her ribs, he watched her expression every step of the way. it was slow, as per usual, agonizing.

his hands finally found her breasts, gently squeezing the flesh in his palms while he circled her sensitive nipples with his thumbs, exerting small noises from her.

removing one hand momentarily, he pulled down the lace of her tank, leaving messy kisses down from her collarbone to her other breast. but he didn't give her that little satisfaction, not yet.

“shhhh, patience, mon amour,” he spoke with a rasp in his voice, muffled slightly as she felt the vibrations of his voice against the flesh of her breast.

fixing her top with his other hand still teasing her chest, his hand caressed her waist under her small shorts.

trailing down the joint of her hip, his fingers traveled slowly down to and along her inner thigh before dipping under the fabric of her shorts. he played with her panties, pulling the hem away from her slick cunt. she whined at the contact of air to her core.

he bit his lip at the sight of her, fuck she was gorgeous lying before him and so desperate for a simple touch of his hand.

his knuckles brushed over the wet patch - that he caused- on her underwear and she inhaled a sharp gasp. he tsk’d at her reaction, shaking his head with a smirk on his face.

“tu es une petite chose désespérée,” (you are a desperate little thing). he chuckled breathlessly, eyeing her body squirm at such simple actions from him, “très sensible…” (very sensitive).

he teased her with words she could only guess the meaning of, pulling the hem of her panties back only to release it from between his fingers to slap back onto her skin. the sound filled the silence of the room and she flinched slightly at the feeling.

though she didn't have much time to react in any other way when his two fingers ran up her wet cunt, her folds rubbing against the soft cotton of her soaked panties. he teased her clit, rubbing circles with his thumb in an agonizing pace.

biting her lip and grasping at the pillows above her head, she clenched her thighs around his hand, trapping his fingers out of desperacy to feel more.

he only chuckled at her need, her attempt for a sliver of control. because he knew she had none.

he still managed to slip his hands away from her core despite her desperacy to keep him close and use him, which he didn't mind, but he preferred to have control. the warm hand from her chest emerging from the bottom of her lace tank to pry her legs apart, which didn't take much force from him. though she whined at the lack of contact.

hands placed on her knees, sliding his callused hands down the front of her thighs to rest at the point on her waist the top of her shorts rested. firmly grasping handfuls of the flesh of her hips, he tugged her body sharply against his.

unfortunately for her, his hands left her side - which she objected to - for merely five seconds to slip his blue shirt from his torso.

“calme,” (quiet) his tone was firm, yet a smirk etched its way onto his face as he saw the way her face changed as his toned torso was now in full view for her to marble at.

he let her as her fingertips barely reached his skin. she returned the smirk as she saw the rising goosebumps from the sensation of her nails down his abs before reaching where his v-line was interrupted by the tops of his sweatpants.

he shook his head at her actions, catching her wrists with both his hands and pushing them into the pillows above her head. “it's your turn now, belle,” his voice was raspy as he whispered in her ear. fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tank as he waited for her permission.

instead of giving it to him, she’d rather try to turn the teasing back on him, but unlike her, he loved the show she gave as she peeled her top from her body slowly.

on contact with the cold air, her nipples hardened again and charles could swear he salivated at the sight of her bare chest, as if he hadn't seen it plenty of times in the past.

“tu es trop jolie pour moi, ma chérie,” (you are too pretty for me, my dear) he muttered under his breath, hands full of her breasts as he couldn't resist himself.

okay, maybe her slow strip-tease did work on him a little bit. a little too well because now he wanted to see all of her.

shuffling his way till he stood at the foot of the bed, hastily slipping off his sweatpants without breaking his gaze on her body. the rise and fall of her bare chest, her hands returned to their spot on the pillows, her legs now crossed and hips moving to find friction against the cotton of her clothes to give her something to go off of. biting her lip as she tried, all while he watched.

the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor as he disregarded them across the room, his attention on her never faltering as she watched him crawl across the bed back to her.

his toned shoulders and biceps, veiny forearms and hands, eyes locked on hers, disheveled hair and half-lidded eyes. the heat of his gaze made her squirm as he crawled back up to her, bodies pressed together as his head once again dipped into the crevice of her neck.

kissing down her body, he went further, and further, and further till he stopped at her stomach, hands on her hips to her thighs to unknot them just enough. hands back to her hips to lift her just slightly and with his fingers around the hem of her shorts and panties, slowly slid them down.

he's so pretty when he goes down on her, green eyes watching as he dipped lower, and lower, and lower. gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry now across the room.

his warm breath against her stomach as he watched her carefully, analyzing every little movement and subtle reaction. every brow crease, mouth twitched, nose flare, every swallow and gulp that traveled down her throat, small fly-aways from her hair starting to matte down to her skin.

biting her lip as he lowered down her body, dangerously close to the spot between her thighs. close enough to feel his breath against her thighs, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her.

anticipation building in her stomach, hips rolling to close the gap from his face to her cunt, but his hands holding her down firmly stopped her. a whine in desperation slipping past her lips, pushing her head further back into the pillow in anguish.

“regarde-moi, chérie.” (look at me, darling) he spoke so sweetly, yet so tauntingly, like he'd never give in to what she wanted if she didn't do what he needed her to.

“charles, please…” she begged because she wasn't entirely paying attention to what he was asking of her, especially when he spoke another language. she didn't have time for translation.

he shook his head, pressing his face into her inner thigh as he chuckled at her tone, so needy and only for him.

“look at me, amour,” he repeated in english after kissing her thigh.

now propped up on her forearms, watching her beloved monégasque boyfriend looking back at her with a smug smirk on his face.

she scowled back at his expression, opening to make a snarky comment about it. her jaw hung open after he finally closed the gap after waiting too long, his tongue licking a single stripe up her cunt.

she rolled her eyes in annoyance, falling back down into her pillows as she groaned in annoyance, “fuck you, charles.”

“i’m sure you'd love to, darling,” he teased before tasting her again, humming into her cunt which incited a hand through his hair, pushing him closer and a whine to slip past her lips.

when he'd done enough teasing for his own enjoyment, he indulged further into her core. his hands snaking around to the crevice where her thigh met her hip to pull her further into him.

squeaked moans barely making it out of her mouth as he worked away at her clit, her hand in his dark hair to push him closer in fear he would stop.

nips at her folds and whines whenever he would do so, tugging a little harder on his hair causing groans from him. vibrations of his groans through her clit, stimulating her more and more.

legs trembling as her thighs clamped tightly around him, and he didn't dare stop her. he was in heaven. she was sweet, perfect in contrast to her bitter attitude only seconds ago. he nearly broke eye contact when he was first reminded of how she tasted.

caressing her hips, he refused to part with her cunt, his lips coated with her slick as he heard the pattern of her moans falter.

she was so easy to tie in knots, and so easy to untangle too, shuddering harshly as she barely let out a moan. tugging tighter at his hair, pulling him closer as if he would leave her unsatisfied as she came undone on his tongue.

he didn't stop after the first, or the second. it wasn't until she was close to her third that he even considered a break. after the second, his pace slowed to small movements from his tongue, lightly teasing her now sensitive clit.

soft tears ran down her cheeks at the overstimulation between her legs, but she didn't stop him. it felt too damn good.

the third came the slowest, but hardest as he managed to coax it out of her patiently.

by the time he had pulled away, his hair was even more messy than before, her slick covered his lips and chin, his tongue licking away the remnants of her on his face. his shoulder slightly red at her barely clawing away at his skin.

by the time he had pulled away, tears streamed down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead, her arched back dropping down the sheets, and her hands that were previously in his hair now gripped tightly at the pillows by her head. her eyes, hazy and tired, her chest rising and falling with hastened breaths as he crawled up to her, running a hand through her equally-matched messy hair and wiping stray tears that he caused, even though he knew it wasn't a bad thing.

without a word, he got up, leaving to slip into their bathroom. she heard the faucet run from her position on the bed and she rolled to the edge, peeking at his actions.

she knew he would take tender care of her, no different to how he did so every time.

—

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[kiddysart]

Commission in my style for Micyclez on Devinatart, of their oc Emerald Earthquake.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ safe haven — levi ackerman

summary: all you've ever wanted to do was take care of levi.

contents: fem!reader, established relationship, 18+ mdni, baths, fluff, soft!levi, light angst, takes place in early seasons, love, handjobs but the smut is very brief and not graphic — 2.1k

notes. i am so emotional about him

the bathroom door opens, cracks of light filtering through the shadowy space, causing beams to bounce off the soapy water. you don’t hear levi enter, but you feel him, just as you’ve always been able to.

he’s so silent, so careful as he steps, like he’s still expecting a titan to be around the corner at any moment, even when he’s home safe and sound. 

the door shuts, and the flash of yellow fades, the room glowing only by the few candles you have lit around the tub. 

levi says nothing, and you finally open your eyes, lazily trace your gaze across his frame, blurred by the grainy vision of darkness. he’s still wearing his uniform, the straps tight across his chest, though he’s already removing his cape, the emerald, billowing cloth resting loosely in his arms. 

there are swirls of dark colors on his face, deep scarlet cuts and blackened violet bruises. his hair falls over his forehead, thick strands stuck to his forehead from sweat and grime. the shadows under his eyes have only gotten worse, his cheekbones more prominent under his pale skin. 

“levi,” you say, in a voice that’s barely above a whisper, hesitant to break the peaceful silence. 

he glances over, severe blue eyes softening as they take in your relaxed form, glistening under the soapy water. your head rests on your forearms, and you gaze up at him from under wet lashes, the droplets of water sticking to each one. 

for a moment, he says nothing, contemplating as he gazes at you silently. then, he takes a step forward, kneels down to cup your cheek softly, a version of him no one else has ever seen emerging in the comfort of the darkness. 

you lean into his palm, his long, slender fingers rough and callused from all of the fighting. though there’s a comfort in that, in knowing that despite all he’s been through, all that the both of you have been through, you’ve made it home to one another. 

“sorry, the meeting ran late.” he says, studying you before tracing his thumb over your lips, watching the delicate skin bend with the pressure. “some people don’t know how to stop running their mouth.” 

you exhale a short breath, something akin to a laugh, and tug on his wrist, your hand soaking the sleeve of his white button-up. “come get in the bath with me.” 

levi makes a face at you, yanking his wrist loose from your grasp as he reclaims it for himself. “not after you’ve just washed off three days worth of grime. you’re sitting a tub of filth.”

“it’s clean, levi,” you sigh, sitting up so you can reach over the side of the tub for him once more. “i drew another bath, just for you.” 

a snort leaves him, but when he glances back over, he’s distracted by the droplets of water running over your chest, down the soft mounds of your exposed breasts. “i’m sure your intentions were nothing but pure,” levi remarks, but he’s already tugging at the leather straps that support the odm gear, unbuttoning his shirt. 

you laugh, and relax back into the tub as levi folds his clothes up neatly into a pile, despite needing to wash them later. his arms flex as he pulls at the straps of his boots, plains of corded muscles exposed from years of training. 

it’s stupid, really, that levi can’t see how beautiful he is, how he is a work of art, molded from the hands of gods. though they have treated him kindly in appearance, their generosity did not extend to other areas of his life. you try to remind him every day that he is loved, even if he is still uncomfortable about it, if he still shies away when you spout sappy, emotional words at him. 

levi dips a finger into the bath, testing the water, before he climbs in, the tension draining from his shoulders as he sinks into the tub. you’re upon him in an instance, maneuvering him so that he is between your softer thighs, his scarred, tense back on full display. 

“what are you doing?” levi asks, the words leaving him with a sigh as you trace his biceps, muscular and lean, a testament to the fact that levi is the strongest. 

“i’m washing your hair,” you say, but you focus instead on kissing his spine, dragging your fingertips across his hips. 

levi grabs your wrist, yanks hard, before his grip loosens. he twines his fingers with yours, peering over his shoulder so that your eyes meet.

“after all that work to get me naked, you won’t even let me kiss you.” 

you laugh, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades as he presses circles into your palm, relaxing the tendons. “you’ll get a kiss eventually.” 

levi huffs, but releases you, and lets you do as you please. you spill water over his head, the droplets running down the planes of his back, his dark hair turning an even deeper shade of black. 

as his breathing evens out, he grabs your knee under the water, lifting it so he can run a delicate touch down your calf. although, it’s soothing, distracting, you still manage to focus on massaging the soap into his scalp, the strands untangling as you run your hands through them. 

levi hums and leans further into you. it reminds you so much of a cat; he will always shirk away from affection, but he hate it even more when you stop giving it to him. 

you dig your fingers into the base of his skill, releasing the pressure there before massaging his shoulders. fists roam down his back, kneading out the muscles that so rarely get a break. the facade he puts on as captain of the survey corps fades away, and he becomes a softer version of himself, one who is still afraid to love but has always yearned for it even more. 

your hand drifts around him, around his waist, before you reach for his cock under the water, stroking it firmly as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

a stuttered exhale emerges from his chest. “what happened to pure motives?” he snorts, but his eyes flutter closed as you feel him grow harder in your palm.

you kiss his shoulder, up his neck, smiling against his skin. “i just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

levi huffs out a sound of amusement, and though you can’t see his face, you don’t need to, to know that he is rolling his eyes. “you still haven’t let me give you a kiss,” he says, and you laugh into his back, feeling careless and happy and so full of love for the man who doesn’t let anyone treat him gently but you. 

“fine.” you sit straighter, lean forward so that your lips are the only thing levi sees when he turns his head. you curl them into a gentle smile, pucker them foolishly, but all of his attention is already on you. he craves you so deeply, he doesn’t bother to offer a snarky retort.

levi shifts into you, puffs of air leaving his lips before he kisses you, blue eyes a smokey color, grey with desire. he swipes his tongue along your mouth, tasting the soap that lingers on your skin, devouring you whole. while he kisses you, you stroke your hand up and down his cock, listening to the little sounds that leave his throat, the hoarseness that grows in his voice. 

it doesn’t take much to get levi to turn to putty in your hands; he hides his lust well, his devotion for you, but it is there nonetheless. perhaps he is a strong soldier, but he is a weak man when it comes to the affection of those who love him. 

“fuck,” levi mutters into your mouth, swallowing down his groans as you swipe a finger over his slit. he’s close, obviously so, and you run your other hand up his stomach, feel the ridges of his abdomen that are tense, even under the warm water. “feel so good,” he rasps, lazily kissing across your face. “you’re so pretty.” 

you smile, preening from the compliments that don’t come often, but are always so genuine. 

levi rests his forehead against yours and spills into your hand a moment later, his breathing off-kilter.

there is darkness in his stormy irises, but it clears around you, and that’s all you want, really; to be able to free levi of everything that plagues his mind, if only for a fleeting moment. 

he says your name, whispers it into lips that catch it, the word like honey in his deep voice. 

“hm?” you close you eyes, hearing the soft sounds of his breathing, the heart that beats beneath his ribcage. and it will continue to beat, until you can fight no longer, because you’ll never let a titan or anything else take him away from you.

levi cups your cheek once more, traces his thumb softly across the harsh bones. “you do know i love you… right?” 

the admission of affection catches you off guard. he’s said it before, but he uses it sparingly, and that’s always been okay with you. you know he is afraid of what might happen to you, and you know him too well to try and convince him otherwise. 

“i know. i’ve always know,” you say, kissing him again softly, his lips warm and plump. “you don’t have to tell me.” 

disbelief contorts his face, his dark eyebrows pinching together as he studies you. though you aren’t always the best at convincing him, you stroke his arm, massaging the muscles that are perpetually tense. it’s difficult to avoid the smattering of tender bruises that he can no longer hide under the military uniform. 

“i’m afraid i’m not good at showing it,” levi admits, and you soften, watching as uncertainty infiltrates his normally steadfast eyes. “but i hope—”

“levi,” you say, and you know the tenderness of it makes him cringe, but you can’t help it, not when your heart aches at every moment for the man before you. “just because you don’t show your love in the same way as me, doesn’t mean that i don’t feel it.” 

he stares, blinks once before nodding, letting the words seep into his soul. even though you know it won’t be the last time he admits his self-doubt, you don’t mind reassuring him. you’ll tell him as many times as it takes, repeat the words every moment you’re together for the rest of eternity, if only to make him realize how loved you feel by him. 

you lean back in the tub, your fingers wrinkled and pruned from sitting in the water for so long. but when you try to climb out, levi grabs you wrist once more, stops you with a gentle touch, and guides you back into him. 

his arms wrap around you tightly, nearly crushing your naked, warm bodies together with the force of his embrace. though he not one to let his vulnerabilities show, he still buries his head into your shoulder, lets you see how weary and broken down he has become. 

your nose digs into his dark, wet hair, the scent of shampoo lingering as you melt into him, hugging him back as closely. tension that you hadn’t realized you were hanging onto finally drains from your body, and you feel lighter than you have in days. as if your body has, at last, realized that you are no longer outside of the walls, and this is not a dream, but you truly are home, safe and sound. 

his fingers dig into your back, and you rest against him, never able to resist a moment wrapped up in his arms. 

levi sighs, dragging his nose across his neck. the water will turn cold soon, but you don’t mind. you’ll do whatever levi needs, wait here with him until you are both a shivering mess. 

“i’m glad you’re here,” levi says, just above a whisper as he kisses your collarbone. 

you smile. it’s not exactly another i love you, but you know that’s what he means.

[blueparadis]

❝ HONEY D[R]IPS ❞ + AL-HAITHAM

+. CWs —» fem!sub!reader x service dom!al-haitham; virginity kink, size kink, praising,edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, marking, oral act. word count — 1kish.

+. PRECIS —» al-haitham never imagined he can be tamed by a fragile creature like you.

+. NOTES —» there is a little bit of kaveh x reader & also al-haitham x kaveh cuz i refuse to seperate them. I'm in love their ‘chaos in the calm’ dynamic. totally not losing mind over him && you can read my works via NAVIGATION LINKS.

Fragile; that was the word that flashed through his mind when al-haitham first laid his eyes on you as you walked into his life like a dashing wave on a lonely shore wrecking havoc in his mind, body, and soul.

Al-haitham hated it; the unknown feeling amongst his ribcage that made him hear his heartbeats loud and clear, even in the hubbub of a crowd. He is a man of few words unless Kaveh isn't around. Somehow Kaveh manages to create ripples of annoyance in his peaceful mind and it weathers his patience, day by day.

On the other hand, Kaveh tries his best to avoid getting so worked up upon Al-haitham's stimulation yet he can not seem to turn a blind eye to the fact that al-haitham is undeniably quiet in her presence, in your presence. Kaveh was delighted to find out that at least once, he could have the upper hand if al-haitham were to really disrespect him, or hurt his feelings. It did not turn out as he thought it would be.

When Kaveh noticed that Al-haitham's emerald eyes were not on the book's rusty pages but peeking through the book's frame, lips twisting and occasionally turning whenever you are about to leave his sight he knew he could not use this as his wild card but watching him like this is more agonizing than getting yelled at by him. 

“Quit staring. it’s creepy.”, Kaveh uttered slamming the book on the table to gain his roommate’s attention. Al-haitham’s eyes shifted from her to his senior, as he whispered, “I wasn’t”, like a lovesick fool. At that moment, Kaveh knew he was hopeless. Not only he flat-out denied his fondness for her but also refused to act. “Guess it’s the other way ‘round”, he hisses before beckoning her in his direction shouting her name from the bottom of his lungs in the library. What an incredible idea to get her attention!

Al-haitham thinks his life hasn’t been livelier before. Watching you talk with his not-so-cool senior, and hearing your giggles, complaints, and tantrums was more than he could ask for. It did not bother him how you were always like a blooming flower around Kaveh. As for Kaveh, he would not go that far as having you as Al-haitham wants. He is satisfied just getting al-haitham worked up once in a while but after a few attempts, Al-haitham got used to it.

What he was not used to is you, your innocence around him, the unalloyed conscience. It drove him insane so much so that he started to observe you more, thinking about the minute details about you like would there be any mole like the one near her chin? Does she always wear light-colored clothes? Is her nipples same the color as her lips? how would she look underneath him, naked and . . .

It has been days since he started to think of you, in a very particular way, thought of getting close to you, and discarded the habit of staring at you through the frame of the book. He was tempted to touch himself, to relieve himself from this ache but he wanted to be over once and for all, not in installments, not in the dead of night jacking off in the bathroom.

And now, here you were underneath him, just like he imagined. 

Beads of perspiration sedimented at the lining of his forehead, fingertips being rigid, heart beating like drums, and all because his cock would not fit in your pussy. He has eaten you out for hours, tasted you to the very core, fondled your boobs till you were moaning loudly, shamelessly, sucked and bit your pebbled nipples until they were bruised and yet it was not enough. 

every time you were screaming, telling him to stop fingering you he would not. “You’re about to cum angel.”, he mentioned, eyes focused on ready to pull out the moment your legs give up to hold them apart again that are craving to shut close as to submerge in the euphoric high; so that he would have you creaming on his cock rather than his fingers. 

Tears like raindrops accumulate at the corner of your eyes as he tries to push his fat cock inside you and then retreats thinking he might hurt you as you lay blanking out, reflexively playing with your boobs, biting your bottom lip, whimpering, “so..sorry.”, as he brushes the tip of his cock up and down, over your pussy lips.

He shushes, leaning to kiss those bruised swollen lips murmuring, “shhh…shhsh angel. Just relax for me, yea? Can you do that?” you nod anticipating what is going to happen next, curling your arms around his shoulders as he adds in further, “tell me if it hurts. i’ll  stop ‘kay?”

“Um-hm”

He aligns the cock to your entrance and as he had your eyes on him, he pushes his cock in with a single broad thrust making your arms instantly fly back over your head gripping the edge of the pillow, wincing in pain, and gasping at the feeling of being full. He grits his teeth feeling the warmth of your gummy walls and sheathing his cock, halfway through.

“It..hu..hurts…”, you blurt out, eyes squeezing shut, body arching and suddenly feeling more full than before. 

“Want me to … to pull out?”, he asks exhaustively grazing the tip of his nose against your neckline. You pull him into a kiss bucking your hips up trying to take him all in and then gasping as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.

Al-haitham watches you meticulously: eyes rolling white you squirm underneath him sensing a knot in your belly button that is slowly building up its moment as you adjust to his girth. “Yo’r so good for me, angel.”, starting to kiss along your glistening neckline. He is relishing the feeling of being inside you. Finally, he is fucking that pussy that has been driving him crazy for days. How can it be over just a few minutes? 

—

@tokyometronetwork.

[lordprettyflackotara]

fill the void || fred weasley

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+

It felt odd in a way, being alone for the first time.

Usually you were surrounded by your fellow Slytherins, the smell of cigarettes and cologne something your nostrils had grown accustomed to. The sound of vicious insults or bitter rants making a nest in your ears. The sight of scowls with liquor in their hands, their knuckles typically bruised and bloody.

But right now, all of that was gone. The air in the courtyard was clean, the breeze blowing past you providing you with the smell of the earth. Your sights were centered on a giant oak tree, as well as the moon that dimly illuminated the area below. It was an odd change, your surroundings being so settled. You couldn’t help but wonder what you would’ve become if you hadn’t been placed in Slytherin. Maybe yellow would’ve suited you better.

It wasn’t that you despised your housemates, even if they were a group of misfit toys. Mattheo protected you, Theo tutored you, Draco was always glued to your side. It wasn’t them that troubled you. It was what wearing the sickening shade of green meant. Submission to the dark lord. Following the ideology of pureblood nonsense. Especially being one of the only prominent girls, there was always the lingering question who’d you marry and reproduce with.

Yuck.

“Am I interrupting?”

You didn’t need to turn around. You’d recognize a Weasley’s voice anywhere. “Unfortunately not,” You admitted. You hated to admit you knew which Weasley twin it was, a lanky Fred Weasley plopping down beside you on the concrete steps. He stretched out his long legs, mere inches separating both of you. “Is there a reason you’re perched out here instead of doing shots with your friends?” Fred asked. How could you explain why? Oh yes, I am having an existential crisis because of the fact my dress is emerald. Want to go inside and split a chocolate frog?

“Where’s your other half? Didnt think you two separated,” You quipped, brushing off his question. Fred took the hint, leaning back on his hands. “Currently snogging Angelina Johnson,” He answered. This caught your attention, your head snapping to look over at him. “The chaser that wiped the floor with Blaise last season?” You asked. Sometimes you forgot how small this dreaded University actually was. Fred nodded, shrugging. “Aggressive on and off the field, just the way George likes em,” He replied.

You snorted. “Ahh yes. Makes sense a Weasley would enjoy being slutted out,” You snickered. It was too easy of a jab. Fred began to man spread, his long legs in your personal bubble. “I wouldn’t be so hasty little serpent. A few of us know how to put a brat in their place,” He smirked. The cocky motherfucker winked, heat dashing across your cheeks. You must be in a different dimension. There’s no bloody way a Weasley made you blush. “You’re cute when you blush,” Fred praised. He couldn’t help but notice how good you looked in the moonlight, the beams highlighting your features.

“Are you complimenting me Weasley?” You questioned. You avoided his gaze, trying to ignore the fact your heart skipped a beat. “Obviously not, i’m flirting with you,” Fred replied, unable to control the smile creeping across his lips. You were just so easy to tease. “What makes you think you can flirt with me?” You asked, turning your head to look over at the ginger. He shrugged, meeting your firey gaze with ease. “Perhaps it’s because we’re in the same boat, sitting out here alone in a bloody courtyard while the yule ball is less than five hundred feet away,” Fred explained. You audibly scoffed. “Weasley’s can’t afford a boat,” You spat.

Fred chuckled at your insult, your venom harmless to him. “Considering you’re out here I think it’s safe to say your boat has sank. Guess we’re on the same island together then,” He replied. You couldn’t help but find his facial expression smug. “Great,” You grumbled. You rested your chin on your knees, contemplating your life decisions. Fred sighed. “Well, if my presence really isn’t that valued i’ll relocate,” He said. He began to rise to his feet, your body doing a one eighty. You didn’t realize your hand was gripping his wrist until it was, desperately holding him in place.

“Sit down Weasley. I-,” You paused, looking up at the ginger. “I’d prefer it if you stayed.”

Fred grinned down at you mischievously, resuming his place beside you. “Figured you’d say that. Just wanted to hear you say it,” He gloated. You slapped his arm. “You’re unbearable. You know that don’t you?” You grumbled. Fred couldn’t help but laugh. Your annoyance was adorable. “You seem to like it,” He replied. You frowned as he stood up in front of you. “Do not,” You argued.

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

Fred extended his hand in front of you. The faint sound of classical music could be heard over the stillness, the wind having faded out. “Care to dance?” He asked. The choice was standing right in front of you, demanding an answer. You could say no and continue moping on the stairs. You could say no and go back inside, all eyes on you once again. Or you could say yes, potentially having a good time with a boy you didn’t belong with. Dancing with a Weasley? Draco would have a field day with this one. But Fred’s hand never looked more appealing than it did in that moment.

Hesitantly you took his hand, allowing him to bring you to your feet. Even in heels he easily towered over you, the ginger not hesitating to bring you close to his chest. “You know you can drop the bad girl act with me, I won’t tell,” Fred said, guiding you back and forth. You were an awkward dancer, despite the endless ballroom dancing classes your parents put you through. “It’s not an act,” You argue. Fred looked down at you, his face painted like he knew you. Like he could see right through your hollow shell.

“Sure it isn’t. And i’m not the best prankster in Hogwarts,” He quipped. You slowly spun you around, giving you time to catch up as you almost tripped in your heels. “You’ve really got quite an ego, don’t you Weasley?” You asked. Fred grinned as he pulled you back close to him. “Thats a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” He asked. You glared up at him. “I think not,” You argued. Even though your words were laced with venom, you couldn’t deny how much you enjoyed his touch.

So gentle but so assertive, guiding you. Your mind strayed away, imagining him guiding you a different way. Guiding you to take his cock, to ride him until the sun came up. “Hey? Are you listening little serpent?” Fred asked, his voice coming back into frame. You blinked a few times, trying to regain your composure. “Sorry, what?” You asked. Fred slowly guided the dance to a stop, the song ending. You couldn’t help but wish it’d last forever. “I was asking what you’re thinking about,” He said.

You could feel yourself turning red, your filthy thoughts flooding to the forefront of your mind. You felt tongue tied, unable to confess your dirty fantasies. “Ohh, I see,” Fred said. You couldn’t bear to look at him in the eye, embarrassed enough to be in this position. You felt his slender fingers slide under your chin, guiding you to look up at him. You allowed him to guide you, his eyes boring into yours. You liked that, allowing him to guide you. Even if he was supposed to be bad for you, his touch put you on cloud nine.

“Do you like that? When I guide you? Take control?” Fred asked, his voice dropping an octave lower than before. You could’ve dropped to your knees in an instant. “Maybe I do,” You replied, not wanting to cave, not just yet. Fred leaned down further, pressing his lips against yours. His lips were warmer than you thought they’d be, filling the void inside of you. The void that craved approval and validation. His lips provided all of that and more. He guided you towards the giant oak tree, pinning you against it.

The sharp bark scraped at your back, a groan escaping your lips as Fred’s refused to stray from yours. You raked your hands throw his hair, pulling at the roots roughly. Fred whined into your mouth, smirking as he pulled away. “Cute,” He murmured. His eyes flickered behind you, ensuring no one was around. “As much as i’d love to make you squirm, we can’t do much here,” He whispered. You pulled him back to your lips, sliding your tongue into his mouth. You couldn’t get enough, your body craving him.

“That eager, are we?” Fred asked, pulling you back in for another kiss. You gently bit his bottom lip, pulling it towards you. “Fuck me, at the very least Weasley,” You ordered weakly, your body betraying the attempt at dominance you were spewing. Fred grinned mischievously. “Turn around for me pretty girl,” He purred. You did as asked, his large hands pushing you against the tree. You could hear the clinking of his belt, your core throbbing in anticipation.

His large hands pushed up your dress, pulling your panties to the slide. “You’re lucky we’re in the courtyard, otherwise i’d make you beg and scream for me to fuck you,” Fred purred. You felt his tip brush up and down your folds, a moan escaping your lips. One of Fred’s hands flew to your mouth. “Gotta keep quiet little serpent. Dont want anyone to hear you being a whore for a Weasley, do you?” He taunted. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, your body feeling like it may split in two.

“You’re fuckin soaked for me,” Fred mused, placing a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. Your moans were muffled by his hand, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I’m bigger than Malfoy aren’t I?” He asked teasingly as he bottomed out inside of you. You grabbed onto his wrist, yanking it away from your mouth. “In your dreams Weasley,” You spat, whimpering as he bucked his hips ever so slightly. Fred began to suck at the side of your neck, harsh enough to leave a hickey. “Dont leave marks on me,” You argued, moaning as he began to thrust into you. Fred released your neck with a pop, satisfied as the skin began to turn purple.

“Whys that? Afraid your boy toys will find out you’ve let me in between your legs?” Fred asked, beginning to pick up the pace. His pace was brutal, his hand flying back over your mouth to muffle your sinful noises. “When they ask tell them. Tell them how I ruined you. How a Gryffindor made you cum in a courtyard like a dog in heat,” Fred huffed. He continued to viciously snap his hips into yours, his cock abusing your g spot with each thrust. You moaned his name into his hand, gripping one of his wrist and the tree for support.

“You’re so fucking tight, so perfect,” Fred groaned into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He removed his hand from your mouth, his hands taking their rightful place on your hips. “I’m going to make you cum on my cock. You understand me? You’re going make a mess for me,” Fred ordered. His orders were hypnotizing, your legs beginning to shake as he held onto the fabric of your dress. You could feel the knot inside of you tighten, a familiar feeling coming.

“Please make me cum Freddie, fucking please,” You pleaded, your orgasm coming faster than you’d like to admit. Fred chuckled, fucking you mercilessly against the tree. “There she is, there’s my sweet whore. Go on, cum for me,” He panted. You squeezed his wrist tightly as you came, euphoria washing over you as you came on his shaft. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out on you at any moment. You felt Fred’s hips stutter, the ginger pulling out of you.

He guided you onto the ground, your bare knees hitting the dirt below. You stuck out your tongue, allowing Fred to cum inside of your mouth. “Holy shit,” Fred moaned, watching as you swallowed every last top. You both sat there for a moment, your highs subsiding as you soaked in what you had just done.

“Hey y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna grab a butterbeer sometime?”

“Shut up Weasley.”

[lord-of-the-prompts]

DESCRIBING THE PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES OF CHARACTERS:

Body

descriptors; ample, athletic, barrel-chested, beefy, blocky, bony, brawny, buff, burly, chubby, chiseled, coltish, curvy, fat, fit, herculean, hulking, lanky, lean, long, long-legged, lush, medium build, muscular, narrow, overweight, plump, pot-bellied, pudgy, round, skeletal, skinny, slender, slim, stocky, strong, stout, strong, taut, toned, wide.

Eyebrows

descriptors; bushy, dark, faint, furry, long, plucked, raised, seductive, shaved, short, sleek, sparse, thin, unruly.

shape; arched, diagonal, peaked, round, s-shaped, straight.

Ears

shape; attached lobe, broad lobe, narrow, pointed, round, square, sticking-out.

Eyes

colour; albino, blue (azure, baby blue, caribbean blue, cobalt, ice blue, light blue, midnight, ocean blue, sky blue, steel blue, storm blue,) brown (amber, dark brown, chestnut, chocolate, ebony, gold, hazel, honey, light brown, mocha, pale gold, sable, sepia, teakwood, topaz, whiskey,) gray (concrete gray, marble, misty gray, raincloud, satin gray, smoky, sterling, sugar gray), green (aquamarine, emerald, evergreen, forest green, jade green, leaf green, olive, moss green, sea green, teal, vale).

descriptors; bedroom, bright, cat-like, dull, glittering, red-rimmed, sharp, small, squinty, sunken, sparkling, teary.

positioning/shape; almond, close-set, cross, deep-set, downturned, heavy-lidded, hooded, monolid, round, slanted, upturned, wide-set.

Face

descriptors; angular, cat-like, hallow, sculpted, sharp, wolfish.

shape; chubby, diamond, heart-shaped, long, narrow, oblong, oval, rectangle, round, square, thin, triangle.

Facial Hair

beard; chin curtain, classic, circle, ducktail, dutch, french fork, garibaldi, goatee, hipster, neckbeard, old dutch, spade, stubble, verdi, winter.

clean-shaven

moustache; anchor, brush, english, fu manchu, handlebar, hooked, horseshoe, imperial, lampshade, mistletoe, pencil, toothbrush, walrus.

sideburns; chin strap, mutton chops.

Hair

colour; blonde (ash blonde, golden blonde, beige, honey, platinum blonde, reddish blonde, strawberry-blonde, sunflower blonde,) brown (amber, butterscotch, caramel, champagne, cool brown, golden brown, chocolate, cinnamon, mahogany,) red (apricot, auburn, copper, ginger, titain-haired,), black (expresso, inky-black, jet black, raven, soft black) grey (charcoal gray, salt-and-pepper, silver, steel gray,), white (bleached, snow-white).

descriptors; bedhead, dull, dry, fine, full, layered, limp, messy, neat, oily, shaggy, shinny, slick, smooth, spiky, tangled, thick, thin, thinning, tousled, wispy, wild, windblown.

length; ankle length, bald, buzzed, collar length, ear length, floor length, hip length, mid-back length, neck length, shaved, shoulder length, waist length.

type; beach waves, bushy, curly, frizzy, natural, permed, puffy, ringlets, spiral, straight, thick, thin, wavy.

Hands; calloused, clammy, delicate, elegant, large, plump, rough, small, smooth, square, sturdy, strong.

Fingernails; acrylic, bitten, chipped, curved, claw-like, dirty, fake, grimy, long, manicured, painted, peeling, pointed, ragged, short, uneven.

Fingers; arthritic, cold, elegant, fat, greasy, knobby, slender, stubby.

Lips/Mouth

colour (lipstick); brown (caramel, coffee, nude, nutmeg,) pink (deep rose, fuchsia, magenta, pale peach, raspberry, rose, ) purple (black cherry, plum, violet, wine,) red (deep red, ruby.)

descriptors; chapped, cracked, dry, full, glossy, lush, narrow, pierced, scabby, small, soft, split, swollen, thin, uneven, wide, wrinkled.

shape; bottom-heavy, bow-turned, cupid’s bow, downturned, oval, pouty, rosebud, sharp, top-heavy.

Nose

descriptors; broad, broken, crooked, dainty, droopy, hooked, long, narrow, pointed, raised, round, short, strong, stubby, thin, turned-up, wide.

shape; button, flared, grecian, hawk, roman.

Skin

descriptors; blemished, bruised, chalky, clear, dewy, dimpled, dirty, dry, flaky, flawless, freckled, glowing, hairy, itchy, lined, oily, pimply, rashy, rough, sagging, satiny, scarred, scratched, smooth, splotchy, spotted, tattooed, uneven, wrinkly.

complexion; black, bronzed, brown, dark, fair, ivory, light, medium, olive, pale, peach, porcelain, rosy, tan, white.

[campfire-collective]

well, good news is that heartland channel is DEFINITELY skipping episodes. bad news is that i don't get to find out what happened to georgina and phoenix in the fire.

[ohtobeleah]

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a mission goes south, Jake finds himself captured by insurgents that show no remorse. But what’s worse than knowing he failed his mission? Knowing that the Weapons Systems Officer who trusted him to bring her home safe was in the same cell as him. Collecting bruises that match his own.

Mini Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Chapter One: [Happily Ever Afters Don’t Exist] A certain naval aviator shows up on your front doorstep right on cue. Because when the nightmares are too hard to handle on their own? You and Jake find solace in one another’s presence. (2.5k ) (Out Now)

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown] When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life. (4.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Three: [In The Arms Of The Enemy] Both you and Jake come face to face with the man you only know as ‘The Commander’ who you soon find out has very little patience for bullshit. (4.6k) (Out Now)

Hotshot: The moments before you were brought into your cell & the memory that haunted Jake Seresins mind. (1.3k )

Chapter Four: [Men & Their Many Masks] You and Jake find yourselves alone in his cell for what feels like a week. Passing the time with mundane conversations. But when The Commander and his fellow officers finally come back? Things take a turn for the worst. (5.3k) (Out Now)

Chapter Five: [Emerald City:] *** You’re forced against your will by three insurgents all the while Jake helplessly watches on. In return? He’s given a gift made only for the broken hearted. (4.8k) (Out Now)

Chapter Six: [Ninety in Five] *** Hours, Days, Weeks, Months. Just how long have you and Jake been enduring the horrific torture at the hands of a Rogue Nations Commander. (5.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Seven: [War Wounds in the Ward] When help finally arrives, Jake believes it may be too late. The extent of both your injuries are finally revealed and the both you come face to face with the reality of just how long you’d been held in captivity for. (7.4k) (Out Now)

Chapter Eight: [The Platform] When Jake wakes up beside you after seeking refuge in your company, he’s forced to face a nightmare he thought would only ever exist in his mind. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Epilogue: [Before, During & Never After] There one place Jake Seresin knows where to find you after he’s woken by a startling bark. (1.6k) (Out Now)

Concepts / Blurbs.

-> [Don’t Wanna Miss My Stop] Jake Overdoses

-> [Don’t Blame Me] Jake doesn’t blame himself for how you died. He blames himself for why you died.

Status: Complete

Life After Death Spin off Series

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (9)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: kissing, angst, violence, swearing, humiliation, suicide attempt, descriptions of wounds, coercion ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When he stepped out of the underground into the cloisters, there was complete chaos all around him. He stood on the stairs for a while, watching from below what was happening, not wanting to guide anyone to where his niece was, deciding that she was safe where he had left her.

Something had happened, he could feel it in his bones.

It was only when silence echoed around him that he emerged from his hiding place and moved quickly ahead, heading for his mother's chamber. He didn't find her there, however, and when he stepped back out into the corridor he almost bumped into Criston Cole, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

He was furious.

"My Prince."

Cole led him, to his dismay, into the chamber where the Small Council was meeting, not changing a word with him along the way, pale and tense.

He wondered if it had something to do with the fact that they had managed to escape on his watch.

When the door opened he saw his entire family. His mother, dressed in her most beautiful, richly decorated emerald gown with a large seven-pointed star on her chest sat at the head of the table, looking at him with furrowed brows, her hands folded in front of her − his attention was immediately drawn to the fact that she was plucking at the cuticles around her nails with her fingers, creating wounds from which blood was oozing.

To her left sat Aegon, all bruised and with his hair in complete disarray, as if he had been dragged out of some barn; he was still clearly drunk, staring blankly ahead, playing with a ruby stone ball placed in a niche on the table.

Next to him sat Helaena, breathing rapidly, it seemed to him that she was going through some kind of panic inside her. She was looking sideways, her whole body was quivering; he thought she didn't even notice his presence.

In addition to the maester and Lord Lannister, he noticed also his grandfather, seated at his mother's right hand, his chin raised slightly, his eyebrows showed surprise and disapproval. He was the first person to speak when the chamber door closed behind him with a loud clatter of old wood.

"At last you have graced us with your presence. Where have you been? The whole keep has been looking for you." He said dispassionately and coolly, with a kind of mockery from which he only tightened his lips, rolling his eyes, folding his hands behind him. He straightened up, sighing heavily.

"What's happening? Why all the commotion?" He asked, feigning indifference, trying not to pay attention to the tightness in his throat and the rapid pounding of his heart.

"Your father, our King, died this night. He passed away peacefully."

He looked at him in disbelief, feeling that for a moment his mind was in a complete void, his heart stopped, his body froze as still as stone.

As he always did in moments of panic, he turned his gaze towards his mother, the weariness and helplessness on her face, her eyes red from the tears she had surely shed over this old man she had never desired.

"Before his death, he revealed to me that it was Aegon who should become King. He told me this in person, without witnesses." She said quietly, lowering her gaze to her hands; she slid them down to her lap as she noticed that blood from under her fingernails had begun to run down onto the table.

A heavy, suffocating silence full of tension fell − his older brother looked at him as if begging him to spare him this and just kill him.

He involuntarily snorted, not knowing how else he could react to this nonsense.

"You can lie to the kingdom, mother, but not to us. If you don't want to let Rheanyra take the throne, just say so."

He saw her raise her gaze at him quickly, full of pain and regret, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that the son with whom she had always shared the closest bond simply did not believe her and mocked her words.

"It is true, Aemond. I swear on the Seven that it is true."

He turned his face away from her, hitting the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, feeling that chaos filled his head; even though he tried to calm down and focus, the terror that this was changing everything prevailed.

"Where is she, Aemond? She will be of great use to us in negotiations with the Princess. She will not burn us alive in the keep as long as she knows her daughter is here." Said his grandfather in a voice as if he were rebuking a small child, deliberately leaving out the fact that he guessed why and for what reason the two of them had fled.

He looked at him coldly, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the realisation that he had made a mistake.

She stayed because that was his desire.

She ran away with him because that was his desire.

She gave herself to him because that was his desire.

She had done everything he wanted, and now he was going to sell her, betray her, make her a prisoner?

A dragon is not a slave, he thought regretfully.

"Aemond." He heard his mother's pleading voice. "I want to find a solution that satisfies her mother to some extent as well. We must have her under control, it is the only solution."

"I will marry her first. The sooner, the better."

His grandfather and mother looked at him as if he had gone completely mad, Otto laughed as if he couldn't believe he had said that.

"I knew your brother thinks with his cock, but you? You've lost only one eye, but you're completely blind." He said with a sneer from which he felt his jaw clench.

"That was my father's wish. Unlike my mother's words, this decision of his was heard by everyone here." He hissed, looking at him with growing fury, like a cornered animal trying to bite, knowing that he was slowly losing control of the situation.

"Your father is dead. Instead your brother will face a difficult task for which he will need the support of Storm's End. You will marry one of Lord Baratheon's daughters. He has as many as four of them, a whole lot to choose from." His grandfather replied, looking around the assembled with a look full of conviction that he had said the right thing, that his sacrifice for his family was necessary, that everyone now had to take on some burden.

"No."

He heard his low, enraged voice before he had time to think, found to his surprise that it was not the call of his mind, but of his subconscious, as if that one word had escaped from his dark, empty depths.

"Don't be a fool, you have to…"

"My father's word matters in the decision to make Aegon King, but not in the case of my marriage?" He growled, trying to control his loud breathing, terror and panic overpowering his body, for here it suddenly appeared that the last person who could support him, who shared his desire was gone.

He had taken her, she could carry his child, his inheritance.

How could he abandon her now, after promising her that he would marry her as soon as possible?

How would that prove about him as a man?

"Mother." He turned to her as a last resort; his Queen looked at him with her lips slightly parted, her eyebrows arched in pain and indecision as she knew he was driven by more than just his dying father's wishes.

"We must protect our family, Aemond. We all make sacrifices. Duty is the death of love. Tell me where she is."

He looked at his mother, the woman he had always trusted, cared for, protected, and thought he was alone.

For a moment he saw her peaceful, sleeping face in his mind, felt her soft, bare, warm body snuggled into his, entwined with his like a vine and felt a tightening in his throat, tears of shame in the corners of his eyes.

"She is in servant's chamber."

He knew Criston Cole had gone to find her as soon as they had returned from the Great Sept after Aegon's coronation. He knew she must surely have felt betrayed, terrified and distraught; he thought about how she needed him, only to find that she now only despised him and had every right to do so.

When they returned, he locked himself in his quarters and did not leave, despite the lavish feast held in honour of the new King, insisted on by Aegon himself. He stared into the flames, exactly as he had when he had waited for her letters, and knew that if there had ever been hope for them, he had just crushed it.

Even if he wanted to go to see her, no one would let him in; his grandfather had made sure he would no longer visit her.

He felt empty.

Mad ideas ran through his head − thoughts that perhaps if he explained everything to her in detail, told her the truth, the fact that everything that was happening around them had occurred without him being involved, that he was as shocked as she was, that it was not his desire to wed anyone but her, he could try to marry her in secret.

He felt a sort of pathetic hope at the thought, which he knew was childish and naïve, however he clung to it not wanting to consider that she might not have desired and loved him anymore.

It was then that he heard it, the shouts of the guards and the commotion; he stepped out into the corridor and noticed that the door to his niece's chamber was open.

"Gods help us! Summon the maester, quickly!" He heard Criston's frightened voice; he moved in that direction qucikly and stepped inside, staring in disbelief at the terrifying sight before him, feeling only the frantic pounding of his heart.

His Rhaenys was lying on her bed, her lips parted, her face blue and pale, her wrists slit, the snow-white sheets and furs around her sticky with her blood, Criston clutching her wounds in his hands, looking at him in horror.

"− they told me they searched her whole chamber − she must have hidden it somewhere −" Cole said in a trembling voice, clearly afraid of his wrath, but he didn't listen to him, staring blankly at the small dagger lying beside her body, remembering that she had shown it to him proudly when they were still children, saying that now, like him, she could be a warrior.

She had asked him, in secret from their parents, to show her how to handle it, and though he had been reluctant at first, fearing that she would hurt herself, he succumbed to her when she told him that she would feel safer with it.

He acknowledged then that while she certainly wouldn't need it once he became her husband, as she would spend every night in his presence and he would be her protector, until they were married he would feel reassured if she could defend herself.

He then showed her some simple cuts on the sack filled with hay he had brought to her chamber earlier, which she stabbed with a certainty and ferocity that shocked him; had it not been for fear of what others would think, he would have suggested she try wielding a sword.

He approached her slowly on trembling legs feeling complete emptiness in his head, breathing heavily through his mouth and climbed onto her bed, gently grasping her cheeks in his fingers, turning her face towards him, her body limp, her lips slightly parted, her eyelids half open, her gaze distant, misty.

"− what have you done? −" He asked in a whisper, terrified of how his voice and body were shaking, his heart pounding like mad, his throat and stomach squeezed so tightly that he had trouble breathing.

He heard her quiet sigh as she struggled to lift her gaze to him, looking at him as if she was thinking about something, as if she wasn't sure if what was happening was a dream or a wake.

It was only when he looked at her closely that he noticed that her right cheek was all red and swollen, he felt tears of shame under his eyelids and overwhelming rage at the thought that someone had dared to hit her.

"− was I ever your Rhaenys? −" She asked so quietly that he barely heard her; he felt an unbearable squeeze in his throat, his eyebrows arched in pain, his eyes burning from the tears that wanted so desperately to run down his face.

"− you're − you're − gods, you've always been −" He whimpered with difficulty in a voice breaking with pain and grief, pressing his nose against her soft, cold cheek. He cried out loudly, never feeling so helpless before in his life, for his dearest woman was dying in his arms because of him, betrayed and abandoned.

He didn't hear the terrified screams of his sister and mother as they ran ran into her chamber to see what had happened, didn't hear the words of the maester telling him to move away or the look of his brother standing behind him, grabbing his arm, telling him in a trembling voice that he had to release her, that he had to let the medics treat her wounds.

"− do not fall asleep −" He muttered, feeling the warm tears run down his cheeks, looking only at her, stroking her head as if she were again a small child, shifting just enough for the maester to bandage her wrists and stop the bleeding.

He pressed his face to her cheek, whispering with difficulty that she was his beloved wife, his dearest friend, his sweetest Rhaenys.

"− my head is spinning −" She mumbled softly, his mother sitting on the other side of the bed covered her face with her hand, trying to calm her breathing, her face red from tears; Helaena stood beside her trembling all over, unable to make a sound, going through everything she saw deep inside her.

"Gods, help her." He heard her soft whisper, their mother repeated her words − she raised her hand wanting to stroke her daughter's arm, but she pulled away.

This is what duty was to them, he thought.

Destruction.

"− rest, my sweetest − rest −" He whispered, stroking her cold cheek with his thumb, sure that no force would tear him away from her now, no force would make him leave her, that if any of them tried to do so, he would fucking kill them all.

However, no one tried.

"She lost a lot of blood. I gave her beetroot juice to strengthen her body and secured her wounds, but she may not survive the night." He heard the maester's quiet voice addressed to his mother, the Queen wept softly and began to pray aloud.

He listened to the words of her prayer as he lay with his hand on her throat, tips of his fingers pressed against her artery to make sure he could still feel her pulse, his face pressed against her soft cheek.

Aegon got up at last and left without a word, his mother, Helaena and maester fell asleep in chairs by the blazing fireplace, wakeful, terrified of what consequences her death might have had for them all.

He, however, did not sleep that night.

For the first time in years, holding her in his arms, making sure she was breathing, that her heart was still beating, he allowed himself to return to the memories of their childhood that he had locked deep in his heart, recognising them as the source of his weakness.

He recalled their first kiss, how she looked that day and thought with bitter amazement that he remembered perfectly even what gown she wore, how her hair was combed, the taste of the lemon cake she had brought him moments before.

He kissed her forehead at that memory, so innocent and tender, felt the warmth melt into his chest and heart, so wonderfully pleasant, soothing.

"− uncle −" He heard her quiet voice and shuddered, looking down at her; he stroked her cheek and hushed her, seeing that her eyes were half-open, her lips slightly parted.

"− shhh − sleep, sweet flower, I am here −" He whispered and she smiled again, her hand lifted with difficulty, he felt a shiver run down his spine as her fingertips ran over the skin of his face.

"− can I kiss you? −" She asked softly, thinking for certain that everything that happened was just a bad dream.

He leaned over her and sank his lips into hers, feeling with relief that her body was warmer, that life was returning to her, her mouth wonderfully soft and moist.

She sighed sweetly feeling his closeness, his hand slipping into her hair, holding her close, his manhood in his breeches involuntarily pulsing hard, betraying how much he needed her, how much he desired her.

They kissed slowly, lazily, allowing themselves to finally be those innocent, ignorant children again, his fingers stroked her hair, her cheeks, her neck with a gentleness he thought his body had already forgotten, the taste of her saliva melting on his palate, on his tongue.

He thought with pain, holding her close, that when she regained consciousness, when she woke up in the morning, she would loathe him.

"− I dreamt that they made me drink it −" She whispered more to herself than to him, and he felt his heart stop, looking at her with his eyes wide open, his trembling breath enveloping her face.

"− what, my love? −" He asked trying to control the tremor in his voice, feeling the cold sweat on his back, his whole body froze.

"− moon tea − they forced it down my throat −" She muttered, nuzzling her face into his neck, as if she was trying to escape this thought, sighing quietly in relief, apparently thinking that they were still in in the chamber they had escaped to together.

He embraced her tightly, burying his nose in her hair, fruitlessly trying to stifle the whimper of horror that broke suddenly from his throat, his heart and throat squeezed so tightly that he could not catch his breath.

His seed that could take root in her womb.

Their future.

Their child.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @rwdkarla @echos-muses

[stevethehairington]

Eddie doesn’t tell the Corroded Coffin guys about his relationship with Steve. Not at first.

He knows they wouldn’t bat an eye at the fact that he’s got a boyfriend; they’re cool like that. But telling them who his boyfriend is? They're cool enough to accept Eddie being gay, but dating a jock? Dating Steve Harrington? Eddie isn’t so sure how they’d react to that. 

So he keeps that little detail to himself.

Not too carefully, though, as it turns out.

Eddie shows up to Wednesday band practice with a new ring on. It’s big, just like most of his rings are, but it’s a whole different breed of gaudy, with a huge emerald gem right in the center and thick lettering circling it and embossed onto the sides.

Gareth is the first one to clock it for what it is.

They finished up their first run through of their latest track (something new about a totally badass warrior who's beaten and battered and bruised, but won't let that stop him from throwing himself intro the fray) that Eddie just finished penning the lyrics for, then broke for a quick break and some water. Eddie stands across from Gareth, right hand wrapped around a water bottle, new ring on display. Gareth is close enough that he can make out some of the smaller details now — a paw print, the word ‘Hawkins’ right above it — and then it clicks.

“Dude,” he says, smacking his hand into Eddie’s arm. “You got a class ring? Since fucking when?”

Eddie’s face seems to go through several emotions all at once — confusion, surprise, a brief flicker of panic. It smooths over pretty fast after that, settling into something much more controlled, something much more collected after.

He switches the bottle to his left hand and flattens his right in the air, admiring the ring for a moment. “Oh, this?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, flashing it towards Gareth and the boys (who have all perked up in interest and shuffled closer), too fast for any of them to really get a good look at it.

“Holy shit, that is a class ring, what the fuck, Eddie?” Archie asks, face twisting up.

Jeff looks surprised too, squinting at Eddie’s hand, curiosity painted across his features.

Eddie doesn’t deign any of them with an answer, just sort of shrugs and drops the water bottle, replacing it with his guitar. He twists at the tuning keys on the head of his baby, ignoring it as Gareth and Archie erupt into a flurried back and forth of reasons why in the hell Eddie would be wearing one of those monstrosities.

Jeff is the only one to jump to his defense. “It’s weird, sure, but, like, is it really that bad? I mean, he spent six years there, so what if he wants to, like, commemorate it or something?”

Gareth and Archie turn twin what the fuck looks on Jeff, who just shrugs.

He doesn’t look too convinced of his own argument either — which is pretty merited. Eddie getting a class ring goes against, like, everything he stands for. He’s pretty sure he’s ranted about how stupid class rings are. How pointless they are. Plus, those suckers are expensive as fuck and Eddie has plenty of other, more important things to put that money towards. All things considered, they have every reason to be suspicious of it.

They all turn back towards Eddie, looking for confirmation or contradiction, but Eddie doesn’t offer them either.

He just gives the ring another short look, shrugs, and says, “So are we gonna get back to playing or what?”

And that’s that.

Except it isn’t.

Because at some point Eddie must have been playing with the ring, and he must have slipped it off, must have spun it around, must have stuck it back on his finger with the other side exposed. The side with the “1985” on full display. Big and bold and hard to miss.

And, of course, they notice that.

“Does that say ‘1985’?” Gareth asks, eyebrows pulled together and mouth curved down into a confused frown.

“‘85? Eddie, dude, isn’t that the year that you were supposed to graduate the first time?” Archie asks, just as baffled.

Jeff elbows him. “No, that was ‘84,” he corrects. “But he didn’t graduate in ‘85 either.”

“So why the fuck do you have a class of 1985 ring then?” Gareth questions. It’s hard for him to look menacing with that floppy hair of his, but he crosses his arms over his chest and fixes demanding eyes on Eddie anyways.

Eddie, once again, does not answer any questions. In fact, the only acknowledgement he does give them is a very casual, very nonplussed “Oh? Does it?” when they keep pointing out that the ring boasts “1985” instead of “1986”.

It’s pretty amusing, actually, listening to them trying to figure it out. But none of them come close to the truth. And Eddie certainly isn’t going to be the one to hand that over to them.

It goes on like this for a few more practices. The mystery of who Eddie’s class ring actually belongs to (because the boys have decided that there is no way it actually is Eddie’s. Not with the 1985.) continues to plague Corroded Coffin — before practice starts, during their breaks, in the aftermath of their jam sessions.

Eddie doesn’t stop wearing the ring, despite it, though. And he always finds a way to change the subject when Gareth, Jeff, and Archie bring it up, or he gives them stupid nonanswers instead that make them huff and puff.

It all comes to a head one day when practice is getting close to ending and a familiar maroon Beemer pulls up outside of Gareth’s garage. The engine cuts, and then out pops none other than Steve goddamn Harrington himself. 

The boys are vaguely aware that Eddie is on friendly terms with Steve, but they don’t know the full extent of it. They don’t know how deep it actually runs. And they certainly don’t know that they’ve been dating for the better part of four months now.

It’s almost funny how they didn’t even think to make that connection.

Until now.

Until Steve Harrington saunters his way up Gareth’s driveway and stops in the mouth of the garage, arms crossed loosely over his chest, head bobbing along like he’s actually enjoying the noise they’re making. There’s a certain look on his face, in his eyes — something pleased, something contented, something unbearably soft, as he watches them jamming out. As he watches Eddie jamming out.

They’re in the middle of a song, and everyone’s sort of lost in their instruments, lost in the music — except for Gareth. He spots Steve first. He sees that look on his face, follows his eyes to find them glued to Eddie. Observes for a few seconds, and watches as Steve’s stare doesn’t waver once.

He only has eyes for Eddie.

And that’s when it clicks.

Gareth’s hands stop moving, the drumbeat cutting off as his sticks just hover and he stares, slack-jawed. 

It takes a couple of seconds for the others to notice that Gareth stopped playing, and when they do they stop too and turn on him.

“Gareth, the fuck, dude?” Archie says, throwing his arms out.

“Everything good, man?” Jeff asks.

“Class of ‘85,” Gareth says, dumbfounded, finally pulling his eyes away from Steve to fix them on Eddie, who freezes in the middle of making googly eyes at Steve and slowly turns to meet Gareth's gaze. "No fucking way."

Eddie offers Gareth a sheepish, lopsided smile and a one shouldered shrug. "Surprise?"

[crybaby-bkg]

Yakuza boss Deku that’s sooo sweet and gentle with you, that you had no clue what he did in terms of work. You just assumed that maybe he was an heir to a big corporation, or hustled a lot on the side whenever you weren’t around. You couldn’t be further from the truth, but it’s all still so baffling. At how gentle he is with you, how kind he is, sweet and caring. It’s only been a few weeks since you started seeing each other, and he was nothing if not a gentleman.

Your sexual explorations with each other never went very far. He never got fully undressed, despite you laying bare in front of him. But oh, would he worship you. Get down on his knees and eat you out for hours, it was a wonder his jaw wasn’t tired. And even then, would he just keep going and going until you passed out, unable to ask him if he wanted to switch places.

But, one day, you’re determined to do something for him. Izuku was just too kind, it was unfair how he never let you treat him as well as he treated you. So when he comes over to your place one day, tired, with his head resting on the back of your couch, do you finally worship him the way he deserves.

“What’re you doing?” He asks in a gasp, catching your hands in his own big ones as you start undoing his belt. You can only look up at him with big, rounded eyes, hope he caves as easily as he always does when it comes to you.

“It’s unfair,” you pout. “You never let me touch you too. I just wanna please you, ‘Zuku.” Your voice is so soft and your mouth is so warm where you kiss at his knuckles. You’ll ask him later where that one bruise came from, but for now, you rest your head in his lap. Try not to grin when you feel his cock jump under your cheek, batting your lashes when he swallows audibly.

“Just,” Izuku swallows again, slowly releasing your hands as he undoes his own belt, pushing his black slacks down until they rest just beneath his balls. “Just this once, okay?”

And it’s all you need to hear. You kiss and lick at the side of his cock, nuzzling your cheek against it, mouthing at the forking veins up the side. Izuku can’t help his noises, his little grunts and sighs, his deep groan when you finally put the head in your mouth. He’s so gentle, holding your cheek softly in his grip, feeling it hollow in a suctioning motion as you slide a little further past his tip.

He doesn’t buck his hips or push your head down, and in a sense, you wish he would. So you move his hand to the back of your head, encouraging him to guide you, moaning around his length when he twitches in your mouth.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” you hear him say in a gasp the moment you slide down on his cock. His tip hits the back of your throat and you gag, holding still despite Izuku trying to pull you back up for air. But you don’t budge, only let your jaw hang a little, panting, tongue dancing up the underside, relishing in the brief tug at your hair before it loosens.

You don’t answer him verbally, but instead sink down on his cock again and again, until you’re sure the back of your mouth is bruised in the shape of his tip. You never take him out of your mouth, only pull back until his head rests on your tongue, jerking the rest of it sloppily with your hand. You stare up at him all the while, feeling yourself throb at the sight of him.

Izuku has always been a composed man. Always stood tall and sure of himself, always handled himself with the confidence that made you start to fall for him. But now? Now, his hair is a disheveled mess, like he’s been running a hand through it the entire time. His emerald eyes are dull, blown out by lust, pupils dilated in pleasure. His mouth hangs open, and you can see the strain in his white button up as he tries not to shove your head down. Something terrible must glint in your eyes, because he does just that.

Shoves you down until you choke and splutter, nails digging into his thighs as he starts using your mouth for his own pleasure. He’s full of apologies the whole time as he abuses your throat, thighs tensing at the gagging sounds you emit, whining high in his throat when you gurgle around his balls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to—fuck!” Izuku hisses through his teeth, feeling his sack tighten as he’s about to cum. He rips your mouth off of him, watching the drool and precum messy your lips and chin, connecting to his twitching cock, and it’s enough to do him in. He finishes all over your face, still holding your hair in his hands as he jerks himself off, cum splattering over your eyes and nose and that big grin you never seem to lose.

When he finishes and catches his breath, you attempt to clean him up, pull his pants down even further so that maybe he could shower with you. But as you go to yank them off of him, you get a glimpse of some ink on his thigh. Izuku stops you quickly, post haze going up in flames as he looks at you with wild eyes. He blinks a few times, wonders if you’ve seen too much, and only speaks when you don’t get that terrified look so many have had in the past.

“Let’s go to your room, so I can reward you. Yeah?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as breathless from nervousness, that you equate it to still coming down from his high. And you seem none the wiser, nodding your head as you stand on shaky legs, grabbing his hand and pulling him to your bedroom. You only hope if you confront him about the tattoos, he doesn’t do what Yakuza members know best.

[star-rin]

⸻ TOXIC BY LIL DURK & SUMMER WALKER FT. ❝ EREN YEAGER ❞

★ - I LOVVVEEE TOXIC EREN. imma be using the lyrics from the song cause honestly it really helps me write. making deluded scenarios based on the lyrics.

★ - college! eren, eren is actually younger than reader by like 2 years or wtv (don't care if you a stallion bbygirl he's taller than you), bathroom sex, jealous eren, pussy eating, and I'm lazy to put anything else so porn plots basically.

❝ you know i'm lovin that dick; make me doze off right after. ❞

noticing your emerald eyes burning holes in your face from across the room, eren pissed from how you're dressed tonight. more pissed at the other guys around him looking at the way you're dressed. putting the red solo cup down on the counter walking towards where you dancing with your friends, basically bumping your shoulder with his to get your attention. all you needed from his eyes looking down at you for you to follow him.

eren was nowhere near insecure nor cared about how you dressed in previous settings. Still, something about the guys talking about how you'd be a good fuck just set something off. that's how you ended up in the bathroom with him, ass bent over, your face on the counter and eren holding your arms behind you hunching you.

" mmmfuck ren-- " you can feel your makeup sweating off and smudging on the counter as he fucks into you. his eyes clocked on you the way his cock is disappearing into you how and how the fabric of your outfit looks so good rippling off your ass.

he bent down enough just for his voice to reach your ear "fuck you feel so good mama, gon d'head and cum for me ya? "

the night ended off with you leaving the party with eren hoodie covering the big ass rip in your outfit and awesome sex that left completely exhausted.

❝ toxic, but you i ain't goin nowhere ❞

he hates when you ignore him, even if he's being dry he loves going to your IG story posting quotes that are directed towards him, puts a smile on his face. but when you ignore him like he doesn't exist makes him angry and maybe he would say sad.

its been three days and every time he comes close to you on campus you pack your stuff and walk away. to why you're ignoring him, it's because after a party last week, you saw his homeboys posting him and this girl clinging to him and him not doing anything. you refuse to be his side chick to a ugly hoe who couldn't stop touching him.

thats why he's knocking on your apartment door at 3:10 am with saddened eyes that low and red, mostly from smoking a spliff earlier. " you can't ignore me forever ma"

huh, that's weird, now you're on the couch with eren in between your legs lappin at your cunt and squeezing your delicious thighs in his tattooed hands. fuck, three days away from you made him go insane and miss how you taste, how you moan, and how you pull at his hair from how good his eating you right now.

❝ hesitant to post or flaunt this ❞

even though you two have been having sex and exploring what your relationship might be. eren has been trying to keep it under wraps when around his homeboys. not because he's embarrassed by you, but to keep up his act of being the nonchalant nigga he is.

but even that is not holding well espically when they see how he looks at you every time you and your friends have a smoke sess far from the campus. how every time you two leave to "get drinks" what should be a five-minute walk back and forth somehow turns into a 45-minute wait.

your face flushed and wig more poofy than it was before you left and was that a bruise or hickey on the side of your neck ???

" what the fuck took yall so long " jean looks over at eren eyebrow lifted and a smirk on his face. " it's a bunch of bushes and shit, had trouble coming back ya know " lying son of bitch, they all took a cleared pathway to the area.

❝ i put my hands in her pants, not for the smell, to see is it wet ❞

you're pinned on your apartment door outside, eren's body blocking the night sky view that could be in front of you. his hands down your pants and his breath on your neck.

he loves having you like this. feeling how wet you are and what cute sounds you're making. fuck and you smell so good right now. he loves how he can feel his finger slip past that first ring of your hole and how you squeeze his bicep.

he likes to see you so pathetic and submissive. the way you depend on him for your pleasure. he can't get enough of it. maybe that's why he won't leave. he loves being with you.

❝ after sex, she wearin' my boxers ❞

@y/nis_delulsional posted: lmao hey guys ;))

© STAR-RIN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.