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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year

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Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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hey, i loveee your writings! i was wondering if you could write a fic or one shot of peter parker and reader getting into an argument based off of peter parker saying something to his friends behind readers back about reader that hurts her feelings? ending is up to you! thanks!

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii dunno how i feel about this

You were many things.

Beautiful, talented, smart, caring, affectionate, loyal, honest, needy.

Needy.

Needy, needy, needy.

Needy, he called you needy.

Were you needy? You didn’t think so, but then again, would you be aware if you were?

Maybe he didn’t mean it, it was a private conversation. He could’ve been just venting, ranting about small things. You’ve done it before with your friends, it could be harmless.

But, god it hurt. It was so casual coming from his mouth, like it’s a common thought passing through his mind.

“Hi petey,” you said with a hum, he had just left yours to hang out with his friends when he called.

Silence drifted on the line.

“Petey?”

Shuffles, maybe a cough? Murmured voices, nothing too solid.

“Peter, you there?”

Laughs break through, you understand it was a buttdial.

You were about to hang up but Peter moved around, suddenly the voices were crystal clear.

“So, how is it with your girl, parker?”

You think it’s Mark.

It’s wrong to eavesdrop but if your partner accidentally called while they were about to talk about you, wouldn’t you listen, just for a second?

Notes from future self, don’t.

“Eh,” you imagine him rubbing at the back of his head, “good, good. It’s good.”

Good?

Good, that’s it?

Good?

You thought everything was great, wonderful in fact. When your friends ask about Peter you take your time on the soapbox preaching, he wants to end the conversation immediately.

Is that a good sign or a really bad sign?

“Just good? Don’t tell me she stopped putting out, I know how chicks are.”

“Don’t talk about her like that, Logan.”

Peter came to your defense, point one for parker.

On the other side of the line Logan holds his hands up in surrender, “didn’t mean to poke the bear there, parker. Get your girl to suck your dick, you’ll be fine.”

Next time you see Logan you’ll clobber him.

Peter grunts, he’s never liked Logan and neither did the friend group. But every group needed that one person that was mutually hated so there was always something to joke and talk about.

“She sucks my dick just fine, you sound jealous. I’m sure she’s got a friend that’ll pity fuck you.”

Your eyebrows furrow, Peter doesn’t talk like that. At least not around you, is this what the ‘saturday’s are for the boys’ boys mean when they say locker room talk?

Mark cuts back in, he lights up a joint.

“I’m sure parker is just fine, he can barely rip himself away from Y/N.” He coughs on the smoke between laughs, Peter stays quiet. He’s wondering if he should tell his friends this, it’s nothing serious and it didn’t really bother him, and he didn’t want to say anything to you because he knows you’d take offense and stop it; and he’d miss it way too much.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem.”

He mumbled it, but he said it and what the fuck did that mean?

You couldn’t stop now, you pray he doesn’t see you’re connected to the call.

“Trouble in paradise? Do tell.” Mark offers the joint to Peter, he accepts it and passes it to Logan.

“Sometimes I feel like she’s all over me and needs me for everything, I dunno.”

Peter tugs at his hair, he’s not saying it right.

“I think I feel like no matter how much I’m there it’s not enough, she’s so needy.”

Gut punch. You took such a sharp inhale you have to stop breathing to make sure Peter didn’t pick up on it. You’re reeling trying to look at it from his side, you didn’t seem needy, but everyone’s idea of needy must be different.

Sure, you do try to extend his visits for as long as possible but that’s because some weeks you feel like you don’t see him but for a few hours and you’re willing to scrape up as much time as possible. And because you love him. And sure, there have been times you ask him to do things or help you but you love watching him fix things around your apartment and have him take extra time to dote on you. And because you love him.

You want to hang up, you don’t want to know why he thinks you’re needy. If you do then you’ll spiral and question everything you do from here on out.

On Peter’s end he pulled his phone out to check to see the time, and if you’ve texted. His eyes widen at the screen, he feels like he stopped breathing before he whispered a “fuck” under his breath, he looked at the screen and tried to pretend it wasn’t real.

It was. Bold and in his face, your saved name and small lettering below it, ‘call connected’ you’ve been on the line for six minutes. You heard absolutely everything, in a panic he hung up the call which was the worst thing he could’ve done, because now you know he knows, and suddenly you realized that if he thought you were needy you’d show him you weren’t.

—----------------------------------

There is no surprise your boyfriend is pounding on the door.

Not loudly, but constant and quickly, demanding to not be ignored.

Like his four missed calls.

After two straight minutes of his rapping you finally swung the door open, waiting for him to bombard you with reason and apologies. He looked surprised. Peter opens and closes his mouth, he doesn’t know what to say exactly.

Your eyebrow raises at his silence, “you had forty minutes, four missed calls, seven ignored texts, banged on my door for two minutes, and in all that time you didn’t think of one thing to say?”

“I’m sorry?” He looks sheepish, he gave a tiny shrug. Hoping you’ll find him cute enough to be let off the hook, like a kid with cookie crumbs around his mouth claiming he didn’t know who ate them.

You run your tongue over your teeth and click them, “yeah, no.” You try to swing the door shut and he foot catches it.

“Baby,” he catches your eyes, his own look wet and sad. He looked remorseful for his words but didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

You know what you want to say, you want to tell him that it hurt your feelings, that you didn’t know you were being that way, why he didn’t tell you, why he felt that way, a million things ran through your mind.

But that would make him right. Needy about answers, about why he would think that. That would prove him right, and you weren’t needy, you didn’t think you were but anything he might deem as needy wouldn’t be done anymore.

“It’s okay.”

Peter pulls his head back, he’s unsure if you know what you said.

“It’s…okay?”

You nod, “yeah, sure, I understand, you were just venting, and I shouldn’t have been listening.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay, because if you did that to me I’d be hurt.”

But I wouldn’t do that, I only praise you around my friends.

“Yeah, well, fuck around and find out, you know.”

It feels off, this is why Peter didn’t want to tell you anything. He knew you’d pull away from him, you already are.

“Wanna watch a movie? I heard there’s -” he tries to move around your shoulder to come in but you move to block him entirely. He looks at you half confused, half offended.

You didn’t need him. He had plans with his friends and you weren’t about to prove them all right and have Peter come running back to you, like he always does, and try to fix things.

This time Peter wouldn’t fix things, you were. It was clear what he didn’t like, so you’ll stop doing it.

“Don’t you have plans tonight?”

Peter snorts, “since when do you care? You always beg me to stay with you anyways.”

Is that one? One of the things that made him think you were needy?

Not tonight.

“I won’t beg tonight then, go have fun.”

Peter regrets everything about the past two hours, he should’ve stayed when you asked the first time.

“I have more fun with you, lemme in.” Peter tried to push past but you were adamant he leaves.

“Go smoke some weed with Mark, come back when you have the munchies. I’ll make cookies.”

Peter shakes his head, “I don’t wanna hang out with them right now, I want to hang out with you.” He tries to move past you for the third time, you put a hand on his chest to push him back.

“No you don’t. You feel guilty and want to prove something to me or yourself or whatever, and I don’t need Logan thinking if you don’t grovel at my feet then I’ll stop sucking your dick.”

Peter jumps in immediately, “that was fucked up, and I know I said some shitty things too but I didn’t want him thinking I wasn’t getting laid.” His eyes blow up, he moves his hands around, “not that that matters! Cause I’d love you no matter how much we had sex, but we are having sex and he-”

You hold up a hand to stop him, “I don’t know where you think that’s going but it’s nowhere good. You’re just digging a deeper hole.”

Peter’s voice is panicked, “there’s a hole?”

You sigh and clasp your hands, you point them at his chest.

“I’m not mad and I don’t need you here, I also don’t need you trying to make a point about not meaning it. You said it and you meant it, don’t lie to my face. Either man up or go back to your friends.”

You were right, this is going nowhere good and Peter knows it.

“This shouldn’t be a fight, right?”

You shrug, “I dunno.”

Peter pleads with you, he wants anything, something he can work off of.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” He reaches for your hands and you let him hold them, he rubs his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“Are you sorry you said it or sorry you got caught?”

Peter doesn’t know how to respond yet, he doesn’t know how to be honest without offending you and he doesn’t want one thing to change.

“I just….” He groans and tilts his head back, “can I please come inside?”

You take him in and decide it’s okay for him to enter, your head looks at your roommates door to make sure it’s still closed.

Peter flops on the couch and slaps the coffee table, you take a seat where he called and waited.

“You’re not needy. Not at all, and don’t think I’m just saying that because I think that’s what you want to hear. Needy is the wrong word, it makes you seem annoying or unbearable and I promise you’re my most favorite person in the world, so it’s not that.”

You whisper your words, your thumbnail being nibbled on.

“So what did you mean?”

“I don’t even know!” Peter stresses his point, you can see how upset he is, that he not only said it, but couldn’t place it.

“I just think maybe,” he groans, he doesn’t like being vulnerable. He’s the strong one in the relationship, it wasn’t very manly to cry over loving your girlfriend too much.

Peter rubs at his cheek and shrugs, “I don’t know.”

Your eyes narrow, “liar.”

Peter folds his cards, the only thing he has to lose here is you, and he will if he doesn’t be honest. But it’s a whole new level to him, a layer he’s about to peel back, one that isn’t so light and happy. It’s a side very few people have seen, he’s scared to show it to you.

“Can we talk?”

You look at him oddly, “we are?”

“Private.”

You’re confused but lead him to your bedroom. Peter didn’t know how to tell you he was about to cry, but when he did he didn’t want your roommate seeing it.

You wait for Peter’s lead when you reach your room, he pushes you towards your bed for you to take a seat, he stands between your legs and cups your face. Peter tilts your head up until he’s looking down into your eyes, he looks troubled. A small tired grin hugged his lips, “hi baby.”

“Hi, peter.” you whispered soft, his thumb brushed your bottom lip.

He takes in a deep breath like he’s remembered the task at hand.

“I’m about to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else, and it’s a different Peter than you’re used to.” Peter presses a kiss to your forehead and steps back, this time he takes a seat at your desk chair.

“I don’t think you're needy. I don’t even know what to say, cause like, fuck… I don’t, look, spider-man has a lot of people that need him, right? And he works hard all day and has no one to share it with, but I do. I get to tell you about my shit days, and you’ll patch me up and I’ll pretend to leave just so you can ask me to stay over, and honestly? It feels nice to have someone who needs Peter and not spider-man for once.”

You try to speak but he stops you, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“I look forward to it too much. I fucking sit here and play pretend, like it’s a chore to spend time with you, and you always ask me how I do it so good and I’m just so used to hiding it. I’m so used to hiding this lonely feeling, like nothing is enough, and then I had you.”

Peter shakes his head slowly, he wipes at his nose. Tears drop casually with every few blinks as he speaks, you want to hold him to you forever.

“I didn’t have to do anything because you did, you made all the decisions I wanted to in the first place. I love when you ask me to fix things, and when you want me to spend every second with you, when you want me to skip a night out, when you get me to stay over for the third night in a row.”

Peter wipes his eyes, he sniffs and breathes out shakily, this is what it’s about, right?

“Baby, you aren’t needy. I am.”

“And you projected that on me.” It wasn’t a question.

He laughs, a tear drips down his nose, he wipes it away.

“I’ve never felt so needed and wanted in my life, and I am so terrified I’ll fuck it up and lose it all.”

You’d never do that, if the relationship ends it won’t be on your terms.

Finally you stand and sit on his lap, he welcomes you and for the first time you notice how tight he’s always wanted to hold you, forever stuck in his grasp. You straighten the collar on his shirt and fix his hair, his eyes shiny from his tears.

“You could, you could fuck it all up and lose it.”

You press your forehead against his, “but I need you too much.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x you #my writing

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spaghettioverdose · 8 months

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Sure maybe you wanna say that the "suck my dick and stop being a baeddel" copypasta anons were originally sent by a couple of trolls or whatever but the amount of people I see defending them is very clear fucking proof that the sentiment exists. There is a lot of preaching about trans unity right now, but as is often the case, if someone demands unity while refusing to do even the bare minimum for you (in this case disavowing the horrifyingly misogynistic posts and calling out some of the people who maintain such positions instead of defending them) and only call for unity when you speak out against their abuse, then they're not looking for unity. They want you to shut the fuck up. You never see these same people calling for unity when there's a harassment campaign against trans women. You don't see them defending trans women when our words are misinterpreted in as bad of a way as possible.

And before someone accuses me of being a baeddel terf or whatever: I am not saying we need some kind of transfem separatist movement or that trans unity is impossible or undesirable. I am not saying that transmascs are doomed to be violent misogynists. I do have some very nice transmasc mutuals (all of which uncoincidentally are communists lol) who I do appreciate and feel actual solidarity with because they aren't transmisogynists and because I can expect them to have the backs of the transfem community whe the newest transmisogynistic harassment campaign starts on this dogshit website.

A growing problem on here is the continuous dilution and rejection of feminism and even some of the most basic feminist positions in favour of positions that would be perfectly at home in a 2016 antifeminist mra youtuber's videos if it wasn't for the pseudo-progressive tone of the message. It is what has lead to "you should shut up about transmisogyny and suck my dick", a position championed by "genderpunks" and transandrophobia truthers. The drift from understanding the basic premise that we live in a patriarchal and misogynist society to "well, men have it bad too, so who's to say what the real gender dynamics are like" and even "men have it bad too, specifically because they are men" has erased a lot of progress on this website and allowed this kind of thing to happen.

The way to close the gap and achieve trans unity is not to ask for silence from trans women speaking against the abuse done to us or to pretend that gender dynamics do not exist politically, but to take steps towards solidarity with us and speak out against transmisogynists and to push back against antifeminist rhetoric.

This post, obviously is aimed at people who are genuinely interested in trans unity, not people who scold others about trans unity whenever trans women have a problem with the way we are treated.

#long post #trans unity #transmisogyny

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dulcewrites · 2 years

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Fool Me Once

Pairing: aemond targaryen x reader (wc: 2.4k)

Summary: Learning about Aemond’s indiscretions hurts more than you thought it would, and leads you to accepting help from an unlikely source.

Warnings: gaslighting and manipulation on Aemond’s part, reader being slightly naive :(

A/N: I love rewatching certain eps or scenes for inspo. I got inspo for this watching the iconic knife scene. Very interested lately in writing women that eventually (and rightfully) snap after being actively harmed by patriarchy/the men in their lives. Also alys and aemond meet after the dance starts but let’s pretend they meet right before viserys passes. This will have a slightly ambiguous ending… for funsies 🫶🏽

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You consider yourself a forbearing person. Your resigned nature was natural to you, but also the way you’ve been bred to be. Your mother especially preaching that good things come to those who not only wait but keep their heads while waiting. This idea only got compounded once your family arrived at court in King’s Landing. Now you had septas, on top of your mother, teaching you the ways of a ‘proper’ lady. Demure, well read and groomed, and obedient. You did was expected because what else could you do. Your parents were in your ear telling you do not waste the opportunity in front of you. An opportunity for a better life.

For a time, you thought your mother had a point. You did as you were told, and good things fell into place. Princess Helaena and you became fast friends through your lessons. Your interest in plants crossing over with her interest in insects and arachnids. Through your friendship with her, you caught the eye of Queen Alicent.

Despite your shy disposition, you managed to get in the good graces of the most powerful family in the Seven Kingdoms. You trusted the process.

But the cracks in the restrictive facade started once the discussion marriage entered the picture. You knew marrying for love was not something everyone was afforded, but you thought maybe you had a chance. There were tries for courtships here and there, but it was something you kept putting off. The clock was ticking, and no one let you forget it. Especially after your friends, including Helaena, started getting married and having families of their own.

You still remember the thrilled smile on your mother’s face when Queen Alicent not so subtly suggested a union between Prince Aemond and you.

The One-Eyed Prince. He had been nice enough towards you. But you were sure most of that was out of sheer obligation because his mother and sister liked you. Despite the love you have for Helaena and the respect you have for the queen, the idea of marrying into the family terrified you. You saw the burden and hurt each of them carried. Even with the possibility that Aemond wasn’t as bad as Prince Aegon or King Viserys, his brooding nature still made you nervous for what a marriage with him would mean.

“Your work has paid off my sweet girl”

It took a simple sentence from your mother to change your mind. The ever growing need to be validated spurred you into a decision you’d later question.

The courtship was quick and to the point, much like Aemond. He wasn’t thrilled with the decision. Then again, happiness was not an emotion you’d seen him exude very often. You did not know what it looked like.

Throughout the courting, wedding celebrations, wedding itself and after, you two had a mutual understanding or so you thought.

You saw the change in him. When you’re all but forced to spend your days with someone, you notice their behavior more. He’s lighter it seems. You don’t know how to explain it, but he moves different.

The only feeling you can compare it to is when you were pregnant with Daella, your daughter. For all his faults, you can acknowledge that Aemond is a good father. He was from the moment the maester told you two the news. He was attentive and uncharacteristically warm to you during your pregnancy. And then he acted as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders when she was born. Even now, he indulges her rambunctious antics and playful conduct in a way he wouldn’t for anyone else. His precious byka zaldrīzes

His devotion never wanes when it comes to her. It was a different story for you and him.

It was foolish, but so typical of you. You had done your duty so well that you’re now in the position of having genuine feelings for him. Wanting your husband shouldn’t be a problem. But craving the love and affection of an enigma like Aemond is not for the faint hearted.

“Is my brother with his whore tonight,” his words were cruel, but he genuinely seemed curious. Aegon and you always had a strange relationship. He wasn’t rude though certainly not kind. You remember overhearing the way he described you after you two first met: pretty but terribly dull. You didn’t know what hurt worse: him saying that or the lack of pushback from Aemond.

“Aegon!”

Alicent gives you a pained look before pulling Aegon to side during dinner. You can tell by her scowl and his now sheepish facial expression that she’s using some choice words.

You thank the seven that Daella was asleep after a long day of playing with her cousins and wasn’t at dinner. The empty spot next to you feels vast. This is the third dinner he has missed. It never occurred to you that Aemond would seek companionship elsewhere. Now that it’s on your mind, you can’t forget it.

His whore

Aemond and Aegon are not the same. You know Aemond is not the type for frivolous intimate moments with silk street brothel women. You also know the intimacy he seeks requires knowing someone. He requires way more stimulation. Whether that is a blessing or a curse… you don’t know.

Aegon’s comment had you on high alert. Paranoid even. When Aemond is away, you wonder what he’s doing and who with. It only gets worse the sicker King Viserys grows. It shows on everyone in the family. Queen Alicent gets more anxious for what’s to come, Aegon lashes out, Helaena becomes more cryptic and silent, you wonder how this will impact your already complex relationship with this family, but then there’s Aemond. He shrugs off any ill feelings towards the situation.

At first you wondered if it is because he’s the only one that’s made peace with that relationship never being mended. He didn’t seem to seek out the same approval or explanation for Viserys’ bad parenting that everyone else still craves. With the King dying, meant the chance of change dying as well. But really his mind is elsewhere.

You know you’ve reached a new low when you try to pry information from Ser Criston. If anyone knows where Aemond sneaks off to, you assume it would be Criston. But in the end, it was wrong to go to him. Criston is fiercely loyal to Alicent and in turn fiercely loyal to her children. Though he has treated you kindly, he would never give up more information than he had to.

The idea greatly backfires when then you find yourself the one being questioned.

“If you want to know where I go, you could simply ask,” Aemond’s tone is cool and composed. It makes you uneasy.

He leans leisurely against the wall. You freeze hearing that declaration. Criston must’ve told him about your worries. It feels a bit surreal now having the opportunity to confront him about your thoughts. The words run through your head but never seem to make it out of your mouth.

“You know I like going for long rides with Vhagar,” he starts walking towards you. “She’s older; she needs to stay sharp.”

You do know that. It’s something you found endearing about him, despite how you feel about dragons.

“I just feel like I haven’t seen you much,” you manage to get it out with a forced smile. “Like you’re always away.”

He tilts his head to the side in question. You feel like one of Helaena’s bugs. Inspected and poked.

“You don’t like being around Vhagar,” he points out. “I’d love to take you with me, but you don’t want that now do you.”

You look down at your hands. He doesn’t get it. He has the blood of the dragon flowing through him. For him, Vhagar is a symbol of pride and declaration of love for his ancestors and house. To you, she’s an unpredictable power that you still think humans should not mess with. It’s better to chalk it up to you fearing versus bringing up how you really feel about them. How you share the same skepticism many people across the Seven Kingdoms do. It scares you to think about Daella getting a dragon of her own. You see the awe in her eyes when she looks at her egg or when Aemond tells her stories of the past and present that include them.

Oh, the irony of you being weary of dragons while bounded to a man who rides the biggest of them all.

“No, I don’t,” you mumble. You finally work up the courage to bring up what you really want. “It’s just Aegon said something about you, and I guess it made me think about where you go so often.”

The words adultery or whore make your tongue feel heavy, and don’t come out He sighs once he reaches you, grabbing your face in his hands making you look at him.

“My wife do not let the thoughts of the small minded people cloud your judgment,” he leans his forehead down to yours. “You’re smarter than that.”

He’s not wrong, it is like Aegon stir things up. Aemond has a way of doing this. A way of making you feel silly with his self-assurance. He makes it easy to doubt your gut instincts. His affection has a similar debilitating quality. It’s why your head gets a bit fuzzy when he kisses you. A warm and gentle kiss that left you a bit weak in the knees. You sigh when his lips move to the sensitive spot under your ear.

“We should have another babe,” his whisper makes your eyes shoot open. “Give Daella a sibling.”

You pull away, eyes wide. As much as you loved how Aemond doted on you while you were with Daella, you also remember how difficult the experience was. How towards the end, you were basically confined to the castle as to not risk your health or the babe’s. Your every thought being on the life in your stomach.

“A little warrior would be nice, no?”

Aemond had told you he’s not picky about how many children you two have or even the sex of them. But you’re sure like any noble man, he wants his blood and name passed on as much as possible. Especially as a Targaryen. You’d be lying if you said the thought of a little boy didn’t make you happy. Your children hopefully having a strong bond.

You look at the seemingly earnest look in his eye. You nod with a nervous smile, and he kisses you again. That night being the first of many he tried to put an heir in you.

He wouldn’t want another child while his heart is not it… right?

You gingerly rub your stomach while leaning your head back against the seat. Ever grateful that you have Queen Alicent and Helaena to keep you company and help. Taking Daella off your hands during the day while you rest, your pregnancy making you more tired.

Before you can fall asleep, your lady in waiting peaks her head in the room.

“I’m sorry to disturb you princess, but Lord Strong has requested to see you.”

Your brows furrow. You have seen Larys Strong around, but outside of that he’s been a mystery to you. A figure looming in the background but never someone you interacted with regularly.

“Send him in.”

Lord Strong comes in, small smile on his face. You motion for him to sit in the chair next to you.

“Princess, you’re glowing,” he starts as he sits. “The halls are buzzing with excitement about a new babe.”

You raise a brow. Maybe you outwardly look better than you feel because you don’t feel positively glowing. Not in the slightest. You didn’t feel this exhausted till later when you had Daella.

“Thank you Lord Strong,” you try to keep a kind smile on your face. “What can I do for you today?”

“I just wanted to check in. Let you know that if you need anything, I am always of service.”

You nod slowly, confused about where this is all coming from. What service?

“I know how stressful being with child can be, especially when the father is… busy,” he continues, leaning back in the seat.

Your smile drops. For a time, you did think things were getting better. Aemond seemed excited when you two found out you were with child again. Things were good till they weren’t anymore. He’s not around again, and now you are going to bring another life into an unstable situation. The tone of Larys’ voice makes you uneasy. He smiles like he knows something you don’t.

“I appreciate the kindness, but I do not think your um services are needed.”

He nods at that before reaching into his pocket and handing you what you assume is a letter. He motions you to read it. You stare at the outside of letter. recognizing your husband’s handwriting.

My Alys

Your hands shake as you open the letter. Your vision gets blurred with tears as certain words and phrases stand out. Miss you, need to see you, miserable at King’s Landing, love you. Your squeeze your eyes shut when you see words mistake, baby, and your name in the same sentence.

“Those pesky ravens, sometimes they do the maddest things,” Larys whispers softly. “My princess, the woman the letter is for is an… old friend of mine. If you need me to keep an eye on this or even take care of anything, just let me know. I am always here.”

You look at him as he gets up to leave, lip trembling. Your eyes move stare at the fire in front of you. Fire, blood, and dragons have all consumed your life now.

Is this why you don’t under the understand the obsession with dragons. You hate the ludicrous insistence that you can control them. That if you give them enough love and patience that they will need you the way you need them. Good behavior has gotten you nothing. Doing right by the dragons in your life has gotten you nowhere. Aemond is not yours despite the vows you took, or sacrifices you’ve made for him. The same way your children will never be yours despite the pain you take to have them.

You’ve been burned by the very dragon that’s supposed to protect you.

“Lord Strong,” you blurt before he gets to the door. He turns to you expectedly. “There is something you can do for me actually.”

#aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd imagine #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #black!reader #my writing

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erikatsu · 11 months

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to those who are unfollowing people who are reblogging/speaking/doing what they can to spread word about gaza and the genocide, you are part of the problem. it enrages me– and not because you’re unfollowing. but because you are actively choosing to ignore it. i don’t have a big following, or even a decent one compared to some of my mutuals, and i dont care if i lose every single one of you if it means supporting those still fighting for their lives and those who have already lost them. i may not be able to donate, or to go to the protests, but i can AND I WILL use what little following i have here to do what i can.

do better than our world leaders. do better than what you currently are. because everyone speaking about gaza, or boosting posts about the situation would be doing the same for you if it were the people of your country being wiped off the map. even if you don’t have a lot of followers, one more person speaking out on social media is another voice for someone who has lost theirs.

so go ahead and unfollow me. stay silent, if you want. i don’t want small minded people here. i don’t want anyone who supports genocide here. this entire thing is so much bigger than you, and yet you as one person can still help. the posts you scroll past, the posts you unfollow for, can reach someone who can do even more than you or i could. for a website that preaches kindness and acceptance im seeing a lot of avoidance and an unwillingness to help.

#every time i reblog something ab gaza i lose a follower #and i am angry about it #like i said i dont care if they go. i dont want them here #but you have every took at your disposal to help #tool*#and you chose not to #your silence is a privilege. but staying silent ab gaza could be their death sentence #block me. unfollow. just. get lost. there is no excuse

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norman-fucking-reedus · 7 months

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So it’s international women’s day and I was talking to one of my mutuals abt how Daryl would like worship you 🎀

I noticed that as the show went on Daryl’s respect and appreciation for women seemed to grow. I also feel like his mother could’ve been a victim of abuse, and so when he yells at any woman he starts thinking of his dad

I just think Daryl having his own person to unconditionally love and cherish would re-wire his brain in the best way possible

Idk what happened but I do not have a foot kink guys like feet actually scare me when I write I just make it all up as I go

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl has never considered himself a religious man, but oh for you, he’d make a whole new religion.

Growing up Daryl was never allowed to have much of his own stuff, whatever little he did have he held onto and cherished with all his damaged heart. He loved these things dearly, and would fight like hell to get them back, but he’s never down right worshipped something, nor someone.

His parents claimed to be christians, yet they just made themselves look like hypocrites as they preached sins from the bible that they commit every hour of the day. Daryl believed that if there really was a God, he wouldn’t toss kids to people who didn’t deserve to have them, let alone help the people that needed help, like when his mom was burning to death in the house.

He didn’t believe in a God, no, not until he got to taste you for the first time.

You, Daryl loved you. From the tips of your very toes up to your hair, there wasn’t a single inch of your body that Dixon didn’t appreciate.

He takes his sweet, sweet time undressing you, carefully peeling your shirt off and running his blistering hands across the smooth skin of your stomach. Daryl dips his head down to kiss you, slow with lots of tongue.

Daryl’s hands move down your sides, hooking onto the waistband of your pants and pulling them down. He stared at you in muted awe as you stepped out them and stood in just your bra and panties, twirling hair around your finger.

You watched as he lowered himself down, not just onto his knees but down to the floor, his lips brushing over the skin of your feet. A shiver ran down your spine at the sight of Daryl bowing before you, peppering kisses along the skin of your ankles while slowly climbing his way up the skin of your calf, relishing in the ticklish sensation of your leg hair.

You were pure, sheer natural beauty, Daryl dared to say that Aphrodite herself could not compare.

He traced every scar with his lips, and touched every birthmark with the tip of his tongue, his hands stroking the skin of your legs as he worked his way up past your knee, to your thigh, squeezing and sucking on the plumpness. His fingers trailed over the bump dips of your stretch marks, traveling across your hips and stopping mere inches from your stomach.

Daryl knew that you were a little insecure about the markings, however, he had a deep admiration for the discolored lines etched into your skin, dragging his lips across them and feeling them underneath.

He made it his life goal to make you feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world because in his eyes you were the only woman in the world.

Daryl placed eager kisses over your clothed hip bones, running his tongue over your V-line before burying his nose in the growing wet spot of your panties, inhaling the addictive smell of your cunt. He stared at you with a needy, half-lidded gaze, licking his lips as you fisted the hair behind his ear, teasing the hem of your panties right in front of him.

His eyes never left your movements for a second as you slowly slid the thin fabric down, Daryl watching the way they slipped down your thighs and pooled down around your feet, eyes flickering back up to your pretty pussy. He watched as you spread your lips with your fingers, running your fingers down your folds and bringing your glistening digits to Daryl's lips, so casually offering him a slice of heaven.

You felt Daryl's groan vibrate through your fingers as he quickly wrapped his lips around them, swirling his tongue and sucking your slick. His cock pulsated in his pants, arousal burning hot in his belly as he taste you, wanting to taste you directly from the source.

As you pulled your soaked fingers from his lips, coating them in his own spit as you did, you adjusted your stance to stand with your legs further apart, lifting your leg slightly to step on Daryl's cock, a guttural moan coming from him as he thanked the stars above him for whatever he did in order to belong to you.

When you tugged Daryl's head forward by his hair, dragging your messy cunt across his chin and over his tongue, he jerked his hips up and down right whimpered when he ground into the pad of your foot. Every light sound he made, he made right into your slick folds, desperately lapping up your juices on his tongue. One hand held onto your thigh, and the other stayed wrapped around your ankle.

Daryl ran his tongue from your tight entrance, up to your sensitive clit, rubbing it with a few hard licks before darting back down your slit, this time slipping the wet muscle inside your soft walls. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, applying more pressure with your foot that had the man seeing stars underneath you. Daryl held your foot down, curling his tongue as he thrusted it in and out.

You had a tight grip on Daryl’s hair, tugging at his brown locks as he worked you open, pushing your closer and closer to the edge. He was such a monster when it came down to his mouth, knowing exactly just how and where he needed to use it.

He dragged his tongue back over to your clit, making quick work of filling you with his fingers. You groaned at the feeling of his thick digits, scissoring and stretching you further open. He stimulated a sensitive nerve near you clit as his fingers curled in your sweet spot, a high gasp coming from you as your hands tightened in Daryl’s hair.

You pulled his head back, clenching around his fingers when the cool air hit your puffy clit. Daryl panted softly underneath you, staring up at you witth hearts in his eyes as his swollen, red bottom lip got caught between his teeth. His hips rolled up into your foot, whimpering quietly.

“I love you” He choked out, hand gripping your thigh as the other continued to curl his fingers.

You brushed his cheek again, staring down with a pleased looked and smile. “I love you too, Dixon. Now come up here and stuff me”

Daryl grunted, sliding his fingers out of you and immediately bringing them up to his mouth, sucking you clean off.

He rose to his feet, wiping his fingers dry before circling around your back to unclasp your bra, throwing himself into one of your deep kisses as the garment fell down your arms to join your discarded underwear on the floor. Daryl ran his hands over the soft and squishy skin of your tits, groping them under calloused palms.

You directed him to walk backwards, taking careful steps towards the bed as his lips refused to leave yours, the lingering taste of yourself in his mouth as you explored it with your tongue.

Daryl’s knees hit the mattress and he sat down, leaning back a little to give you more space as you straddled him in all your nude glory. Your dripping cunt pressed against his bulge, and he could feel your warmth wetness behind the fabric. The groan that escaped his lips was quickly captured in another one of your dangerous kisses, Daryl’s head already starting to become full of haze.

“Your body belongs to me, right?” You slid a hand between the two of you, fingers dancing over his jeans as they unbuttoned them.

Daryl hummed, eyes fixated on you as you freed his cock. “Yes ma’am”

You smiled softly, dropping down for yet another mind fogging kiss, lining Daryl’s tip up with your entrance and sliding down slowly. He groaned into your mouth and the sensation of being wrapped up in your tight heat, cock twitching were it rested snuggly inside you.

When you started to bounce your hips, milking the length of his cock with each wet slide of your cunt around him. He wanted to snap his hips into you, fuck you hard and make you feel so, so good. But instead, he stayed right was he was, eyes rapidly flickering from watching where he was slipping in and out of you, to your pleasured face, lip caught between your teeth as your gaze met Daryl’s.

“I love you” He said once again, whispering it into the steamy space between the two of you. You curled your fingers into his scalp, tugging the brown hair as you locked onto his lips for another one of those fucking kisses. “I love you too”

And oh, how that’s all he ever needs to hear.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl not being able to process the fact that someone as breathtaking as you would want to date someone like him and he’s just so sickeningly in love that obviously his only option is to just straight worship the ground you walks on, like you’re a blessing sent directly from heaven itself and Daryl Dixon will be damned to let something as enchanting as you go to waste

He is stone cold LOVER BOY 😾

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #womens day

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sadesluvr · 10 months

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Guilty - William Afton x Reader

To be a lawyer is to adhere to a strict code of ethics.

A/N: Slight AU, but not really. This is kind of tame compared to other William fics I have planned, but I thought it’d be fun to make Reader more dominant and less innocent than usual! This has a bit of build up, but it pays off ofc ;) You can imagine William to be in his 40s/50s like he is in the movie, or 30s as he would’ve been during his killing spree.

Word count: 2.6K

Tags: SMUT / Age gaps (Reader is in her 20s) / Sexual tension / Hybristophilia / Power play (Kinda) / Fearplay (If you squint) / Clothed sex / Unprotected sex / Mutual consent / Dirty talk / Discussion of murder / Mentions of cheating

Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza was in a mess. A bunch of children had just gone missing - presumed dead - and there were even rumblings of a lawsuit from the victims’ families. It certainly wasn’t the case an up-and-coming lawyer usually received, but had the potential to be the one that cemented your career.

“I must say, I’m rather surprised you chose me to help you out,” you said to the man who was sitting at the table as you closed the door behind you. Your office was by no means large, but it was sizable enough to make you feel important.

“Why’s that?” He asked, cocking his head, his brows raising above the rims of his glasses. You’d done your pre reading; the man’s name was William Afton, a humble businessman who’d started the pizzeria and had come to you for help. He seemed well meaning enough.

“Well,” you began, adjusting your skirt as you sat down, “I’m not the typical face you’d imagine when picturing a bloodthirsty lawyer. Especially someone like you…”You said carefully. It was no secret that men either overlooked you, or went out of their way to hire you for your ‘assets’. “I find they’re usually set in their ways about having a woman deal with their issues,”

The man shrugged, a small smirk creeping to the side of his face.

“Doesn’t bother me. I have a daughter of my own,”

“Oh,” you smiled, pushing your chair in as you fixed the paperwork around you. “Is she…?”

“She’s a little younger than you,” he said simply. “I make it a mission to practise what I preach at home,”

You smiled, and he smiled back, his skin wrinkling ever so slightly around his eyes and sides of his mouth. He was put together and certainly likeable; only driving you to want to help him out even more. you were quite comfortable, which was good as it was likely that the rest of the office, bar the receptionist and the interns, would file out over time, leaving you alone with him in your assigned wing.

“I suppose we should get started. First — Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“…In conclusion, I suggest you speak to this PR rep, he’s excellent,” you said, sliding a card across the table. “For now, our plan is to go ahead with the statement, and hold off on any retaliation,” you continued, making a few notes as you did. “Cooperate with the police, and let me handle things — But, if there’s anything I should know, it’s best you tell me…” you finished, looking up at him from across the table, your eyes meeting his own blue ones.

William smirked. His focus on the task had dwindled in and out over the past hour and a half, having watched the way you explained things with striking confidence, yet bit your pen childishly before writing things down. He couldn’t help but admire a woman with confidence, and it certainly helped that it wasn’t misplaced. You were good at your job. Perhaps too good.

He wondered how you’d ended up here. Young, attractive, yet closed off in a building with stuffy businessmen on a Friday night. You should’ve been at the club; dressed in your sluttiest attire, making out with random guys whilst you split Margaritas on yourself, eventually taking them back home and fucking their brains off. He wondered if you were the dominant or submissive type; if you liked to take charge and ride in cowgirl position, or into the classic missionary, arms above your head as you moan and whimper for more. You might’ve been good at your job, but it was impossible that you hadn’t fucked any of the seniors in the office during your time.

More importantly, he wondered if you’d ever slept with your clients. After all, it wasn’t as if they were in his calibre; likely some shady businessmen who’d moved a few pots of money around, or middle-aged men moaning about real estate - none notable enough to ruin your reputation.

This was much different. Far different.

You didn’t know it, but you were face to face with a killer.

“Such as?” he hummed. Of course he knew what you meant, but he just wanted to hear you say it.

“…Anything that could damage your validity should there be a trial,” you said, sitting back in your seat. “Forged bank documents, hoarding evidence, an admission of guilt…”

“You think I had something to do with it?”

You paused, somewhat taken aback by how abrupt he was. Usually people reacted dramatically to accusations (especially ones as callous as this), and yet he was eerily calm, barely even flinching at the mention. It intrigued you, but more disturbingly it made you horny.

“I never said that,” you shrugged, trying to compose yourself. “But, if you did, it could change this situation entirely. Your wife, your daughter - the public - will look at you very differently,”

William chuckled, his leg beginning to bounce in excitement. The mention of his family was quite the mood killer, and yet you acknowledging them turned him on. They weren’t really any more than tools to look like a convincing family-friendly businessman, and yet you seemingly bought into it. In terms of the public, well, he had a big ego for sure, but his libido was bigger. Throbbing, even.

“And what about you?” He said, leaning in and placing his hands under his chin, grinning at the way you shifted under his gaze. It was time to turn the tables.

“Excuse me?” you choked, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to churn in your stomach. There was something in the way that he smiled at you, like he was getting some kind of satisfaction from making you squirm. Perhaps you’d been wrong about him. Perhaps there was something deeper.

“Will you look at me any differently?” he insisted. You paused for a moment before shaking your head.

“Absolutely not, Mr Afton. It’s my duty to be impartial,”

So prim and proper. It was time to blur the boundaries.

“Tch,” he scoffed before bursting into laughter. “Come on! That’s what they all say. It’s human nature to judge,”

You rolled your eyes, tossing your leg over the other as you began to drum your fingertips on your desk impatiently. This was usually the part where whoever you were talking to stopped to talk down to you. William could tell you were agitated, and he loved the way your brows were beginning to furrow and lips scrunch into a pout. He wondered how they tasted. Much more how they felt.

“It’s also human nature to feel discomfort when running over time,” you snapped, closing your files with haste. “This session is over, Mr Afton,”

So feisty. Repression had clearly done a number on you.

It was a blatant sign for him to move on, and yet he remained firmly in his seat, watching as you got up to put your files away, skirt slightly crumpled around your legs from how long you’d been sitting. You noticed this and pulled it down, turning to face the man yet again and leaning over the table, palms flat as you rested your hands on either side.

You were rather close to him, and if anyone walked in it would seem sketchy. It didn’t help that he was quite handsome; with rugged yet refined features, a slowly greying goatee and bright eyes that were somewhat hidden by his large glasses. The longer that you stared at him, the more you felt weakened under his gaze.

“Can I help you, Mr Afton?”

“You can,” he said, and you raised a brow for him to continue. He felt his cock begin to harden and heart beat as he worked his way up to the moment. Yes, you were a lawyer, but the circumstances meant that you were game to react rather abruptly.

A killer and a lawyer in an empty wing, just after hours - doors shut with no one to hear a scream? It was the perfect scenario for a crime.

“I have something to declare…” he began, and he could barely contain his smile as you raised your brows, mouth slowly falling agape and body subtly recoiling. As if in a trance, you lowered your head further, the eye contact so intense that you could feel a tingle throughout each others’ bodies. You were 90% certain he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

“…Go on,”

“I think you know what it is,”

With a slow blink, as you tried to ground yourself. You could’ve vomited. In your eyes, murder was a grey area in the realm of self defence, but children were always off limits.

He didn’t even seem to care. He seemed amused, actually.

“O-Okay,” you whispered, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll have to revisit this with fresh eyes in the morning —“

You were so painfully uncomfortable, and yet part of you was aroused. Perhaps it was because you’d never encountered an actual killer, or it was because you were incredibly aware of the blatant fantasy being played out from both sides. He was a wolf; a hunter, bigger and stronger than you and waiting to ravish you like prey.

You were dedicated to holding up the law, fighting for what was fair like a good girl, but sometimes good girls needed to be ravished.

“— What do you think, Miss L/N?” he teased, standing up to match you. “Am I a dead man?”

“No…” you whispered. “I’m going to do what I can…”

“Good,” he smiled, backing away from the desk, the outline of his bulge illuminated from the dimming lights. “That’s why I chose you,”

You gave an awkward nod, haphazardly rushing to hold the door open for him to leave. You held your head down as he passed, and squeezed your eyes shut as you realised he’d stopped in front of you.

Your bodies were painfully close in the tiny doorway. William grinned, and he knew he had you from the moment you looked up at him through your lashes.

“…Are you going to kill me?”

“Not unless you want me to,”

Your lips were on each other in a heartbeat, your hands immediately finding the door and slamming it shut before focusing your attention on the killer at your feet. He wasted no time in effortlessly hoisting you up around his waist, his large hands firm on your hips and thighs as he held you steady, stumbling to find your desk. You returned the favour by holding onto his neck and beginning to grind yourself against his cock, your skirt riding up in the process.

“I bet you’re real happy I walked through those doors, aren’t you?” He teased. “How long have you been waiting for a fucked up guy like me, hmm?” he said, crudely sticking his fingers inside your panties as he placed you on the desk. He grunted at the sensation of your wet heat, hungry as he stuck a third finger inside without warning or hesitation. They were lithe and calloused, and seemed to hit your core immediately upon penetration, causing you to let out a moan.

“I never –” you began, barely unable to form a sentence. “This is nothing —” you insisted, lips leaving his own as you began to fumble with his belt, cupping him through his pants. He was painfully hard. And big. Bigger than most guys your age. “— Just a formality,”

William scoffed, unable to hide his lascivious smile as he began pumping in and out of you, your lips swallowing him to just below his knuckles. Against the creaking of the desk and desperate pants you could hear the wet sound of your juices coating his fingers, sticky and copious as his motions continued; rough yet controlled.

To think, they were the same hands that had murdered all those kids…

You’d taken out his cock now and was massaging the organ in your hands, causing him to hollow out his cheeks, sighing at the contact. It was over five inches, and considerably thick, with a long blue vein running along its underside. As you stroked him, a healthy secretion of precum coated your fingers, indirectly lubing him up further. His thrusts were lazy but needy as he fucked your hand, and with every movement you worked together to guide his cock to your entrance, his bulging tip teasing your folds.

“Fuck,” he whispered, throwing his head back. “You’re ready for me, aren’t you? Naughty girl, you know this goes against your ‘ethics’...” he teased again, and you could barely formulate an answer as his body was now almost completely on top of yours, your back arching as you stabilised yourself with your free hand on the desk.

He chuckled, reaching down to grip the base of his cock as he lined himself at your entrance. For a moment your hands touched, and the excessive hairs and slight wrinkles reminded you of just how much older he was.

“Fuck ethics,” you moaned, and his grin deepened, to the point he was baring teeth. You couldn’t take it anymore, and you were beginning to lose your grip on your panties as you held them to the side.

Next time he should just rip them off.

“William…” you moaned. “Please…”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he laughed, and thrust himself into you, rutting into you like a rabbit. To him the sensation was euphoric, it had been a long time since he’d fucked a fresh pussy, and admittedly his wife was getting rather stale. You were so tight and melded perfectly around him, but most of all you were eager, even if your morals were blatantly backwards.

William’s cock filled you completely, repeatedly hitting the untouched crevices of your cunt that you hadn’t even known existed. He was big, skilled and oh-so painfully perfect - Perfectly bad for you. You could get disbarred, your public reputation ruined, much like the narrative of the man inside you - but with every thrust that drew deeper into your pussy and lustful kiss to your neck and lips none of it seemed to matter. His large hands cupped your sides, moving between your breasts and thighs as he groped and massaged; most importantly making sure that you remained spread wide and available for him as his clothed thighs hit against yours repeatedly. You were high; so high that you barely acknowledged the wedding ring on his left finger, even if you could feel it through the thin material of your blouse.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunted. “I haven’t fucked a pussy like this in ages. You and I are gonna make such a good team — Ugh — I knew there was a reason I chose you…”

“Fuck…” you groaned. “W-William…”

“Does it bother you that I hurt those kids?” he snarled, beginning to feel his stomach knot up.

You were too lost in your ecstasy to answer.

Did it?

“…Tut, tut. You said you wouldn’t judge me, sweetheart,” he chided. “We were getting along so well…”

“We are. I’m gonna help you,” you said determinedly, eyes unable to shift from his own. You were close.

“I know you are,” he hummed, letting out an intermittent groan as he shut his eyes. “You have no choice. You’re just as guilty as me,”

There was something about those words that immediately sent you over the edge, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a pornographic moan as you came, your body twinging as the man held your thighs apart, making sure you felt every inch of your shared ecstasy. William had barely found it in him to pull out on time, his heavy load painting a mess on your panties and thighs, but leaving a small trail of cum along the outer lips of your pussy, a subtle but telling reminder of what had happened.

Fixing your crumpled shirt and skirt, you adjusted yourself before hopping off of the desk, hands clasped in front of you.

“So,” you said, clearing your throat. You were surprised it wasn’t sore from your incessant moans. “I’d like to see you at the same time tomorrow. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

@yellowbunnydreams @lonelyaxolotl13

#florence writes!!#william afton x reader #william afton x reader smut #william afton smut #steve raglan x reader #florence_nomachine #steve raglan smut

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